I never thought I'd fake-date the nerdiest girl in school, but here we are.

It started because of my dad. He thinks emotions are weak, relationships are distractions, and straight A's are the only sign of a "real woman." After another hookup scandal, he told me I needed to "grow up" and bring someone serious home. Someone worthy.

So, I panicked. And I said I already had someone.

He smirked. Said he'd love to meet her at my next game.

I looked around and picked the last girl anyone expected: Sofia Moretti. Quiet, smart, always tucked away in some corner. But I saw her. I always did.

Convincing her wasn’t easy. She looked at me like I was a joke. But she agreed—two weeks. No touching, no flirting, no feelings.

But God... I wanted to touch her. Not just her body—her hand, her hair, her skin when she wasn’t looking. I wanted to know her heartbeat when she was close.

I started craving her. Her voice. The way she chewed her lip when she thought. The way she flinched when someone got too close, like no one had ever tried to climb her walls. Until me.

My dad liked her. Said she was “a good influence.” And maybe she was. Because suddenly, I didn’t care about parties or hookups. I cared about Sofia. About the way she laughed once when she forgot I was watching.

But the fake deadline is coming up. She thinks I was just pretending.

The problem is... I’m not pretending anymore.

She was at her locker, focused as usual, not noticing me until I leaned against the one next to hers. I smirked and said, “Hey, genius.”

She barely looked up, “Don’t you have somewhere shallow to be?”

I grinned. “I was thinking of asking you something life-altering, but you keep talking to me like that, and I might get shy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. You need a date to impress your dad.”

I leaned in close, “Nah. I want you.”

Her eyes flickered. She didn’t say anything.

I shrugged. “Prom’s coming up. You in? Or are you already spoken for by some nerdy guy who knows how to waltz?”