The cascading sound of Fruity Pebbles hitting the porcelain walls of my cereal bowl is truly music to my ears. Honestly, is there anything better than a fruity bowl of deliciousness first thing in the morning?

"Still indulging in kid's cereal, Kenze?"

And just like that my golden morning hour is pummeled to the ground. I turn, grabbing the milk from the fridge and twisting off the cap to pour over my breakfast of perfection.

"Don't hate my morning, Cam. It's not a good look," I throw over my shoulder.

I can hear that famous smirk stretching across his face before he even manages a word. I'm suddenly thankful for that annoyingly charming smirk. He's always joked about my choice in breakfast and the fact he's anchored himself back into the realm of normal, effectively removing yesterday's events from his memory, is a relief.

"I think I look just fine," he muses.

I know I shouldn't look. I know damn well I shouldn't indulge his ego. What do I do, though?

Holy hell.

My eyes fall to his well defined chest, the tailored curve of his pecks leading to a rippled line of perfection. He may be cocky to a fault, but Camden Beck is built like a god and my early morning brain can't seem to catch up to the fact we're not supposed to be staring. All it can seem to do is travel down its recent memory lane where it's suddenly sending a reminiscent tingle to my lips.

"Did you forget to pack a shirt?" I ask, tearing my eyes away before that rosy, heated tint finds my cheeks. Not the time for blushing.

"It was wrinkled. I threw it in the dryer." He shrugs, reaching over my shoulder and plucking from the counter the very box of cereal he was just hating on. After pouring himself a bowl, he slides up onto the counter to enjoy a delicious kid's cereal. "So," he begins behind a mouthful of food. "I've been thinking."

"I don't want to know," I cut him off, shoving my own spoonful into my mouth.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say."

I don't pause to offer him a look. Instead, I keep my eyes trained safely on my colored bowl of heaven as I say, "If it has anything to do with your mouth invading my mouth again, then I don't need to know."

"You're acting like you didn't enjoy that kiss."

"You're acting like you did."

"Never said I didn't."

My heart pulses, the rhythmic movement of my jaw crunching away is suddenly frozen mid chomp. Did he seriously just say what I think he said?

"Don't go all quiet on me now, Kenze," he prods, wiggling his brows for added flare, or possibly annoyance, I don't know.

"I'm not going quiet," I brush it off, finishing off my last bite and bringing my bowl to the sink to rinse off. "I'm actively avoiding your bait."

"My bait?" he questions, lowering his bowl to his lap.

"I don't play games, Cam. If you're fishing for compliments, looking for someone to stroke that massive ego of yours and tell you how amazing it was getting to kiss you, you might want to give Porcia a call."

"Amazing, huh?"

"Is selective hearing a superpower of yours?"

"I like to think so."

A child. I swear he's a child. Rolling my eyes, I round the counter to grab my bag.

"Wait," he adds in, jumping off the counter and dropping his bowl in the sink. "I never told you what I was thinking."

"Didn't you, though?"

He smiles. "Nope. I was thinking that we should ride to school together today."

Sometimes I think his brain skips town for entire conversations. Really, was he not just here for our last exchange?

"We never ride to school together. Well, not since I got my own car." Cam staying here is definitely not new. In fact, as much as I actually hate to admit it, his presence is surprisingly comforting. Despite the awkward conundrum that was yesterday, having him here this morning feels a lot like everything is right in the world. But he and Jare were always the ones to ride to school together.

As the first of my friends to get a car, I always drove myself, stopping to get Brittney on the way. That pit that's been dragging weights across my gut returns, reminding me of how much has already changed in the last month.

"I know," Cam says, acknowledging my statement. "But it seems weird to be going to the same place in two cars."

It seems weird standing in this kitchen continuing on like he didn't sucker fish my face just twenty-four hours ago. But he's not wrong.

It's exactly why I nod, following him to the driveway and opening the door to his Jeep. I take an added moment before climbing in, scanning my seat for any scraps of undergarments that might greet me this morning.

"You getting in?" he asks, turning the ignition.

"Just checking my seat for unwanted materials. I don't feel like starting my day with—"

"Please don't say secretions," he winces.

"I make no promises."

"Of course you don't. And don't worry, there are no leftovers in my car today. I promise."

"I don't know if you can make that promise," I say, climbing into the car and fastening my seatbelt across my chest. "You've got a fan base, Cam. One who will go to boundless lengths to keep your attention. Including leaving their dirty undergarments behind."

"You make it sound like it's a bad thing."

"It's an I-don't-understand-thing. A pair of worn underwear does not scream sexy to me."

That mischievous arch to his brow has me holding my breath and tracing back each of my words, inspecting them for the door I left wide open.

"And what exactly do you find sexy, Kenze?"

And there it is. His chance to pounce in his playfully annoying way. "Does it ever get old?" I ask, ignoring his question and the flutter of heat it sends across my chest.

"Does what get old?"

"Never taking anything seriously?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I take everything seriously," I counter in offense.

"Exactly. Doesn't it get tiring? Always carrying that burden?"

His words rest against my chest, carving a path into everything delicate. "I'm not carrying a burden."

His eyes slide over to mine, briefly holding on before he's returning them to the road. His silence scratches at that locked box inside me, the one hidden behind years of diligent traps built to ward others away.

"Okay," he says, offering one nod before dropping the topic.

I'm thankful he doesn't push or ask more questions. Instead, he reaches for the radio, turning up the volume and letting the music surround us.

As soon as he parks the car at school, I reach for the door, letting the cool morning air rush over me. I breathe it in, ignoring that heavy pull across my chest.

Cam is beside me then, closing my door behind me. We take all of two steps before I realize exactly what's happening. Every pair of eyes are on us, staring and whispering. I feel a whole lot like Bella Swan right now, pulling up to school with my vampire boyfriend as everyone gawks in utter shock.

"Cam, they're staring."

"Yep." He nods, glancing around. "You sure you don't want to reconsider my offer?"

I think about what he said yesterday. Fake dating. Is that really even a thing in the real world?

"What are they whispering?" I ask, ignoring his question.

"I'm not sure you actually want to know."

"I told you this was a disaster."

"I don't know," he says, glancing around at all the staring eyes. "I think we kinda got a whole Traylor vibe going on." He swings an arm over my shoulder, his much too arrogant smile now beaming in full pride.

"Traylor? Really, Cam?" I'm rolling my eyes, ready to bury myself in shame while he's puffing out his chest and breathing it all in.

"What? Do you prefer Tayvis? Swelce? Although," he pauses, the seriousness of his thought process causing me to cover my eyes with my hand. "I know I'm the male athlete in this whole scenario, but I think I might be more Swift in this case."

"Camden!" I shove an elbow into his side. "Will you please take this seriously?"

"I am taking it seriously."

"Then maybe don't refer to yourself as Taylor Swift."

"You wanna be Taylor?"

He really is a child. A full grown child.

"You're ridiculous," I huff, attempting to stomp away from him when he reaches out a hand to pull me back.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I was trying to lighten the mood. But my offer still stands, Kenze. We can make this official. We can write our own narrative. Get out ahead of this and make people read the story we want them to read."

Why do his words make so much sense and yet no sense at all? He makes it sound so simple when, in fact, it's the exact opposite of simple.

"I have to get to class," I reply, slipping out of his grip and ignoring his offer, again. I turn away, not giving him the added chance to convince me to do something stupid.

I make my way through the crowd, trying my best to keep my head down. I can feel their eyes, though. I can hear the lingering whispers as I walk past. I'm pretty sure this is worse than the first day Adam and Brittney were making out in the quad. All eyes fell on me as everyone pieced together exactly what happened.

Why is it like this?

I know exactly why.

Camden Beck kissed me in the hall. He pressed me up against the lockers and made a statement for all to see. He's never kissed a girl in the hall. He's never staked a claim on anyone in public like that. A hook up at a party? Sure. Getting together outside of school to leave undergarments wedged in his seat, clearly. But to kiss a girl in the middle of a passing period for no apparent reason? No. Camden Beck does not do that.

Until yesterday.

And if I know the girls of this school, they're all asking themselves why the captain of the soccer team, the girl who wasn't good enough to keep her boyfriend interested, just got kissed by this town's athletic royalty.

Someone please bury me.

"Hey, Mack! Wait up!" an all too familiar voice yells behind me.

I keep my steady pace, attempting to ignore the voice and escape. I turn down the next hall, reaching for the nearest door and slipping inside. It's an empty classroom, the quiet of the room falls around me.

"Hey," he says from behind me, my escape route torn to shreds as I turn to see Adam standing in the doorway.

"Hi."

"So," he pauses, shoving a hand in his pocket. "What was that yesterday?"

"I'm sorry." I clear my throat, blinking a few times while I try to take in exactly what he's saying right now. "What was what?"

He laughs. It's not the haha you're so funny kind of laugh. Nope. It's the don't bullshit me kind. "You're going to act like nothing happened yesterday? Or the fact you just showed up with Camden Beck the day after you let him put his tongue down your throat?"

"Excuse me?" I think my brows have hit my hairline. He can't seriously be asking me this right now.

"Is there something going on between the two of you?"

And this day just keeps on giving. I'm still attempting to process the fact that the entire school has taken a sudden interest in my every move, the ridiculous offer Cam keeps throwing at me, and now I'm standing here, digesting the words my ex just slammed against my chest. He can't actually be serious, can he?

"That's none of your business, Adam," I fire back at him, shocking myself at the amount of force that lingers behind my words. "In fact, you lost the right to ask me that when you stuck your tongue down my best friend's throat."

"Mack," he says my name with so much sympathy, the tone causing my stomach to flip. He used to say my name with admiration. I used to feel the flutters of butterflies at the sound of my name falling from his lips. I never felt pity. Not like this. "Come on. He's playing you. Using you to get what you and I both know you won't actually give up."

"Screw you, Adam," my voice fires from my lungs, escaping me on a heated impulse. I don't even realize they've been set free until his eyes go wide.

"I wasn't trying to hurt you," he quietly responds. "I'm looking out for you. I care about you."

I'm the one to laugh now, blowing out a puff of humorless air. "You care about me? Really? Because the last time I checked, you don't screw the best friend of the girl you supposedly care about."

"It wasn't like that. And I know we hurt you. But Camden? What are you doing, Mack?"

"He isn't using me." I cross my arms across my chest, providing a shield of armor against every hit he takes.

"You don't know him like you think you do. Not when it comes to this. He doesn't want to be with you. He just wants—"

"He's my boyfriend." Oh shit. Stop talking, Mackenzie.

"What?"

"Cam. He's my boyfriend. We're a couple." I guess instead of stopping the words from projectiling out of my mouth, I'm choosing just to repeat them for more impact.

"So, you two are an actual thing?"

"Yep."

"Since when?"

"Since you made a colossal mistake in letting her go," Cam says from beside us, pushing open the door and gliding effortlessly across the room to wrap an arm around me. It's the first time in this twisted mess that I'm thankful for that arm of his.

Adam's eyes are stuck on mine, searching for answers I don't actually have. But there's something else behind them too, something I didn't expect to see. Anger.

"I'm gonna go," he says, hesitating briefly before turning slowly on his heel.

As soon as he's gone, I release the gulp of air I didn't realize I was harboring, letting all the shaking pieces fall away from me. I spin out of Cam's grasp, turning to face him. "Thank you."

"So, does this mean we're doing it? You're going to be my fake girlfriend?"

"I don't think we have another choice now."

"Oh, this is going to be fun," he says, clapping his hands together and rubbing them back and forth in true immature fashion.

I'm fighting that innate urge to roll my eyes. "Listen, if we're doing this, I think we need to set some rules."

"And leave it to you to take something fun and make it—"

"Safe from imploding? Look, this can go terribly wrong if we're not smart about it."

"Fine," he relents. "Hit me with some rules."

"Rule number one," I say as he rests against a desk. "We cannot under any circumstances tell any of my brothers about this. Especially Jare."

"Agreed," he says, nodding without hesitation. "Shit, if he knew I kissed you—" He doesn't finish that sentence. And he doesn't have to. I know my brother. Which is exactly why he can't know about this, faking it or not.

"That reminds me," I continue, holding up two fingers. "Rule number two, no more kissing."

He pushes himself from the desk, taking a step toward me. "You're kidding right?" I just stare back at him, showing him that I am most certainly not kidding. "Kenze, come on. No one is going to believe you're my girl if we never kiss."

I know he has a point. The problem is, I don't know how many times I can continue to kiss him. He's Camden Beck. My brother's best friend. Kissing him...it crosses so many freaking lines. "Don't you think it's going to make things...weird between us?"

He looks down at me then, his brows scrunched together. "Why would it?"

Okay, so apparently I'm the only one still thinking about that kiss yesterday. "We're friends, Cam. And you're Jare's best friend. That complicates things. It makes it messy."

"You're making it messy, Kenze. It's just kissing."

"That's the thing, it's not just kissing to me, Cam. I've never done casual. Kissing has always meant something to me. So, kissing you...making it something casual...it's different for me."

He falls quiet, his cocky demeanor shifting to something softer. "Okay. No kissing. Is there anything else?"

My eyes stay with his, hesitating for a moment before I say the next piece. "I know this is fake," I begin. "But it has to be exclusive. You can't be dating other girls on the side. I've already endured the sad, pity looks for being the girl who got cheated on. I don't want it to be a pattern."

"Kenze," he says, taking a step toward me, effectively closing the space between us. "You're about to be my girl. That means you're the only one I see."

I swallow the giant lump in my throat, pushing down the fluttering frenzie happening inside my chest. Camden has never had a girlfriend. I have no reference sheet to go on to know what the hell this is going to look like. But judging by the way he's standing over me and the way I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, I think somehow, we might actually pull this off.

"Right," I croak, taking a minute to clear my throat before continuing. "I just mean, you know, you won't be able to...hook up with anyone while we're in this."

That smile creeps across his face, pulling his mouth up at the corners and bringing my eyes to his lips for a brief moment. "You really believe—" He stops himself, running a hand across his jaw before shifting on his feet. "You do know I have other ways to keep myself satisfied, right?"

"Gross."

He laughs, shaking his head. "I'll be fine, Kenze."

"Okay. So, that was kind of a lot. Is there anything you need from me in all of this?"

There's a spark that hits his eyes, and I'm pretty sure I'm already regretting asking him for terms of his own. "Homecoming."

"What about it?"

"You have to go with me," he declares.

I shake my head. Homecoming was supposed to be with Adam. A moment I've thought about, dreamt about, ever since I heard the stories about my mom. The picture of her in her crown, that smile, the pressure to live up to that moment... "No. Not gonna happen," I refuse.

"What? Come on. You can't seriously expect me to show up to Homecoming without my girlfriend. No one would believe it."

I cross my arms over my chest, already feeling the annoying pull that he's right. "Homecoming is two months away," I remind him.

"And?"

"You really want to keep this thing going that long?"

"Mackenzie," he begins, reaching out for one of my hands and pulling it into his. "Let me take you to Homecoming."

His eyes connect with mine, and the deep shade of green catches my attention. Have they always been that beautiful? "Okay," I whisper, holding onto the unique hazel orbs in front of me.

"Okay." He nods, running his thumb along the back of my hand. "So," he says, leaning in just enough to bring my gaze down to his lips. When I look back up, I find his eyes trailing from my mouth back up. "You ready for this?"

I take a breath, feeling the pulse of his hand in mine. "Are you? Stating you're actually in a relationship is going to get a lot of girls' hopes up, make them think they have a chance now."

He sighs, the cutest smile pulling across his mouth. "I'm aware." He takes a step back, his hand still in mine, our interlocked palms hanging between the two of us as his eyes drop to where we're connected. "Together?" he asks, bringing his gaze back up to mine.

"Together."