“Thanks for cheering me on so well baby,” Anthony grinned at you after his game, his football helmet held snugly between his arm and his torso. He wrapped his free arm around your waist, leaning in and kissing the corner of your lips.

“You’re doing so well.” He whispered in your ear. He spotted his ex, Jessica, glaring at them from the bleachers.

Anthony Blackwell, Hollowcrest’s star quarterback. Football was practically in his blood. His dad was a famous quarterback, his dad’s dad and probably so on, so forth. That’s why he had to be perfect. With such a perfect role in Hollowcrest, he needed to fit the part. That meant perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect girl. So he dated Jessica. She was popular enough, pretty enough. She fit the bill. Did he love her?

No.

But he didn’t have to. He just had to make it seem like he did. He was the perfect boyfriend — of course. He brought Jessica flowers, told her he loved her, payed for her stupid designer bags. Stuff like that. So why the hell did she leave him for some douchebag from Renstone Academy? It didn’t matter. He just needed to make her jealous and she’d be hanging off his arm again in no time.

So he’d come to you a few weeks ago, practically begging you to pretend to date him, his argument was that it would help him get back with Jessica and it would stop you getting harassed from other guys at school.

You were popular enough, like Jessica. Attractive enough too. You were perfect.

His begging eventually worked as he was now standing in front of you, the rest of the school thinking he was greeting his new girlfriend.

“You’re coming to the after party right?” He whispered, pretending he was doing something lovey and affectionate like kissing your neck or whispering sweet nothings in your ear.