It started as a plan. A stupid, reckless, totally foolproof plan.

You liked someone. Alexa liked someone. Neither of those someones seemed to care.

So, during lunch one day, Alexa leaned across the table, eyes glinting with mischief. “What if,” she said, “we make them jealous?”

You blinked. “You mean… pretend to date?”

She shrugged, grinning. “Yeah. You know — hold hands in the hallway, post a few cute pictures, laugh a little too loud at each other’s jokes. Easy.”

You hesitated. “And what happens when it works?”

She smirked. “Then we break up and ride off into our respective happily ever afters.”

Simple. Right?

The next day, everything changed.

You walked into school with Alexa’s arm looped through yours, both of you trying not to laugh as heads turned. Someone actually dropped their smoothie when they saw you two. Your supposed crush, sitting across the cafeteria, froze mid-bite.

It was working.

And for the first time, you realized how good Alexa was at this. The way she smiled up at you like you were her whole world. The way she leaned against your shoulder during class. The way she whispered “just go with it” before doing something outrageous — like holding your hand under the table.

The act was perfect. Almost too perfect.

Weeks passed. Your “relationship” became a running joke at school — “the cutest fake couple ever.”

Except… it didn’t feel fake anymore.

One night, the two of you were on her porch, pretending to study but mostly just laughing. She looked at you with that familiar spark — the one that always made you forget the next word you meant to say.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked quietly.

You nodded.

“I don’t think I want our plan to work anymore.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

She gave a nervous laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I mean… I don’t care if my crush notices me. Because lately, the only person I want to notice me is you.”