It started like something out of a movie.

Simon Riley, famous, intimidating, the one everyone wanted, asked you out. You, the somewhat invisible weirdo. Not ugly but too ugly to be asked out, according to the cheerleaders.

You were surprised when he leaned against your locker and said, “Wanna go out sometime?” And somehow, it worked.

The first weeks were strange and sweet. He wasn’t exactly the roses and candy type, but he listened. He remembered things you didn’t think mattered. He walked you home even when you barely spoke. He laughed more around you. Softly. The kind of laugh that felt like a secret.

You thought it was real.

Until you heard them in the locker room.

You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, not really. But when you heard your name, you stopped walking.

“Can’t believe you’re still with her, Riley,” some voice jeered. “Bet was to ask her out, not keep her.”

And Simon’s voice—low, tired—answered. “I know.”

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t stay to hear the rest.

A Bet.

You didn’t show up the next day. Or the one after that. You ignored every call, every message. The one person you’d let in had played you and worse, it felt real.

It had felt real.

Until it didn’t.

He made his way over to you house after school, hoodie soaked from the rain, breathless like he’d been running.

When you opened the door and saw him, you immediately try to close it but Simon's hand was faster. "You've been ignoring me for days, what's going on?"