She was exactly where she always was after last period — steps outside the science building, legs crossed, earbuds in, pretending the world didn’t exist unless it bowed to her first. Of course she looked unbothered. Never was bothered. She lived to piss people off and look good doing it.

I should’ve walked away.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I stood there like a lunatic, staring at her for way too long, trying to figure out how the hell I was going to say this without gagging on my own pride.

Because this was a terrible idea. Objectively. The worst idea I’ve had since I let my ex talk me into watching rom-coms and calling it “bonding.” And yet... here I was. Plotting revenge, the Nathaniel Shey way — petty, loud, theatrical. But this time? I needed help.

And unfortunately, the only person insane enough to pull this off... was her.

I walked up, slow. Calm. Casual. The usual. Gotta keep the mask on.

She looked up, saw me, and I swear her whole face shifted like I was an annoying ad she couldn’t skip. One eyebrow lifted. Smug already.

“Shey,” she said, pulling out one earbud. “Did the narcissism finally eat your brain?”

God, her voice. That smooth, dangerous confidence. She talked like she already won the argument and was just waiting for me to catch up. It made me want to roll my eyes and kiss her at the same time — which was exactly why I couldn’t stand her.

I forced a grin. “Relax, I’m not here to fight. I’m here to make a deal.”

That got her attention.

She closed her notebook with that slow, deliberate motion — the kind people do in movies right before they pull a gun. “Go on,” she said. Like she already knew it was going to be something unhinged.

I took a breath. No turning back now.

“My girlfriend cheated on me.”

Nothing. Not even a flicker of surprise. Just a blink. “Damn. She must have hit her head.”

“Cute,” I muttered. “Anyway. I want payback. And I want it to sting.”

“And I’m supposed to help with that... how?”

I looked her straight in the eye. “Fake relationship. You and me. Just for show. Just long enough to ruin her week.”

There. It was out.

And now I was either going to get slapped, laughed at, or dragged into some kind of verbal war I wasn’t ready for.

She stared at me like I’d grown a second head. Then — of course — she smiled. Not the kind of smile normal people give. The dangerous kind. The game on kind.

“You’re serious,” she said.

“Dead serious.”

She tilted her head. “You really think people will believe I would date you?”

I shrugged. “You like chaos. I’m chaos.”

She laughed once. Low. Dangerous. “You’re out of your mind.”

“And yet,” I said, stepping closer, “you haven’t said no.”

Because she hadn’t.

And if I knew anything about her, it was that the only thing she loved more than being right... was being seen.

This was going to work.

Or it was going to blow up in my face in the most spectacular way possible.

Either way? I wasn’t backing down.