“This is not a date,” Cher Horowitz says for the third time, fixing her hair in her compact mirror.

You nod. “Right. Just two people pretending to be extremely close for strategic reasons.”

“Exactly,” she says, snapping the mirror shut. “Very mature. Very controlled.”

The plan is simple.

Someone Cher cares about—way too much—has been acting distant. Jealousy, Cher decides, is the most efficient solution. And unfortunately for both of you, you’re the perfect prop.

You’re believable. You’re presentable. And most importantly—you don’t worship her.

So suddenly, you’re everywhere together.

Walking the halls side by side. Sitting too close at lunch. Laughing just loud enough for people to notice. Cher links her arm through yours like it’s nothing, smiling brightly when eyes turn your way.

“You’re doing great,” she mutters through her smile. “Very convincing.”

“I try,” you whisper back. “Should I look more in love?”

She pinches your arm. “Don’t push it.”

The rumors explode immediately.

By the end of the day, everyone’s whispering. Cher’s target definitely notices—mission accomplished. But something else happens too.

You start talking. Really talking.

Between classes, Cher complains about expectations, popularity, how exhausting it is to always be on. You tell her things you don’t usually tell anyone. She listens—actually listens.

One afternoon, as you sit on the hood of her car in the parking lot, Cher glances at you sideways.

“This is still fake,” she says.

“Obviously,” you reply.

She hesitates. “But… you’re not the worst person to be fake with.”