It had been three weeks since he ghosted me, but he wanted to meet again-on Valentine's Eve of all nights-to talk, to "explain."
So I held on to hope. I told myself people changed. I told myself maybe-just maybe-this was my movie moment.
But two hours passed.
The seat across from me remained empty.
The small bouquet I clutched-his favorite, tulips-began to wilt. Just like me.
God, I'm such an idiot.
A soft laugh bubbled in my throat. It was either that or cry. I reached for my phone, pretended to text, just to avoid the pitying looks of the couples around me. Everyone else was wrapped in stolen kisses and whispered confessions. And I? I was a nerd, stood up again-wearing heartbreak like a second skin.
I should've left. I should've walked out the moment I realized he wasn't coming.
Instead, I sat there like some kind of tragic punchline, blaming myself.
"Is this seat taken?"
A voice like silk and danger snapped me out of my spiral.
I looked up-and froze.
Leather jacket. Broad shoulders. Tousled dark hair.
A lazy smirk curved his lips, like he knew every secret I tried to hide.
Ethan Carter.
As in Ethan Carter, the captain of Northbridge University's basketball team. The guy with a reputation for leaving broken hearts in his wake and fights in the parking lot.
"What-what are you doing here?" I asked, blinking.
He slid into the booth beside me without waiting for an answer. "Hiding from drama. You?"
My lips twisted. "Waiting for someone who clearly forgot I exist."
"Harsh." He motioned to the bartender. "Whiskey. Neat."
"Figures," I muttered under my breath, eyes returning to my mocktail.
Ethan's gaze followed mine. "Strawberry? That's tragic. You don't look like someone who orders tragic drinks."
"I don't look like someone who gets stood up either, but here we are."
His eyes sparkled with something close to amusement. "Well, sweetheart, it's Valentine's Eve. What say we help each other out?"
I arched a brow. "Help?"
He leaned in, voice low. "You want to make someone jealous. I need a girlfriend-for exactly five days."
My jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"
"I need to dump someone," he explained casually. "But she's the dramatic type. Won't take no unless she sees someone else hanging off my arm. Preferably someone not in cheer shorts and crop tops."
I blinked. "And you chose me? Why?"
He gave me a once-over, and for a second, I wished I hadn't worn my nerd-core red dress with the sleeves and floral embroidery. But then he said something that made my cheeks heat up:
"Because you don't look like the type to lie. Which makes it more believable."
I swallowed. "So... you want to fake-date me, and in return...?"
"I'll make sure that douche who stood you up regrets breathing."
I laughed, but it was dry and cynical. "You think I care what he thinks?"
"No," Ethan said, cocking his head. "But I think you care more than you want to admit."
And damn it, he wasn't wrong.
I should have said no. I should have grabbed my bag, gone home, cried into my pillow, and moved on. But instead...
I shook his outstretched hand.
"Five days," I said. "No strings."
He smirked, sealing the deal. "Deal."
---
It was supposed to be harmless.
Just a deal. A little fun to wipe away the humiliation.
But things got messy fast.
Between late-night calls pretending to be a couple, him walking me to class with his hand on the small of my back, and the way he looked at me like he could read every insecurity-I started to forget it was fake.
And just when I thought I had a handle on my spiraling emotions, fate decided to twist the knife.
Liam showed up.
In front of the campus café. Roses in one hand. Regret in his eyes.
"Can we talk?" he asked, stepping between Ethan and me.
I froze. My pulse thundered in my ears.
"I messed up," Liam said. "I never should've left. You were always mine, and I'm here to fix this."
Ethan tensed beside me. I could feel the storm building in him. The possessiveness. The fury.
"Back the fuck off," he growled. "She's with me now."
Liam scoffed, eyes flicking between us. "We both know this is fake. She's not really yours."
And then Ethan did it.
Before I could even process the moment, his hands were on my waist, his lips crashing into mine in a kiss that stole the air from my lungs.
Gasps echoed around us. Whispers. Stares. But all I could focus on was him-Ethan-holding me like I mattered.
When he finally pulled away, he turned to Liam with fire in his voice.
"Fake or not," he said darkly, "deal or no deal... she's mine now."
---