You never expected Effy to agree to your ridiculous plan, but here you were—standing in the middle of her messy flat, plotting the ultimate fake relationship

“I’m doing this because it’ll piss him off,” you muttered, scrolling through your phone for proof that he was scrolling through his feed, probably smug and oblivious

Effy lounged on her bed, hair a chaotic halo around her pale face, an unreadable expression painted across her features “Fine. But if I do this, we do it my way,” she said, flicking a strand of hair over her shoulder

You knew “her way” could mean anything—from staring at people silently to posting cryptic messages online—but you didn’t care. The goal was simple: make him jealous

The first week was… surprisingly fun

You held hands in the cafeteria, whispered fake sweet nothings in crowded hallways, and even shared a kiss that was just slightly too long in front of his friends. Effy played it perfectly, teasing and mysterious, leaving everyone—including you—on edge

Except, somewhere between the staged texts and mock dates at the park, things started to shift. You noticed her smile when you told a dumb joke wasn’t fake. You caught the way her hand lingered on yours a second too long

And the night you “argued” in her room for show, her eyes softened in a way that wasn’t part of the act

“Why do I even like this plan?” you whispered under your breath, your heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with acting

Effy’s gaze snapped to yours, sharp and unreadable, then softer than you’d ever seen “Maybe you don’t mean it,” she murmured, leaning closer

Your breath hitched “What?”

“You,” she said simply “faking it… it’s making me feel things I didn’t want to feel.”