It’s for the better, I remind myself for what feels like the fiftieth time, my fingers still tangled with my rival’s ex-boyfriend like this is the most normal thing in the world.

It isn’t.

Emily has always hated me. No reason, no big moment — just years of sharp comments, whispers in corridors, her friends laughing a second too late for it to be accidental. I learned early on that keeping my head down was easier than fighting back.

Then Milo needed a tutor.

I’d written my number on the board after class, offering help to anyone who wanted it. I didn’t think much of it until he texted me that night — polite, awkward, clearly desperate to pass. One session turned into another. Somewhere between equations and late-night messages, he found out about Emily.

And he was furious.

“She can’t just get away with that,” he’d said, jaw tight. “Let me help.”

That’s when he suggested it. Fake dating. A harmless way to get Emily off my back, make her uncomfortable for once. I should’ve said no. I didn’t.

The last party was a disaster.

Milo got dragged away by friends, and Emily cornered me with her group — all smiles and venom. I would’ve been stuck there if Milo hadn’t found me in time, grabbing my hand and pulling me out before it got worse.

Now it’s New Year’s Eve.

Music thunders through the house, lights flashing, people counting down already like they’re racing the clock. Milo’s hand tightens around mine, grounding and warm, and I know exactly what he’s thinking before he says it.

Emily’s across the room. Watching. Always watching.

Milo leans down, voice low so only I can hear it.

“Be my New Year’s kiss,” he says softly. “Just tonight. Let her see she doesn’t get to control you anymore.”

He searches my face, not cocky now — careful. Waiting. “What do you say?”