Fake Date, Real Trouble
Part 2: The Rules Are Tested
Fake dating Miles Carter should’ve been simple.
But when you’re pretending to be in love with the guy every girl in school dreams about… well. Things get blurry.
We made the announcement by simply walking into school together the next morning.
He handed me his hoodie like it was rehearsed. I slipped it on, let it swallow my frame, and raised a perfectly unimpressed brow at Olivia’s death glare across the courtyard.
“You look cold,” he said softly.
“I wasn’t,” I replied, “but I do enjoy theatrical layering.”
He chuckled under his breath. His smile was annoyingly boyish.
At lunch, I sat beside him—his arm slung lazily behind my chair like a casual crown.
“Are you always this graceful under pressure?” he asked, watching me pick apart my sandwich with elegance I didn’t know I still had.
“My therapist says it’s a defense mechanism,” I said lightly, sipping iced tea like a girl raised on ballroom etiquette and sharp words.
He tilted his head. “You have a therapist?”
“Every emotionally competent person should.”
He looked at me for a moment—really looked.
“You’ve been through something.”
I kept my eyes on the table. “Haven’t we all?”
I didn’t tell him the details.
Didn’t tell him about the night my father drove off in silence and never came back. Or the way my mother locked herself in her bedroom for days, emerging only with smudged mascara and a blank stare.
Didn’t tell him that I learned to walk on eggshells before I ever learned to dance.
But he must’ve seen it—some ghost flickering behind my eyes.
Because from then on, he didn’t press.
That weekend, he invited me to his cousin’s birthday. A formal garden party.
“Come on,” he said, “we need to look legit.”
“Fine. But I’m not wearing pink.”
“Deal. You’ll still be the prettiest one there.”
I rolled my eyes but turned away fast—so he wouldn’t see the way my cheeks betrayed me.
His family was… warm. Loud. Messy in the good way. The kind of way that made you feel like you were in a movie, not walking on eggshells hoping no one screamed.
His mom hugged me like I was someone real.
“You’ve got something in your eyes,” Miles whispered as we stood by the garden wall, far from the chatter.
“Pollen,” I lied.
“Grief,” he said gently.
I looked up at him, stunned. Not because he was wrong—but because he said it with such… care. Like he wasn’t afraid of it.
“You don’t need to fake it with me, Callie.”
I held my breath. Then smirked.
🥎 Flashback: The Day She Stayed
It was the first time she came to one of my games.
I remember seeing her standing by the bleachers—not screaming, not waving signs like Olivia used to. Just… watching. Calm. Like she saw through the noise and straight into the quiet part of me.
After the final whistle, the guys were laughing, chasing each other with water bottles. I sat on the edge of the field, pulling off my cleats with numb fingers. I wasn’t in it that day.
“So,” she said, dropping beside me in the grass, “you’re not bad with a ball.”
“Wow. The romance in that sentence.”
She smiled, but it was soft. Not sarcastic.
“Your mom told me,” she added, voice barely above the wind, “that today’s your brother’s anniversary.”
I froze.
She didn’t rush to fill the silence. Didn’t say I’m sorry like people always do when they don’t know what else to say.
“He was your hero,” she said. “She said you still wear his number.”
I nodded.
“You don’t talk about him much,” she added gently.
“Because when I do, people get awkward. Or feel sorry for me.”
She leaned back on her palms, eyes on the sky.
“I don’t feel sorry for you, Miles,” she said. “I feel sorry for a world that never gave him enough reasons to stay.”
My throat tightened.
She pulled something from her bag and set it beside me.
A magician ball.
The kind with the swirling purple liquid and tiny sparkles inside that glowed when you shook it.
“It’s stupid,” she said. “But it reminded me of hope. The kind that hides at the bottom of dark things.”
I didn’t say anything for a long time.
I just stared at it.
At her.
And something cracked open in my chest.
“None of the other girls I’ve dated ever knew about today,” I said, quietly.
“They never asked?”
“They were all sorry he died—no one ever asked why I was hurting.”
She didn’t say anything.
She just stayed.
And I think that was the moment—right there, in the grass, with the stupid magician ball between us—that I started falling.
Because she didn’t try to fix me.
She just saw me.
Callie on her way to home
As I turned the corner toward my street, I caught a glimpse of two figures near the old library steps.
Olivia.
And Madrick.
They were kissing—boldly, like they didn’t care who saw. Like it was already a known thing.
My steps faltered for just a second.
Madrick. The guy Maya was always gushing about. The one she said “looked at her differently.”
I blinked once, then kept walking.
Didn’t say anything. Didn’t react.
Just folded the image away like a crumpled note I didn’t plan to read again.
But some things have a way of coming back.
Read Part 3: Rules Don’t Protect You💔
Comments
Post a Comment