Kissing Damien, pretending to date him… what could possibly go wrong?

Elise's POV

I hate walking into the classroom every morning. I am always the quiet one, and as soon as the door swings open, all eyes land on me.

The attention makes it hard to breathe. My skin prickles, and my chest feels tight. My heart races. There is no outright laughter, no name-calling like in high school, but the silence presses down on me, heavier than any words.

I hate being alone. I hate having no friends. I hate wearing the same worn-out clothes. I hate feeling like I am not normal. I hate not being happy.

The loneliness makes me feel exposed, and someone definitely took advantage of that when he… when he violated me.

Tears sting the corners of my eyes. Sometimes I think I am trapped in this endless loop, haunted by his face, the way he pinned me against that wall. The memory claws at me, threatening to break through, but I will not let myself cry.

I keep my gaze low, avoiding the sneers in the classroom.

Stay strong. Breathe. Keep moving forward.

But I cannot block out the whispers. The popular girls are already at it, throwing dirty looks while gossiping about me.

"Oh, look, it is the ugly duckling."

I am the ugly duckling.

"Does she ever wear anything new?"

No. I cannot afford it.

"Aren’t her parents… alcoholics?"

They are.

"I heard they threw her out."

That is not true. I live with Ciard and Aurora in an apartment because I cannot pay rent on my own.

"It must be hard living with a weirdo. Elise barely speaks, and when she does, she stammers."

I have stammered ever since it happened. It is exhausting.

I clutch my laptop to my chest and hurry to the back of the classroom, trying to disappear.

One girl pouts at me and murmurs, "I actually feel sorry for the ugly little duckling. She is so awkward that nobody wants to be her friend."

Her words sting, but I force myself to stay calm.

"Did you sleep well?"

Shock runs through me. I lift my eyes. Damien is there, pulling out the chair next to mine, wearing a tired expression.

"I did…" I murmur, unsure why he is here. We are project partners, but this is our history class, not the one for the presentation.

Why is he sitting with me?

He drops into the seat with a stretch. "Good for you," he mutters, rubbing his shoulders. "I slept like crap."

I glance at him, and at the mean girls from before. They are staring at us.

I want to laugh. Are they jealous? Should I feel guilty for hoping they are? Probably. But they were cruel, and the thought of it feels satisfying.

Damien chuckles softly. "Ah, great. You are talking to yourself in your head again, huh?"

I look at him. He sighs. "Anyway, you are fine with taking notes for me today, right?"

Wait. What?

I widen my eyes as he tries a smile that is meant to be charming but comes off more like a grin—a lion, or maybe a hyena.

I bite back the urge to tell him, So that is why you are sitting with me.

What other reason would there be? Damien leans back in his chair, resting his arms on the table. "I woke up at five to run, then I worked out until every muscle screamed. My arms are so sore from lifting."

"Not my problem," I mutter, keeping my tone low.

He narrows his eyes. "Did you just give me attitude?"

My heart is racing, but I manage a shrug. "You are angry at me, yet you are the one pushing me around."

He blinks, then quickly recovers. "Well, you are a nerd, are you not? I bet you get top grades in every single class."

"Yes… I do," I admit, blushing despite myself. Damien makes it sound almost embarrassing that I care so much about school. It is true that my world revolves around classes and exams, but can anyone blame me for working hard? College is everything to me; it feels like the only chance I have to make my life brighter after so much darkness.

"See?" Damien yawns. "Your notes will be way better than mine. Send them to me after class."

"Why does it feel like I just became your servant?" I ask under my breath.

He closes his eyes, lips curling into a small smile. "Thanks, Elise."

My heart stops for a moment and then races again. I know I should be wary of Damien—he is arrogant, selfish, and completely reckless. Yet something inside me flutters when I see him smile. What is wrong with me?

"I am going to take a nap," he mutters. "Poke me if the teacher comes over."

I lick my lips and whisper back, "You would probably bite my head off if I tried."

"I do not bite," he says casually.

The teacher is talking loudly, pacing across the room and speaking into the microphone. I lean closer to Damien, whispering again. "That is a lie, and you know it."

One of his eyes cracks open. "Are you ever going to stop? I need my beauty sleep."

"See, my point has been made. You are an asshole."

Oh no. Did I really just say that out loud? My heart is pounding like a drum. It may seem small, but for me, this is bold. I am rebelling.

His eyes narrow, his expression unreadable. Did you just call me an asshole without panicking?

Oh, crap. Is he angry? I return to my laptop, pretending to focus on the screen. My heart is already racing too fast; I do not need any more reasons for it to pound.

But… oh my god. I cannot believe I just talked back to Damien.

"Hey, I have been thinking," Damien says suddenly. "You should come to my games."

I look down at him. "Why?"

"Because you are supposed to be my fake girlfriend," Damien says. "You have to play the part well. If I had a real girlfriend, she would definitely be at my games, wearing my jersey, and smiling like she is proud to be with me."

I feel my cheeks heat up. "Uh, I am pretty sure your jersey would not fit me."

"That is the point," he mutters. "It is supposed to look cute."

"Why do you even need a fake girlfriend again?" I ask.

"Mostly because my parents will not stop nagging me about finding a woman, getting married, and all that stuff. But also so gold diggers do not bother me."

"Your parents want you to get married already?"

He shrugs. "I guess it is important to them. They have been trying to push me toward a girl named Vanya."

"But you are not interested?"

"Nope. But if I can convince them that we love each other, they will leave me alone. And you want real food, right?"

I sigh, my cheeks burning. "I do… I just do not have much money. Sorry for being a food digger."

Damien grins, that sly, wild grin again. "No problem. It actually works out perfectly. The deal is still on because we both get something out of it, but we have to practice doing couple stuff."

"Okay… like what?"

"Who knows? Pottery, pumpkin carving, whatever stupid stuff girls like. Oh, and later you should sit in my lap in the library. That way everyone will think we are dating."

I stare at him, my heart hammering. The thought of sitting in Damien’s lap, going on fake dates with him… it is a little exciting. Maybe this could be more than just free food.

"I… I can do the lap thing," I say quietly.

"See? You are stammering again," he teases.

I flush even harder. "Sorry…"

"Stop apologizing all the time," Damien says with a sigh, scratching the back of his neck and looking away. "We also need to kiss each other more."

"Kissing?"

"Yes," he says.

"Okay…" I manage, my stomach twisting with nerves.

"A lot," he adds.

Can I really do that? The last time we kissed, something sparked inside me. I am not sure it was normal, and I know it probably is not a good sign. But I cannot fall for him. I cannot.

Yet when I look at Damien, my chest feels soft and my thoughts scatter. He is attractive, and I can feel myself slipping a little. I need to be careful.

"Lots of kissing," I repeat, nodding. "Got it."

Kissing Damien, pretending to date him… what could possibly go wrong?