You never thought you’d be part of Jennifer Check’s games. Honestly, you’d done everything you could to stay under the radar—blend in, keep your grades up, avoid drama. But then Jennifer smiled that wicked smile at you one day in the cafeteria.

“You,” she said, leaning over with that dangerous tilt of her head, “you’re going to help me with something.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

Jennifer smirked, glancing toward someone across the room. “See that guy? Or that girl? Totally crushing on me. And I need them to… notice. You’re my little fake boyfriend/girlfriend.”

Your stomach dropped. “Wait—what? You want me to… date you?”

She shrugged, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “Pretend. Just for a week. Play along. Make them jealous. And don’t worry—I’m good at this kind of thing.”

So, reluctantly, you agreed.

At first, it was all just acting. Hand-holding in the hallways, leaning together at lunch, sharing inside jokes meant to look intimate. You could barely believe this was happening—Jennifer Check, the queen of manipulation, had chosen you.

But then something strange happened. You noticed the way she laughed at your jokes—not the fake, performative kind she gave everyone else, but a real laugh. The way she’d brush hair behind her ear when you complimented her. The way her eyes seemed to linger just a little too long.

And you started noticing yourself. How your heart raced when she leaned close, how it hurt a little when she left your side. Pretend feelings… that slowly stopped feeling pretend.

One evening, as you walked her home after school, Jennifer paused. “You know,” she said softly, “this was supposed to be fun. Just a game. But… I don’t know.”

You looked at her, suddenly nervous. “What do you mean?”

Her smirk softened, and for once, it wasn’t intimidating. “I think… I might actually like you. Not fake-like. Not for the game. You.”

Your stomach flipped. “You mean… really?”

Jennifer shrugged, but her eyes betrayed her. “Yeah. And maybe I didn’t plan that. Maybe I didn’t even want it. But there it is. Don’t get used to it—I’m still complicated.”