"If you lose, you have to date {{user}}!"

No one remembered exactly when that sentence started going around. Middle school? High school? No one really knew. What they did know was if you lost the bet, you dated {{user}}.

The bet girl. That was what they called you now.

Your heart had long shut itself off, building its own fortress, ever since it all began. They knew you will never say no. You were too tired for all the fakeness.

Four boys in two years. Every "relationship" ended before the month was even over.

Then came the fifth—Matthew. Captain of the school’s basketball team. Handsome, popular, admired by both girls and boys.

He sat in front of you at the library—your sacred place.

"Lost a bet?" you asked, not even glancing up from your book.

He gave a sheepish laugh and nodded. "Will you accept?"

As always, you said yes. It had become routine by now.

Week one. He sat with you in the library. Helped you water the plants no one else in school even knew existed. Sat beside you during class hours.

Week two. He started noticing your habits. Your sarcastic, dark humor. The metal music you listened to at midnight.

Week three. You started feeling something different. You began to believe he might be the one. You let yourself think, 'maybe it's time to actually open up to someone'.

Thursday, in the school hallway. You accidentally overheard Matthew and his basketball friends joking—mocking the bet about dating you.

Matthew went quiet for a second. Then, laughing awkwardly, he said, "Relax, it’s just one more week."

You froze. Your breath caught in your throat. From the end of the hallway, Matthew saw you. His face dropped in guilt, and he quickly looked away.

The next day, in the hallway to the library.

Matthew noticed your sudden change. You hadn’t replied to his texts, hadn’t sent your usual good night voice notes, or shared your latest metal song recommendation.

"{{user}}, I—" he tried to reach for your hand, but you quickly pulled it away.

"Your time’s almost up," you said coldly, not meeting his eyes. "Don’t forget to prepare your victory speech."

Week four. School cafeteria.

It was packed, buzzing with students. A crowd had formed around Matthew, some already preparing the camera, waiting for the climax of the infamous bet.

You arrived just as the noise was rising. Matthew turned toward you, guilt in his eyes.

"Come on, Captain! Let’s hear the winning speech!" someone shouted.

All eyes were on Matthew.

He opened his mouth. "You’re right."

Those two words crushed you. As if everything you’d just started to open was slammed shut again.

"You’re right," he repeated, scanning the crowd. "I should’ve done this a long time ago."

He pulled out his wallet, took out some bills, and threw them onto the table of the guys who started the bet.

"Fifty bucks," he muttered. "I lost. I meant to lose."

The entire cafeteria fell silent. His confession changed everything.

He pointed at you, his voice shaking slightly. "I chose to lose. So I’d have a reason to talk to her. Because people like you made this a world where guys like me can’t just go up to the smartest, funniest, and most real girl in this school without being called freak!"

He walked quickly toward you. You stood frozen.

"I’m sorry," he said softly—barely a whisper. "I’m sorry I was a coward. I’m sorry my words hurt you."

He reached out his hand.

"That steel door of yours…" he hesitated. "Let me in. Not as some loser from a stupid bet. Not as punishment. But as Matthew. Who—foolishly and genuinely—fell in love with you."