Easy, my foot.

My head still throbbed from yesterday's drama.

Morning sunlight filtered through the windows, way too bright for how tired I felt. This meeting was supposed to end by 6:45 AM, but focus refused to stay with me.

The clicks of my pen against the glass table did nothing to drown out the memory of his stupid, frustratingly handsome face.

Wallace had already made the first move with his fake girlfriend stunt. Cliché, sure, but bold. All that was left was one final shove to make him break it off.

Only problem? I couldn't even get within five feet of him without my body betraying me. Burning cheeks, unsteady breath, and fidgety hands.

What even was that? Crush? Infatuation? Ew. No. Gross. I was not that girl. Pathetic.

A quiet sigh slipped out as I shifted in my seat.

Get it together, Desiree. Lock in. This plan had to work. Soon.

A cough snapped me back.

Crap. Everyone was staring. Right, student council meeting.

I blinked, lowering the hand that had somehow wandered up to my earlobe, and flashed them a dimpled smile.

"Let's wrap up with the final item on the agenda. Let's see..." I said, placing both hands flat on the table. "Ah, High School Day's singing contest."

That earned a few raised brows. Sophie even let out a breath like she'd been holding it the entire time.

Cute. They really thought I'd skip it because of him. How delicate they think I am.

A few minutes later, we wrapped up.

"That's it for today," I said, standing as my chair slid back with a low scrape.

"Cool, thanks, y'all," Ethan added. "Friday's the soft deadline, by the way. No pressure, but also... pressure."

A low chorus of sighs followed. Sunlight caught the gold details on our blazers as we filed out, relieved to finally breathe after forty-five minutes of updates and scheduling.

The main hallway stretched ahead, bathed in soft kaleidoscope hues from the stained glass skylight above. Fictus Academy always felt a little too much like a cathedral in the mornings, flooded with holy light and holier drama.

Lockers slammed around me as students clustered together, laughing, scrolling, talking over one another

I slipped past the crowd with my usual calm stride, maintaining straight shoulders and a steady pace.

A tap on my shoulder made me pause mid-step. I turned to find Harold from upper year.

"Hey, Desiree," he started, pushing his glasses up. "I, um, wanted to ask about the charity auction. I was thinking of volunteering, but... wasn't sure how to start."

I tilted my head slightly, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

You've been here longer than me and still don't get how this works?

I swallowed the irritation and slipped on the approachable smile I was known for.

"That's great, Harold. We're always looking for more hands. Didn't Blake share the details and sign-up sheet in the Senior Class GC?"

"Oh... I think I missed it?" He scratched his neck awkwardly.

Right. Missed Blake. The guy who lives to spam seventeen group chats and sends a hundred messages before breakfast.

"No worries," I said lightly. "I'll have Blake DM you the link later."

"Actually... can we talk now?" he asked, stepping a bit too close. "I was hoping you could help me sign up? I'm kinda confused with the sheet."

Confused? It's literally just a Google Form.

"Maybe figure things out together for the charity auction?" he added.

And there it was. The persistence. The same hopeful, boyish look I'd seen a thousand times. The fake excuses just to be near me.

My reputation as the School's Angel might've opened doors, but it also came with a headache count in the triple digits.

I stepped back and kept my mask in place.

"I've got class, and I still need to finalize the auction lineup," I said, offering a faintly apologetic smile. "But Blake or Sophie can get you sorted."

Also, I just spent my morning talking about that same damn thing. Ain't no way I'm doing it again, bruh.

Still, I lowered my voice like I was letting him in on a secret.

"You've got the kind of energy we need for this event, Harold. So don't hesitate to reach out to anyone on the council. They'll jump at the chance to pass something off their list."

Just... anyone but me.

His face lit up. "Thanks. That actually means a lot. Most people kinda... ignore me. But you always take the time to help everyone."

The unexpected sincerity stopped me for half a second. And for a brief moment, I almost felt bad. Almost.

I smiled once more and turned, just in time to catch a blur of blond and a tall, familiar frame slipping through the crowd.

Wallace?

My breath hitched, and my traitorous feet shifted instinctively away before my brain slammed on the brakes.

Wait. I'm avoiding him... Seriously? Again?

No. No. We are not doing this today.

When I looked again, he was gone. Or maybe... he was never there to begin with.

He's starting to feel like a phantom boy, haunting the edges of my good sense.

I exhaled sharply through my nose, irritation crawling beneath my skin.

Why am I thinking about him again?

That question followed me all the way to class, where Mrs. Wilkins walked in just as the bell rang.

"Before we begin," she said, setting her laptop down, "we have a new student joining us today. I believe some of you already know her."

The door swung open again, and Audrey stepped in with a bright smile.

A hush fell over the room as she stood beside the teacher.

"She's earned a scholarship and been moved to the Honors section," Mrs. Wilkins added. "Let's give her a warm welcome."

Scattered claps echoed weakly as Audrey made her way to an open seat in the back row.

Mrs. Wilkins turned her attention to setting up the projector, back to us now, and that was all the permission the room needed.

"She's cute, but like, really? In Honors?"
"I know, right? No way she actually earned it."
"She probably just got a pity slot or something."
"Guess Desiree's got competition now, yikes."

Competition? Her?

The corners of my lips twitched upward, but the smile didn't hold.

I tapped my pen once. Then twice. Harder each time, until a blot of ink bled across the margin of my notes.

It wasn't Audrey's presence that bothered me. It was the absurdity of thinking someone like her, with no influence, no reputation, no real standing could ever rival me.

Class had started, but all I could focus on was the steady pulse building in my temple.

A rival meant more eyes. More comparisons.

Double the work. Triple the pressure.

And if my mother caught even the faintest whisper of it—

No. Focus.

I drew in a slow breath, pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth to anchor myself.

It wouldn't happen. I wouldn't let it.

By the time class ended, tension clung to my shoulders like a second skin.

I stood when the bell rang, adjusted my blazer, and reached for my bag.

Then Wallace strolled in, unbothered and confident. His eyes swept across the room and landed on me.

Everything in me froze.

What's he doing here now?

Oh. Right. His "girlfriend."

I followed his gaze just as Audrey stood.

Around us, heads turned. Eyes darted between the three of us. Some girls looked at Audrey, envy plain on their faces. Others looked at me with pitying eyes.

Perfect. Everyone was now convinced I liked him.

"Ready for lunch?" he asked her, loud enough to bounce off the walls.

Audrey beamed, raising a hand for a high five. "Yo! Whatcha doing here, bro?"

I couldn't stop the cringe that flickered across my face.

Bro? Was that supposed to be flirty?

Even she seemed to realize how wrong it sounded. Her smile twitched just as Wallace gave her a sharp glare.

She quickly lowered her hand and scrambled, "B-babe. I mean... babe. You came to get me?"

"Oh, I couldn't resist," Wallace replied, stepping closer, his grin widening as he leaned slightly toward her. "Besides, I wouldn't miss a chance to have lunch with my favorite girl."

He whispered something that made her giggle and swat his chest.

Seriously? This is the game we're playing?

They were putting on a show, no doubt about it.

Wallace kept glancing over, like a boy at his first audition trying to remember his lines. It was obvious he was trying to get a reaction out of me.

So I gave him one.

My hand tightened around my bag as I let my shoulders sag. Eyes widened just enough. Lips trembled into a soft frown.

A picture-perfect heartbreak.

But the tight line of Wallace's jaw and the way his gaze lingered told me it wasn't the response he wanted.

Too bad. If he wanted a show, I'd give him a performance better than anything they could manage.

It was almost sweet, really.

How hard he was trying. But their little act? Painful. I've seen kindergarten plays with more nuance.

Maddison appeared beside me, her scowl aimed directly at them.

"Desiree, let's go," she muttered. "Ignore them."

Gladly.

We walked behind them through the corridor as they played out their little rom-com, complete with fake giggles and the oh-so-predictable hand-touch moment. Wallace even pulled out Audrey's chair in the cafeteria like some budget Prince Charming.

They chose the window seat, obviously, because nothing screams true love better than being dramatically backlit.

I slid into my seat beside Sophie, still wearing my Sad Girl mask.

At our table, the girls did their best to distract me. Chattering about everything from nail colors to faculty gossip. Bless them.

But when Jacklyn hissed another insult about Audrey under her breath, I realized I might've overcommitted.

And then, because of course, Harold popped up again.

"Hey, Desiree," he said, breathless and eager. "I was hoping you could clarify a few more things about the charity auction?"

I blinked up at him, arranging my features into something polite.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Wallace looking—no, glaring in our direction.

That's it. I've officially hit my acting limit for the day.

Enough sad girl. Time to switch masks for another persistently irritating boy.

I motioned to the seat beside Maddison and gestured for Harold to sit. "We can talk now, then."

Harold lit up. "Awesome! I was thinking maybe we could try a theme this year?"

I nodded and hummed like I cared, while he launched into a stream of ideas about decorations and livestream logistics.

Meanwhile, across the cafeteria, Wallace didn't stop watching.

What's his deal?

Why is he staring at me like that?

That look was different from his earlier, scrutinizing glances. Less smug. More... penetrating. It unsettled me now in a way I couldn't quite name.

"I'll bring it up during the next meeting. If we confirm it, we'll announce it through the school server," I said brightly, but with a tone that should've translated to kindly get lost.

Harold, unfortunately, didn't speak fluent subtext. This was the same guy who once had the guts to invite me to a frat party, only to be turned down with a collective death stare from the girls.

Everyone knew I didn't go to those kinds of parties.

I guess the good-girl-with-straight-A's image wasn't a bad shield. No one ever really pressured me into anything. Maybe one or two tried before, but with this circle around me 24/7, no one dared again.

Not that I needed protecting. But their unnecessary overprotection worked in my favor, so I let it be.

"Appreciate it. You're the best," Harold said, finally getting the hint and walking off. Took him long enough.

I let out a quiet breath and glanced across the cafeteria. Right at Wallace.

Yup. Still glaring. Jaw tense, stabbing his food like it had personally wronged him.

Is he mental?

He was just playing boyfriend-of-the-year a minute ago. So why the serial killer vibes now?

And worse... why do I even care?

"Hey." Sophie nudged me gently, eyes flicking toward Wallace and Audrey. "You okay?"

It took a second to register the question.

Staying in character, I blinked twice slowly, just enough to mimic the shimmer of tears I wasn't actually shedding. Then I dipped my head in a small, quiet nod.

Grabbing my book, I flipped it open. Pretending to read, pretending to ignore him, and very much succeeding at the latter.

As the lunch hour dragged on, their laughter faded into white noise.

Eventually, the bell rang.

In the locker room, I changed into my white short-sleeved PE tee, which clung slightly to my figure, and forest green shorts that skimmed my thighs.

I pushed open the door and came to an abrupt stop.

Wallace stood just outside the locker room, leaning casually against the opposite wall. Hands in his pockets, eyes downcast, and posture far too relaxed.

And yet...

There was no mistaking it.

He had been waiting.

𓇢𓆸

[Edited: 2,065 words]

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