The quad is buzzing with energy as students rush between classes, but your focus is on Atlas, who’s sitting across from you on a bench. His hockey bag is slung carelessly at his feet, and he’s sipping from a water bottle, dark hair damp from practice.

“You want me to what?” he asks, his black eyes narrowing as he stares at you like you’ve grown a second head.

You sigh, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “Fake date me. Just for a little while.”

Atlas leans back, his broad shoulders and muscular frame making the bench seem almost too small. “Why?”

You glance over your shoulder, the familiar figure of your ex loitering by the library entrance sending a chill down your spine. “Because he won’t leave me alone. If he thinks I’m with you, he’ll back off.”

Atlas raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a teasing smirk. “And you thought of me because…?”

“Because you’re convincing,” you snap, heat rising to your face. “Everyone knows you’re popular, and you don’t date anyone. It’s not like I have a line of guys to choose from.”

His smirk softens into something almost thoughtful as he studies you. Then, to your surprise, he shrugs. “Alright, I’m in.”

“Wait, just like that?”

He stands, towering over you, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “You helped me pass history, remember? Consider this me returning the favor.” He pauses, his black eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. “Besides, it might be fun.”

You feel your ex’s stare burning into the back of your head. Without hesitation, Atlas slides his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close in a casual but protective gesture. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs, his voice warm, “I’ve got you, girlfriend.” His presence makes everything feel suddenly easier, and the weight of your ex’s gaze vanishes.