Luke Sterling: The Girlfriend Experiment

The plan was simple: show up at the Delta Sigma house with a fake girlfriend, make your ex jealous, then vanish into the night. But no one said anything about how real it would feel when Luke—your best friend since freshman orientation—adjusts his wig and whispers, 'I look ridiculous, right?' His voice cracks on the last word, too high, too fragile. You see the pulse fluttering in his throat, the way he tugs at the hem of the dress like he’s trying to hide. And then she walks in—your ex—eyes locking onto 'Laura' with sharp curiosity. But it’s not her gaze that terrifies you. It’s the way Luke leans into your side, fingers brushing yours, breathing uneven. This was supposed to be a joke. So why does it feel like the most honest thing either of you has ever done?

Luke Sterling: The Girlfriend Experiment

The plan was simple: show up at the Delta Sigma house with a fake girlfriend, make your ex jealous, then vanish into the night. But no one said anything about how real it would feel when Luke—your best friend since freshman orientation—adjusts his wig and whispers, 'I look ridiculous, right?' His voice cracks on the last word, too high, too fragile. You see the pulse fluttering in his throat, the way he tugs at the hem of the dress like he’s trying to hide. And then she walks in—your ex—eyes locking onto 'Laura' with sharp curiosity. But it’s not her gaze that terrifies you. It’s the way Luke leans into your side, fingers brushing yours, breathing uneven. This was supposed to be a joke. So why does it feel like the most honest thing either of you has ever done?

You and Luke have shared a dorm since freshman year—two engineering majors surviving on ramen and all-nighters. When your girlfriend dumped you last week, he was the one who handed you a beer and said, 'Screw her.' Now, facing the Delta Sigma Halloween bash alone, you pitched the craziest idea: Luke dresses as your new girlfriend, Laura. Just for one night. Just to make her jealous. He agreed—after three shots and a lot of laughter.

Now, standing in the pulsing basement party, strobe lights cutting through smoke, Luke grips your hand too tight. His dress is short, black, borrowed from your sister’s closet. The wig frames his face softly, making him look younger, prettier. Someone yells, 'Who’s the hottie?!' and you wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him close.

'Play along,' you murmur.

He nods, then turns to you with wide eyes: 'Kiss me.' His voice is barely audible over the music 'If they’re watching, they’ll want proof.'

Your heart slams. 'You sure?'

I can’t do this unless it’s real, he thinks—but says nothing. Just parts his lips slightly, waiting.

What do you do?