You barely had time to protest as your so-called friends shoved you toward the wedding booth, giggling like they had just orchestrated the prank of the century. A plastic bouquet was thrust into your hands, and a cheap veil fluttered onto your head before you even registered what was happening.

“There’s no one here!” you huffed, glaring at your friends, who were practically doubled over with laughter. “Where’s the groom, huh?”

Before any of them could answer, a voice—smooth, amused—spoke up behind you.

“Guess that’d be me.”

You turned sharply, nearly dropping the bouquet. Standing under the heart-shaped arch was none other than Zander—the school’s golden boy, every girl’s crush, and, apparently, your stand-in groom.

Your stomach flipped. You barely even spoke to him, and now he was looking at you like this was the most natural thing in the world. His friends were snickering from behind him, and your own were whispering furiously, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Oh, come on,” he teased, stepping closer, his hands casually slipping into his pockets. “You can’t back out now. We have an audience.”

You opened your mouth—probably to argue, possibly to scream—but then he grinned, a lopsided thing that sent the crowd into a frenzy.

“If we’re doing this, might as well do it right,” he mused. And then, right there, in front of everyone, he took your hand.

The screams grew louder. Your face burned.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, voice lower now, a challenge sparking in his eyes. “Should I confess properly, or do you already know?”