CHAPTER FIVE: THE WORST IDEA EVER

CHAPTER FIVE: THE WORST IDEA EVER**

**CHLOE'S POV**

Ryan's eyes were still on us when Caleb finally led me away from the fire.

"Try not to look so miserable," he said, taking a sip of his drink. "People might think I kidnapped you."

"Give me five minutes, and I might report you for it."

He laughed and kept walking beside me until we reached a bench at the edge of the field. He sat down, legs spread comfortably. I took the opposite end, leaving enough space between us for another person.

He glanced at the gap. "Planning to invite someone to join us?"

"Actually, I was hoping you'd fall off."

"That's the Chloe I know."

I rolled my eyes. He took another drink, then studied me for a moment.

"You know, people say you and I are enemies."

"Who exactly is surprised by that?"

"Fair point." He looked toward the fire, where Ryan and Olivia stood close together, and his expression shifted. "Since I'm in love with Olivia, and she's obviously falling head over heels for Ryan, I think I have a plan."

I stared at him. "Oh, God. What now?"

"Let's pretend to date."

For two seconds, I said nothing.

Then I burst out laughing. Not a polite laugh, not even a small one. I laughed so hard I had to cover my mouth.

Caleb watched me with an offended expression. "Glad my suffering amuses you."

"Caleb, that's the dumbest idea you've ever had, and that's saying something."

"It's not dumb."

"You want me to date you?"

"Pretend to date me."

"That's worse!"

He sighed. "Just listen. If Olivia sees us together, she gets to see what kind of boyfriend I can be. If Ryan sees us together, he sees what he's missing. Meanwhile, he might start looking at you differently once he realizes another guy wants you."

I stopped laughing.

Wait.

That was, annoyingly, the most brilliant idea I had ever heard from Caleb Walker. Which was deeply disturbing.

He noticed my silence and shrugged. "Forget it. You clearly hate the idea."

"Wait."

"Wait, what?"

"Wait, wait, wait."

His eyebrows rose.

"I said I was considering it."

"You laughed in my face."

"I've changed my mind."

"About laughing?"

"About the plan, you idiot!"

For the first time that evening, Caleb looked genuinely shocked. "You're serious?"

"Unfortunately."

He leaned forward, studying me as if he suspected a head injury. "So we're dating?"

"No. We're *pretending* to date."

"Right. My mistake. I wouldn't want to confuse our passionate love story with reality."

"I would rather kiss a raccoon than date you for real."

He burst out laughing. "Who would believe it, anyway? Everyone knows we can't stand each other."

"Exactly." I smiled for the first time that night. "Enemies to lovers. People adore that sort of thing."

He stared at me, then shook his head. "You're unbelievable."

"And you're annoying. Now, before I change my mind, we need rules."

"Rules?"

"No kissing. No hugging. No holding hands unless absolutely necessary. And don't get any ideas about touching me whenever you feel like it."

He raised both hands. "Anything else, Your Majesty?"

"Yes. Don't call me that."

"Fine. But how are we supposed to convince anyone we're dating if we can't even hold hands?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it.

He had a point. I hated that he had a point.

"Fine," I said reluctantly. "Hand-holding, hugging, whatever else is necessary when people are watching. But only when necessary."

"Only when necessary," he repeated, nodding solemnly.

"And don't make that face."

"What face?"

"That irritating face you're making right now."

He grinned. "I can't help being handsome."

"You can help being delusional."

He laughed and stood. "Stay here. I'll get us something to drink."

I watched him disappear into the crowd, wondering how my evening had turned into a negotiation about pretending to love the one person I could barely tolerate.

But at least I had a plan. Maybe Ryan would finally notice me. Maybe Olivia would start seeing Caleb differently. And maybe, just maybe, this ridiculous arrangement would work.

I was still turning it over when three girls stopped in front of me.

"Well, well, well," one of them said, looking me up and down. "Look who found herself another guy."

I recognized them from campus. They were the kind of girls who seemed to enjoy making other people miserable.

"And not just any guy," another added. "Ryan's best friend."

The third laughed. "Didn't you spend years chasing Ryan? Now you're going after his best friend? How desperate can you be?"

My fingers tightened around my phone. "I'm not chasing anyone."

"Really?" The first girl smirked. "Then what would you call it?"

"None of your business."

Her smile vanished. "Don't act so proud. You're just like your mother. No wonder your father left her."

My breath caught.

She stepped closer, her voice dripping with cruelty. "Maybe she was a whore, and you took after her. The whole family must be disgusting."

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

They could call me desperate or pathetic or whatever they liked. I could survive that. But my mother?

My mother had done nothing wrong. She had loved my father, and when he divorced her and left us for another woman, she had raised me alone. She had worked tirelessly, sacrificed more than I would ever know, and never once made me feel like a burden.

She was the strongest woman I knew.

And they had no right to speak about her like that.

"Don't you dare talk about my mother," I whispered.

They exchanged amused looks. Then they walked away, laughing, as if they hadn't just broken something inside me.

I sat frozen on the bench, fighting the tears burning behind my eyes. Across the field, the fire crackled and the music carried on, cheerful and unbearable.

A few minutes later, Caleb returned with two drinks.

"Hey, I got the—"

He stopped when he saw my face. "Chloe? What's wrong?"

I shook my head. "Nothing."

"Don't give me that. What happened?"

I stood and wiped my cheeks before he could see the tears. "Take me home."

He looked toward the fire, then back at me. "We just got here."

"I know. I want to go home."

Something in my voice must have convinced him not to argue. He set the drinks aside.

"Okay," he said quietly. "Let's go."

He didn't ask another question as we walked to his car.

But just before I climbed inside, I heard him say, "Chloe?"

I turned.

His expression was different now. No teasing. No stupid grin.

"Whoever hurt you tonight," he said, "they had no right."

I looked away before he could see how close I was to crying again.

For once, I had nothing cruel to say back.

And somehow, that frightened me more than anything else that had happened that night.