"HAVE YOU LOST whatever modicum of common sense you had left in that pretty head of yours?!" Eliza exclaims once I'm done telling her my plan.

One perk of Miss Dawson's sudden leave was that Eliza had been one of the twenty or so students who'd had their timetables screwed up. So now, my last period economics class was her last period economics class.

Which is why she's currently sitting next to me, and completely freaking out while we're supposed to be answering the questions on the board.

"It's not that crazy," I shrug as I twirl my pen between my fingers.

Eliza narrows her kohl lined eyes in confusion. "Are you hearing yourself right now? 'Cause to me it sounds like you're planning a coup against her royal highness Queen Clarissa."

Slowly, I nod my head. "Yeah. That's about it. I don't see what's so crazy about it."

"Oh, that's not the crazy part," she hisses, leaning forward and crossing her arms around her waist. "The crazy part is that you actually want to trust Hunter Manwhore Maddox to help you with this devious scheme. I repeat: have you lost your freaking mind?!"

With a sigh, I lean back in the plastic school chair and cross my legs. "He seems to insist on being a fixture in my life for no apparent reason. Why not use it to my advantage?"

Eliza's face screws up. "Have you met the guy, Peyton? There's a very good chance the guy's a Petrie dish of at least three different STDs. Not to mention he lacks this thing called a personality. You really want to use that to your advantage?"

"Ew! Not like that!" I practically scream, my lip pulling back in disgust. When the teacher's head whips up to glare at us, I zip my lips and make a show of going back to my school work.

But as soon as her eyes go back to the romance novel hidden from view behind her desk, I drop my pen and return my attention to the crazy blonde beside me.

"I have no intentions of actually screwing the guy. I just have to convince everyone that I am. Which shouldn't be hard, considering Clarissa's already convinced I am."

"Think about it for a second here, Peyton," she insists. "Are you really so desperate to do this that you actually want everyone to think you're hooking up with a guy whose widely known for being a womanizing player?"

"I don't want to convince them we're booking up, Liza. I want them to think we're dating," I clarify.

To say Eliza looks like she thinks I'm high would be an understatement. "Dating? As in commitment? Exclusivity? Monogamy? I don't think this class is long enough to list everything wrong with this situation."

"Well, I think I've got a read on your thoughts about this," I mutter, my eyes fluttering up into my head.

With a deep breath, Eliza's judgmental expression smoothes out into something more calm and friendly than I've ever seen on her face. "Okay, Peyton. Just answer me one thing," she said, taking a moment for dramatic pause. "Why?"

I think about her question for a moment, and before I even realize it, my mouth is forming words. "Because I'm tired of it, all of this bullshit and these so-called rules we're supposed to follow. Who are we to let handful of cruel, heartless people control what we think, how we look, how we act. My second day here and I was told I shouldn't be friends with you and Addison, or I'd face consequences by some girl I didn't even know. And I hate that I was one of those control freaks once. I think it's time someone shows them that they don't need to listen to someone like that. They need to see that Clarissa is no better than any of them."

"And you're going to show them that?"

"Yeah," I nod my head insistently. "I'm gonna try."

Eliza doesn't say anything right off, instead tapping the end of her pen on her desk as she looks forward, deep in thought. Finally, she sighs. "I'm in."

Convincing Addison to go along with my diabolical coup takes a little less effort. After all, this is the girl who'd all but alienated her for no particular reason. Clarissa was responsible for Addy's horrible high school experience. As long as Addison didn't have any actually involvement outside of being a supportive friend, she was game.

"So you're going to the diner?" Addison asks as I watch her stuff her backpack full of notebooks.

With a huff, I blow a stray lock of hair out of my eyes. "Yup. I figured it would be safer to talk to him in a public setting."

Addy stops in her tracks, raising an eyebrow in my direction. "You're afraid of being alone with him?"

"No, but if he decides to run his mouth, like he apparently love to do, in my place of work, I'm slightly less likely to kill him."

With a little laugh, Addison shakes her head and closes her locker door. "Well, my shift starts at five tonight and I very much hope the place isn't surrounded by cop cars. My mom might not be to impressed."

"I'll do my best," I grin. "With any luck, I should be out of there long before then. My grandmother is making dinner tonight, so I'm plenty motivated."

"You're so lucky Nana Phil's actually your grandma. People around here would actually kill for a plate of her cooking. Or at least seriously injure," Addison sighs thoughtfully, swinging her backpack up over her shoulder. "I'm incredibly jealous."

With a laugh, we head off in the direction of my locker. "If I don't get arrested or fired tonight, I promise I'll bring you some leftovers tomorrow."

"Deal!"

The hallways are bustling with students packing up and making a beeline for the front doors. It's nice to be able to walk down a school hallway without a hundred pairs of eyes following my every move. In truth, I'm sure I'll miss the feeling of being invisible in a few weeks.

I'm given a few more moments of peace when we arrive at my locker. Addison and I take the opportunity to discuss our history project, agreeing we'll sit down after school tomorrow to work on our slideshow a bit more. Tossing my math text and a tattered copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream in my bag, I slam the door shut.

"Where are you supposed to meet up with him?" Addison asks softly, craning her neck to search the thinning crowd of students.

I laugh as I slide on my jacket. "Hoping to see Ethan, are you?" I sing-song.

Addison only mumbles, her eyes slanting to the floor quickly and I shake my head with a smile.

"Come on, I'll just meet him outside. If he's man enough to show, that is," I tell her, lacing my arm through hers. "If not, well, you'll have to help me slash his tires."

Addison looks up at me, raising a blonde eyebrow. "You know what his car looks like?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I tend to remember what a vehicle looks like when it almost runs me down. I still have the scrape on my knee as a reminder."

Her eyes widen like saucers as we push through the front door and into the chilly March afternoon. "He almost hit you with his car?!" Addison squeaks in her best mouse imitation.

"Actually, she stepped in front of my truck in a desperate plea for my attention," a deep, familiar voice chuckles. "But whatever helps you sleep at night, Skirt."

I whip my head around to see Hunter lounging against the brickwork of the school, an amused grin on his face. Pushing off the wall, Hunter comes to stand beside us, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his flannel work jacket.

"Well, my diabolical plan must have worked then," I smile sweetly, batting my lashes in his direction. "Because I can't seem to get you to stay away."

"I seem to remember it was you that asked me what I was doing tonight," he says, a hand motioning between us.

My eyes flutter up towards the grey sky above our heads, and with a sigh, I turn to Addison. "I'll text you later, m'kay?"

Addison's wide blue eyes flicker between Hunter and I a few times before she nods her head. With a quiet goodbye, she unwinds her arm from mine and heads for the sidewalk and melts into the sea of students heading home for the day.

"So, Skirt, what exactly did you have in mind for us this afternoon?" Hunter asks once my best friend is gone, leaving the two of us standing alone in front of the big front doors.

I grimace at the possible implications of his question, paired with the smirk lighting up his face. "Don't get too excited, jerk," I scoff, watching him out of the corner of my eyes. "We're only going to the diner."

Surprisingly, he simply shrugs off my dismissal and backs towards the sparsely filled parking lot. "Cool. Get in the truck."

I'm taken aback for a second. I was half expecting Hunter to bail on this whole "let's hang out and talk" thing— it's not exactly his style, from what I've heard. But with a quick shake of my head, I trail after him and climb into the passenger side of his old truck.

The quick drive to the diner downtown is quick and painless. Neither of us talk, the soft sounds of country songs I've never heard before in my life and the rumbling of the truck's engine providing us with the soundtrack for our drive.

Like any old fifties movie you see on television, Pauli's Diner appears to be the chosen after-school hangout for the teenagers of Rock Valley High School. As Hunter pulls his truck into an empty spot in the diner's parking lot, I notice a handful of our classmates climbing out of cars and pushing through the glass front doors.

Hunter kills the truck's engine, the quiet music dying along with it as he drops his keys into the pocket of his flannel jacket. As he climbs out of the truck, I find myself somewhat surprised by the fact Hunter has gone an entire ten minutes crammed in a pickup with me, and hasn't made any sort of crude or suggestive comment at me. In fact, his entire demeanor seemed to shift as we approached the old diner. His ever-present cocky grin and inflated ego were always on full display, but it seemed they had all but disappeared in to a cool, flat expression.

Telling myself that I should just enjoy the peace while it lasts, I hop down out of the truck and walk around to the front where Hunter is waiting, phone in hand.

Shockingly, Hunter actually holds the diner door open for me and I'm immediately welcomed by a warm burst of heat as I step in out of the bitter wind. The bell above the door jingles cheerfully as it closes behind us, and a familiar woman in an apron hurries over to greet us.

"Peyton!" Natalie grins, as happy as ever. "I wasn't expecting to see you again until your shift on Wednesday."

I give her a friendly smile. "Guess I can't stay away. It must be your banana loaf-- it's even better than my mom said it was."

Natalie lets out a bubbly laugh, but it fades out as her gaze fixes over my shoulder. Her happy, ever-cheerful face fades into a sad, wistful looking smile. "Hello, Hunter. It's nice to see you back here. It's been a long while."

I can't see Hunter's expression from where he's standing just behind me, but his voice sounds somewhat strained in my ears, even though I can tell he's trying to sound like his usual self. "You can blame this one for that."

With a blink of her eyes and a ring of the bell behind the counter, Natalie nods and her lips twist back up into a smile. "Well, you can sit anywhere you guys would like and I'll grab you a couple fresh slices of banana loaf. How's that sound?"

"That's perfect. Thanks Natalie," I nod as my boss whisks away to the serving counter where plates of hot food are waiting.

I turn my chin over my shoulder to look at Hunter, whose blue eyes are surveying the diner cautiously. With one hand, I wave for him to follow me and lead the way towards a booth in the far corner of the restaurant. Shrugging off my suede coat, toss it down on bright vinyl booth seat before sliding in.

Hunter does the same, wordlessly sliding in across from me before turning to face me with an expectant expression. "Well, are you gonna tell me what we're doing here, Skirt? Or am I gonna have to start guessing."

Instinctively, I cross my legs under the table and lean forward. "Something tells me your train of thought would be far from anything, well, realistic," I tell him.

The corner of his mouth twitches up into something of a half smile. "Apparently," he chuckles lightly, grabbing one of the folded menus from the end of the table. "So you work here, huh?"

I nod my head. "For exactly two days, yeah."

"Might have to start coming back here then," he comments, absently flipping through the menu in front of him.

I can't resist the opening he's left me. The look Natalie gave him is eating away at my curiosity, and for some inexplicable reason, I need to know why.

"Why's you stop coming in the first place?" I ask casually, playing down my curiosity. I have a hunch that if Hunter was to see me express any real interest in something about him, he'd hold onto it just to watch me squirm.

"In case you haven't noticed, Skirt, there's exactly one diner in this town," he says, purposely keeping his gaze glued to the sandwiches section. "And it's been around since before our parents were born. When you eat at the same place twice a week for half your life, it starts to get boring."

I make a noncommittal noise, disappointed at the lack of any damning information in his response. I don't know what I expected to hear him say, but it was a lame excuse if I'd ever heard one.

"So, why start coming back now?"

Hunter shrugs his shoulders, his eyes flicking up to meet mine with a smirk. "'Cause watching you run around in one of those little uniforms totally sounds worth it."

Just then, Natalie hurries over to our table and sets down a covered basket in between Hunter and I, as well as a steamed cup of coffee right under my nose. I fix her with a bright grin as I inhale the delicious smell of caffeinated goodness. "Thanks, Natalie. You're the best, really."

"Just remember you said that when I have to ask you to work overtime someday," she laughs, turning to the boy across from me. "Can I get you anything, Hunter?"

Hunter dismisses her with a small wave of his hand. "Nah, I'm good."

Natalie smiles and tells us to enjoy ourselves before heading back to her post.

I'm surprised by how not-awkward it feels sitting across from Hunter like this. But at the same time, I'm starting to think twice about what I'm here to ask him.

Hey, Hunter. So, I want to destroy your psycho ex-girlfriend but I need your help. Want to be my fake boyfriend?

Maybe I should have thought this through for more than three hours.

"Earth to Skirt," I hear him say, drawing me out of the circus going on in my head. "I mean, I know I look good, but the staring's a little creepy."

I don't realize I've been staring at him until the words come out of his mouth. Automatically, my gaze drops to the slice of banana loaf I've been fiddling with in my hands. "Good to see you're modest," I mutter sarcastically.

He rolls his bright blue eyes, but ignores my comment otherwise. "You gonna get to telling me why we're here anytime soon? Or did you just bring me along to be your eye candy?"

"Definitely not the last one," I scoff, picking up the mug of coffee in front of me and taking a sip. "I have a question for you. Or, well, I guess I wanted to ask a favor."

That seems to grab Hunter's attention, his eyebrow arching curiously. "Is that so? And what could you possibly want from me?"

I don't miss the innuendo in his question, blinking like a giant neon sign. "Actually, the place your mind is probably heading isn't too far off," I admit, setting down the coffee mug in front of me.

"Don't be such a tease, Skirt."

I roll my eyes, but continue past that comment. "It's about your crazy, psycho girlfriend."

Hunter's smirk melts into a look of confusion. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"I'm pretty sure you do," I insist, crossing my arms over my chest. "She's about yay high, red haired and absolutely intolerable? Answers to 'Clarissa' or 'Evil Bitch Incarnate'."

Hunter's lip twitched into a scowl. "She's not my girlfriend," he deadpans.

"That's not what she tells me," I tell him with a wry smile. "And trust me, she so enjoys telling me that when she's accusing me of screwing you."

The muscle in his jaw works as we sit in silence for a moment. He's obviously annoyed by my words, and I can't say I blame him. I mean, I would be annoyed too if I had some crazy person running around behind my back acting like I was their property.

"Look," I say, abandoning my sarcastic tone and leaning forward. "I hate the way she treats everyone like she's better than them. She's cruel, and she gets her kicks out of humiliating others. Nobody deserves to be treated like that, and I can't just stand by on the sidelines and watch her get away with it."

Hunter crosses his arms over his chest, causing the thin cotton of his Henley to stretch over his biceps and distract my wandering eyes for a split second. "And what does this have to do with me?"

"It's simple, really," I shrug. "If you want to see a Queen fall, you have to take away all of the things she's used to prop herself up. When her subjects see that she no longer has all those things that made her special, they'll realize that she's no different than them. That she's unworthy of her crown."

Hunter's expression is still one of confusion. "I still don't see what this has to do with me. Clarissa and I haven't been anywhere remotely close to being anything since we were sophomores. I have nothing to do with her stupid little games."

I dismiss him with a wave of my hand. "To you maybe, but nobody believes you guys aren't a thing. She says you are, so they assume you must be. But, if they were to see you with someone else, they may finally get the hint that she doesn't have a claim on you anymore."

"Where exactly are you going with this, Skirt?" He asks cautiously, studying me through narrowed eyes.

Just come out and say it already, Peyton, I tell myself. I don't understand why I'm talking circles around the idea. It's not like Hunter's bright enough to piece together the puzzle I've thrown out in front of him. The longer I dance around the subject, the less likely this conversation is going to go my way.

I heave a deep breath and straighten my back. "Where I'm going with this, Hunter, is that I want to take Clarissa down. But in order to do that, I need your help. I need you to be seen with someone else— to convince everyone that you have no interest whatsoever in Clarissa Lester."

Hunter's eyes remain narrowed as he watches me explain myself, but the corner of his deadpan expression perks up. "And who exactly do you have in mind?"

"Me. I need them to think you're with me."

Hunter's booming laughter catches me off guard, and I practically fall out of the booth when I jump. He claps his hands together, doubling over as if what I'm saying is the funniest thing he's ever heard. He even catches the eyes of a few patrons around the room, who look over curiously to see what could be so funny.

After a moment, he manages to calm himself down and turn back to me. "No," he grins, shaking him head in amusement. "No way."

It's my turn for my expression to go blank. What does he mean, "no"?

"I mean you're crazy," he says, an amused grin still on his face. "No offence, but you've been here no less than a week, Peyton. What on earth makes you think you of all people can suddenly change the way things are around here? The way things have always been?"

I purse my lips and blink. "Because I was Clarissa, back in New York. I did the things she did, and so did all of my so-called friends. But being here, and seeing how it looks from the other perspective? It's despicable. And I can't undo all of the things I've done, sure, but I can stop them from happening again to someone else."

Hunter seems to think it over for a second, watching me closely as he does so.

"Okay, fine," he admits. "Maybe you have the qualifications— I mean there's nobody else in Rock Valley who could even come close to giving Clarissa a run for her money. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna stick my own neck out on the line for the cause."

Now we're getting somewhere.

"And why's that?" I ask him, taking a bite of the loaf I'd all but forgotten about in front of me. "You scared of a little redhead?"

"Fuck no," he says automatically, and almost defensively.

"Then I guess you've got nothing to lose either," I point out. "And, come on, let's be real here. You've practically been drooling after me since I got here. Now everyone will think you've snagged the new girl in only a week."

Hunter doesn't say anything right away. Instead, he picks up a piece of the baked deliciousness out of the basket on the table and we eat in silence.

That is, until he reaches out and grabs my coffee cup out of my hand.

"Hey!" I explain as he takes a giant gulp out of my cup and sets it back own between his hands.

"What's in it for me?"

I'm confused by his question for a second, before I catch on. "I already told you. You get to tell everyone you got with the new girl."

"That's nothing," he waves me off. "I could tell everyone that anyways and they'd believe me. So, if you really want my help with all this you need to help me out in return."

My eyes narrow into slits as I watch the smug look on his face. He knows damn well I can't do this without him, so he's playing it to his full advantage.

Typical boy.

With a sigh, I grit my teeth sign away my dignity.

"Please, Hunter," I all but beg, forcing myself to sound as sincere as I can in the presence of a megalomaniac. "Help me with this and I will owe you, big time. One favor, anything you want— anything that is not illegal or indecent. I will not got to jail for you, and I will not sleep with you. I have morals."

And just when I thought he couldn't look anymore smug about all of this, he proves me wrong.

"You've got a deal, Skirt."

*insert apology for the long awaited update here*
Let me know how you think this is gonna go! Will Peyton and Hunter become the next It couple at Rock Valley High? Or will Queen Clary see right through their charade?
Until the next time I get around to updating, enjoy this adorable gif of Colton and Posey.

Lots of love...