If you’d told me last year that a sarcastic TikTok would completely derail my carefully curated “high school golden boy” image, I would’ve laughed. Me? Jason Cole? Thrown off by a girl with oversized hoodies and a sketchbook? Yeah, right.But here we are.And somehow, I’m the one lying awake at 1:32 in the morning, staring at the glow of my phone screen, waiting for Lila’s typing dots to appear. She’s so damn slow at texting back.Finally, a little bubble pops up:Lila: “What idea?”I grin like an idiot at the ceiling. I could tell her the truth right now. That tomorrow, in front of half the school, I’m going to kiss her like it’s the most natural thing in the world. That I’ve been thinking about it way too much. That this whole “fake dating” thing stopped being fake the second she smiled at me in the cafeteria.But that would ruin it. And Jason Cole doesn’t ruin his own punchlines.So instead, I type back:Me: “You’ll see ;)”And when she leaves me on read, I throw the phone down on
Sometimes I wish I could rewind my life to before the TikTok. Back when I was invisible. Back when my biggest problem was deciding whether to get strawberry or chocolate milk at lunch.Because now? Now I feel like I’m living inside a soap opera I never signed up for.Jason Cole has decided he’s fully committed to the bit.What bit, you ask? Oh, just the one where he pretends we’re dating. Except the line between pretending and…whatever this is…keeps getting blurrier by the second.Case in point: today at lunch.“Babe,” he said, sliding into the seat beside me with zero respect for personal space. He stole my cookie—my only dessert—before I could even protest. “You weren’t gonna finish that anyway.”I smacked his arm, but he just grinned. That cocky, maddening grin that makes me want to throw my juice box at his head and kiss him at the same time.Do not ask me to explain it. I don’t understand it either.Of course, the entire cafeteria noticed. Phones came out. Whispers spread. By the
I don’t hate him.At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Because hating someone means they matter. And Jason Cole shouldn’t matter—not to me, not to Lila, not to anyone.But then I see the way he leans on her locker like he owns it. The way he slings his arm over her shoulder as if she belongs to him. The way he calls her “babe” loud enough for the entire hallway to hear.And I realize I do hate him.Because Lila isn’t his to claim.At lunch today, I sat across from her, listening as she told me about the latest disaster in chemistry class. She waved her hands around, exaggerating the story until I laughed so hard I almost choked on my sandwich. That’s the thing about Lila—she makes the world lighter, brighter, without even trying.And then he showed up.Jason dropped his tray onto the table with the confidence of someone who assumes he’s welcome everywhere. He slid into the seat beside her—my usual seat—and snatched a cookie right off her plate before she could blink.“Thanks,
People think I don’t take anything seriously.They’re not totally wrong. Most of the time, I don’t. It’s easier to laugh things off, to make a joke before anyone realizes I care. That’s how you survive high school when everyone’s watching.But then there’s Lila.And suddenly, I’m not so sure about the whole “don’t care” thing anymore.It started as a joke. Just one sarcastic TikTok. One fake smile. One arm around her shoulders while I pretended she was mine.Except now… I don’t really have to pretend.Like today in class, when I called her “babe.” I expected her to roll her eyes, maybe threaten to stab me with a pencil. She did roll her eyes, but then her cheeks went pink.And I swear, for a second, she actually looked like she liked it.That tiny reaction messed with me more than I care to admit.The thing is, Lila isn’t like the girls who usually chase after me. She doesn’t bat her lashes, doesn’t laugh at every dumb thing I say. Half the time, she looks at me like she’s debating wh
There should be a warning label on Jason Cole:Caution. May cause excessive heart palpitations, eye rolls, and complete emotional whiplash.Because that’s exactly what the past twenty-four hours have been.When I walked into school this morning, I had a plan. A simple one.Step one: avoid Jason.Step two: avoid Alex.Step three: survive until 3 p.m. without becoming the star of another TikTok rumor.But plans and I? We don’t exactly get along.By second period, Jason had already found me, sliding into the desk beside mine with his signature grin.“Hey, babe,” he whispered.“Don’t call me that,” I hissed back, cheeks warming.He leaned closer. “Why not? You look cute when you’re mad.”Cue: my brain short-circuiting.Here’s the thing—I don’t even like Jason’s stupid pet names. They’re annoying. Obnoxious. The kind of thing that should make me want to strangle him.But now, every time he says them, I feel this tiny, traitorous flutter in my chest.And I hate it.Because once upon a time,
I used to think high school drama was exaggerated in movies. You know, the love triangles, the fake-dating tropes, the locker-room confessions?Yeah. Turns out it’s not exaggerated. It’s my actual life.And I hate it.Except for the parts I… don’t hate.Ever since the motorcycle ride, my brain has been a tangled mess.It’s one thing to pretend Jason Cole is my boyfriend for the sake of a TikTok joke gone wild. It’s another thing entirely to wrap my arms around him and feel the way his heartbeat slammed against my back like it was trying to tell me something.I keep replaying it, over and over—the way his laughter carried in the wind, the way his hand tightened on the throttle like he was trying to impress me, the way I felt… safe. With him.And that’s the most dangerous part.Because I don’t want to feel safe with Jason. I don’t want to feel anything.At lunch, Alex sat across from me, his tray neatly lined, his smile calm and steady.“So,” he said, “you and Jason seem… close lately.”