Days passed since we began our charade of fake dating—it had been almost two weeks. The entire student body of Ardens was now aware of our supposed relationship, and every girl who had once harbored a crush on the "bad boy" now despised me.

Many claimed Eugene was merely eye candy, but such superficial admiration wouldn't last long, and they should have known better. Somewhere along the line, I began to decipher the messages they were sending.

My bag would mysteriously lose its contents, pages of my books would be torn or defaced, my track clothes would find their way into the trash bins, and my food tray would often be "accidentally" overturned.

I was being bullied, subjected to childish tactics in a futile attempt to provoke a reaction from me. It seemed to irk them even more that I remained silent, refusing to retaliate or fight back.

Their incessant harassment tested my patience, which was wearing thin. Then, one seemingly ordinary morning, I found my locker intact and made my way to class, only to be greeted by a bucket full of paint and some viscous substance hurled at me from above.

I snapped. Glaring at everyone as they laughed at my predicament, I swiftly seized the bucket and flung its contents at the students I knew were responsible. Some dodged it, but not all—Lance, the most arrogant of the bunch, received a direct hit.

Silence replaced laughter as all eyes turned to me. Without a word, I stormed out of the classroom, heading straight for the boys' locker room. It was the only place with a shower, and I couldn't afford to go home or remain in those soiled clothes.

Thankfully, the seniors weren't there, likely occupied with a practice match for the upcoming sports season. I undressed and stepped into one of the stalls, allowing the warm water to wash away the remnants of the humiliating assault.

Emerging from the shower, I scrubbed the gooey substance from my hair and hastily dressed in my track pants and jersey. As I made my way back to the school building, someone tugged at my elbow.

I turned to see Eugene, a puzzled expression on his face. "What were you doing in the boys' locker room?" he inquired.

"I needed a shower," I replied, pulling my hand away from his grasp.

"What if someone had come in?" he pressed.

"Relax. I knew no one would, so I went," I retorted.

He shook his head resignedly. "There's no point in arguing with you."

"Good. Then don't," I asserted.

Resuming our journey to class, Eugene couldn't help but inquire further. "So, why did you need to shower at school?"

I hesitated, searching for an excuse. "Um, because a crow decided to relieve itself on me—everywhere. So, I had to wash it off."

He regarded me with narrowed eyes. "Hmm, quite the interesting crow."

I offered an awkward smile and entered the classroom ahead of him, the curious stares of my peers following me. Lance's glare met mine, and I returned it with equal intensity.

I confided in Vivian about the incident, and she expressed her outrage. "That asshole! I would've thrown a table at him," she exclaimed, brimming with anger.

"Yeah, that jerk. He's been glaring at me ever since," I added.

"Did you tell Eugene?" she inquired.

"No, why would I?" I responded.

"Duh, because he's your boyfriend," she reminded me, emphasizing the word 'boyfriend.'

"Fake," I mouthed back, reminding her of our agreement.

"Whatever," she grumbled. "No, I haven't told him, and I don't plan to. I don't want to owe him any more favors, V, and you can't tell him either."

"But—" she began to protest, only to be cut off.

"No, V. You. Can't," I insisted. She reluctantly agreed.

After school, I waited for the bus to pick up Matty. When it failed to arrive, I decided to walk to his middle school—a lengthy trek, but it would help clear my mind after the day's ordeal.

Lost in my thoughts, I plugged in my earphones and turned up the volume, only to be startled by a loud roar behind me. Whirling around, I saw Lance astride his motorcycle, eyeing me intently.

Ignoring him, I continued on my way, taking solace in the fact that I had wounded his pride. Being hit with a bucket of filth was sure to tarnish his reputation, perhaps even earn him a fitting nickname—one that would haunt him for a lifetime. For people like him, it was the best possible outcome.

My reverie was interrupted by a phone call, and I answered it to find Eugene on the line.

"Why are you walking alone?" his deep voice inquired.

I checked the caller ID and scanned my surroundings, spotting Eugene a short distance away, his car parked nearby.

"Get in," he offered, and I obliged, shooting Lance one final glare before doing so.

We picked up Matty from middle school, and Eugene dropped us off at home. "You want to come in?" I asked him.

He glanced at his watch before shrugging. "Sure."

As he surveyed the interior of my home, I couldn't help but feel self-conscious. "Nice place," he remarked.

"Thanks," I replied, inwardly grateful for the distraction.

I glance at my younger brother, who appears to be studying the unfamiliar man in our home.

"Matty, go wash up," I instruct, and he dashes up the stairs.

We stand in an awkward silence, each waiting for the other to break it, but it persists for a while.

"How old is Matty?" he suddenly inquires, breaking the silence as he takes a seat on my sofa.

I joined him, maintaining a slight distance. "He's 13," I replied.

He nods, still casting glances around the house, betraying a hint of nervousness.

Studying his features for a moment—his well-built physique, clean-shaven jaw, hazel brown eyes, and the ring that seems to be a constant accessory—I catch his gaze before he shifts it back to the house.

"Is there something you want to ask me?" I query, noting his nervous demeanor.

He hesitates for a moment before speaking. "When did your parents pass away?"

It had been a long time since I discussed them with anyone. Vivian was the last person I spoke to, if we discount the occasions when people came seeking money my parents supposedly stole or offering insincere condolences, hoping to acquire valuable artifacts my father collected.

"If you'd rather not talk about it, that's okay," he interjects, pulling me from my reverie.

"No, it's not that. It's just been a while since I discussed them with someone in this manner," I explain, rising to fetch a bottle of beer for each of us from the fridge.

"They passed away when Matty was 5," I continued after settling back in my seat across from him.

"I knew they had passed, but I wasn't sure of the details. You've been reserved since then, and I guess Vivian was the only one allowed near you," he observes.

"Yeah," I murmured in agreement.

The sudden conversation about my parents weighs heavily on my heart. It's the first time in a long while that someone has spoken to me about them without any ulterior motives.

I feel a tear welling up, quickly blinking it away.

"You alright?" he asks.

I nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah."

Though I can tell he wants to ask more, my emotional state dissuades him.

Matty's footsteps draw near, I dispose of the beer bottles in the kitchen before rejoining them in the living room.

Eugene and Matty get engrossed in conversations about games, cars, and bikes—typical boy topics. I watch them with a smile, and Eugene returns it with one of his own.

Matty heads upstairs to fetch his gaming console.

I retrieve my laptop and settle onto the single sofa to work on the essay Miss West assigned.

"You don't mind if I stay longer, right?" Eugene inquires, I nod with my eyes fixed on the laptop screen as my fingers fly across the keyboard. I pretend to be focused, but I can't help but notice the small smile on his face out of the corner of my eye.

They spend the evening playing games, and Eugene even lends a hand in the kitchen as we prepare dinner. Matty tries to convince him to stay the night, but we both decline.

After Eugene leaves, Matty settles onto the sofa as we watch a rerun episode of SpongeBob.

"Is he your boyfriend?," Matty asks

I remain silent, looking at him, not knowing how to respond.

"You have my approval" he says grinning and I can't help but smile at his innocent approval.

Observing Matty's fascination with Eugene, I couldn't shake the feeling that this newfound closeness was fleeting—a temporary arrangement that wouldn't last.