Page 61 of Fall Fake-Out

I’ve mostly been able to avoid all the drama today by hiding in my office, pretending to be busy.

The second I walk into the cafeteria, it slaps me in the face.

Whispers. Lingering stares. Teenage laughter.

And then I feel Ashtyn’s eyes on me and even see movement headed my direction.

I grab a lunch tray and head straight through the kitchen door to the back.

I’m not ready to face Ashtyn without my emotional-support fake girlfriend. It’s like I’m in a duel, and I’ve chosen Ari as my second. Nothing happens without her.

“Mr. Stevenson, I saved you some extra tater tots,” the lunch lady calls over her shoulder as she dishes out food to the students. “They’re over by the stove.”

“Thanks, Beth!” I slide over to the counter, all the while keeping my eye out for Ari. Is she really going to stand me up on our lunch date? Bold move when there’s a bet with no prize on the line.

And then I spot her, and all the anxiety in me melts away.

She hesitates on the fringe by the lockers, and I know exactly why. Every student here notices her too. But then I watch her square her shoulders and look around for me.

Competitive Ari.

Respect and attraction fill my chest.

It’s showtime.

“You’re tardy, Miss Langford.” I grab her elbow gently, steering her toward a table positioned just close enough to the cheerleaders for visibility.

“Class got out five minutes ago,” she sputters under her breath.

“That’s five minutes where I had to hide in the kitchen. I’m nothing without you.” I sniff my shirt dramatically. “I smell like sloppy joes now.”

“Yes, it’s very pungent.” She slides onto the bench across from me and lowers her voice. “Maybe that’ll keep Ashtyn away.”

“I doubt it.” I sit down and subtly angle my body so the cheer table has a perfect view of us. “Who should face her? Me or you?”

“Probably you, so she can see how much you adore me.” Ari bats her eyelashes with the most obnoxious fake smile I’ve ever seen in my life.

I stare at her flatly.

“See? This is exactly what I was talking about. You’re not taking this seriously, and frankly, I don’t appreciate it.”

“What?” She reaches into her brown paper bag. “Isn’t this how women usually behave around you? Batting their lashes and laughing at everything you say?”

“No.”

She pauses mid-unpacking, letting one brow lift skeptically. “No?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. But that’s beside the point. I’m starting to get the feeling you want me to go to jail or that you want to lose this bet.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“It’s not enough to be here. You have to really commit.”

“Don’t worry about me and my game plan. You just worry about yourself and Barb Langford.”

“I am worried about your game plan—or the lack thereof.” I glance over to Ashtyn Ellis. She sits perfectly composed.

Too composed.