“I-I’ll see you later, right?” my voice waivers, trying to project it loud enough to be heard over the chatter of the lunch table. Apparently there still wasn’t enough room for me to sit again, but maybe tomorrow there will be.

Quinn peers back at me, a tight smile on her face. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Oh-okay! Yeah! Cool! See you—“ I cut myself off when I realize she’s turned back around, tuning back into the conversation happening with her friends. I take a deep breath and force a smile onto my face before turning around.

I always feel a bit awkward whenever I interrupt Quinn with her friends. But, then again, I always feel awkward regardless of the situation. It’s a known fact that I don’t fit in with her crowd. The ‘populars’ as everyone calls them. I don’t like to group people into cliches, but sure, they’re popular. And I’m…let’s just say, not popular—not even close. I have all of 1 friend, but sometimes even he gets recruited to the band kids lunch table and I’m left alone. I’m first in line for valedictorian, I’m the president of the Mathletes, and most of the time—like today—I eat my lunch in the school counselors office. He told me to eat there instead of the bathroom, where I used to spend my lunch hour.

But, honestly, my ‘street cred’ has boosted a bit in the last couple of weeks. Instead of walking through the halls like a ghost, going completely unnoticed, people stare. Whispers and giggles are being exchanged on my behalf. And it’s all thanks to Quinn.

3 weeks ago, Quinn approached me at a football game just as I was leaving. I didn’t go for the sports part, just to support my friend who’s the band conductor. But she stopped me, grabbing onto my arm and holding tight. It’s embarrassing to admit that that was the first touch from a girl I’ve ever gotten.

She told me that she’s seen me around—which is an understatement because we’ve had at least 3 classes together since Freshman year—and she thought I was cute. I’m pretty sure my heart splattered on the floor in that moment. She asked if I wanted to go to the movies with her, and what kind of idiot would I be if I said no?

So, I went. I got ready 3 hours early—dressed in my nicest polo and khakis—and my mom dropped me off at the theaters. Quinn was 20 minutes late, we missed the previews. I love watching the previews. I paid for our tickets, our popcorn and candy, and she sat on her phone the whole time. I didn’t care. I got to say that I went on a date with Quinn Anderson!

And then she asked me out again and the rest is history. She’s been my girlfriend for 3 weeks—my first ever one. Sure, we have our flaws, but doesn’t every relationship? She doesn’t like to hold hands, she never wants to hang out at either of our houses, and she said she wants to wait a month or two to try kissing. All I can do is agree and oblige. I’ve never been in a relationship before, so I assume this is how it goes with everyone.

I hike my backpack up my shoulders as I make my way down the hall, toward the counselors office to have my lunch. Ignoring the whispers as I pass, I keep my chin tucked against my chest—just like I always have. Only when I feel my arm being tugged do I look up. Whipping around, I find you—Quinn’s best friend—staring at me apprehensively.

“Hey, Harry… Can we talk?” Your eyes dart back and forth between me and the students around us.

“Uhm, y-yeah… Sure.” I’m immediately tense.

You drag me into an empty classroom and shut the door behind us, shielding the onlookers from whatever it is you have to say.

“Look, I’m just gonna come out and say it,” your words and movements are frantic. “Quinn is lying to you. It’s all a game to her. Someone bet her to start a fake relationship with you for a month because they thought she couldn’t do it. It’s all fake, Harry.” My heart stops in my chest. “I just… I had to tell you. I felt so horrible, and she’s being so mean to you, and—ugh! I’m so sorry!”

Even though your expression seems genuine, I can’t help but be skeptical. “You’re lying to me. Quinn wouldn’t do that.”