The School Heartthrob Used Me for a Bet

Hal Chilton replied the second my message went through: [It's a deal. No backing out.]

It was followed by a head-pat emoji.

Half an hour ago, I probably would have stared at his message for a long time. Now, it only made my stomach churn.

Behind the door, the group was still laughing and chatting.

"Hal, she hasn't actually fallen for you, has she?"

"Do you even need to ask? Hal's been bringing her breakfast for three months. The way she looks at him now, she's practically melting."

Someone whispered, "I heard she's got some kind of social disorder. When she finds out the truth in front of everyone tomorrow, she's not going to have a breakdown right there, is she?"

After a brief silence, Hal spoke up casually, "It's not that serious. Besides, it's just a joke. If she really can't handle it, I'll sweet-talk her a little and she'll be fine."

Everyone burst out laughing.

I stood at the corner of the stairwell, the edge of my phone digging painfully into my palm.

So it had all been a joke. Him stopping the bullies for me. Him walking me to the nurse's office. Him saying he'd like me no matter what I looked like.

No wonder he always showed up just in time whenever I was cornered. No wonder the people bullying me, who were clearly afraid of him, never really backed off.

They'd been in it together from the very start.

And I was just the stakes in a bet they'd made to kill time before graduation.

I didn't turn and head downstairs until I heard footsteps coming closer.

Hal's voice came from behind me. "Gina?"

I stopped.

He hurried after me, still carrying the smell of cigarette smoke from the equipment room. "What are you doing here?"

Hal studied me for a few seconds, his gaze dropping to my pale fingertips. "Was someone picking on you again?"

He frowned with practiced ease, just like every other time he'd protected me. "Tell me. I'll get even with them for you."

I looked at him through my mask.

He was such a good actor.

The concern in his eyes, the gentleness in his voice, even the way he reached out to straighten my collar. There wasn't a single crack in the performance.

I gave a small shake of my head. "No. I came to get the program for the graduation gala."

He visibly relaxed. "Good."

Then he pressed a warm vanilla latte into my hand. "Light on the syrup, no whipped cream. Didn't you say sweet drinks make you nervous?"

I looked down at the familiar label.

I used to think this meant he remembered my habits.

Now I understood. When a hunter wants its prey to relax, of course it pays closer attention than anyone.

Hal walked me out of the school building, then suddenly asked, "Are you ready for tomorrow night?"

I deliberately stayed quiet for a moment.

As if afraid I'd back out, he quickly added, "Don't be scared. When the time comes, just look at me. Whatever anyone says after you take off your mask, I'll be right there by your side."

I looked up at him. "Really?"

"Of course." He smiled and gave the top of my head a light pat. "When have I ever lied to you?"

All the way home, his words kept echoing in my head.

My phone suddenly buzzed. It was a message from my therapist, Dr. Ariel Taylor: [If you're afraid of being stared at tomorrow, we can call it off.]

Three years ago, an accident had left me with severe post-traumatic social anxiety.

What I feared had never been my own looks. It was the way other people's eyes landed on my face.

The awe, the scrutiny, the secret photos, the gossip. All of it made it hard to breathe and left my limbs stiff.

That was why I hid behind a mask.

But in everyone else's eyes, not daring to show your face meant you had to be ugly.

I had once wanted to overcome my fear for Hal's sake.

Now, there was no need.

I replied to Dr. Taylor: [Don't cancel. I'm still taking it off.]