All Chapters of My Fake Boyfriend Is My Biggest Rival: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Luca parked beside the recreation ground on Wednesday evening, in the row of spaces facing the empty tennis courts. I had suggested somewhere we wouldn't have to lower our voices when a parent came downstairs. Now the place was quiet enough that I could hear his key scrape against the metal ring after he switched off the engine. Neither of us moved immediately. Across the fence, somebody had left a sweatshirt on the end of a bench, one sleeve hanging almost to the gravel. I watched it shift in the wind while Luca asked whether I wanted to walk.We chose the longer path without discussing it. The ground was damp, so he stepped around the muddy edge and waited for me to catch up. His knee seemed comfortable, although I resisted asking every time the path sloped. There had been a time when I could irritate him just by walking faster and pretending I wasn't competing. That evening, keeping pace took more effort than passing him would have. I had spent the afternoon rehearsing a beginning

By Saturday, I had developed a system for checking whether Luca had contacted me without admitting that was what I was doing. I opened my messages to look for Priya, checked the school group, then scrolled far enough to see his name before returning to whatever I had been pretending to need. The system took more time than simply missing him. I caught myself doing it while my mother waited for an answer about breakfast and put the phone in a drawer. She looked at the drawer, then at me, but was sensible enough to keep her opinion to herself.The fellowship committee had sent a short preparation exercise for the final interview. Applicants had to suggest a small research project, describe how they would gather information and explain one reason their results might be unreliable. I had spent two evenings choosing a subject that sounded impressive enough, which meant I had written three titles and no useful questions. That morning I took the instructions to the kitchen table, beside a pla

The school's email asked me to attend a meeting during the study period and to bring any messages connected to the recording. I read it at the breakfast table while my mother searched for the lid of a container. She asked whether I wanted her there. I said I could handle it, then corrected myself before pride turned a practical question into an argument. I wanted her to know what was happening, and I wanted the meeting to start with my account rather than somebody speaking for me. She found the lid inside the container and said she would keep her phone nearby.The deputy head had placed three chairs around a small table in her office. A student welfare officer sat beside a laptop, taking notes with the screen angled away from me. They explained who would read the account and said I could pause if I needed to. I appreciated the explanation even while resenting that I had learned so much about procedures I had never expected to need. My bag remained on my lap until the deputy head asked

The hotel kettle produced water that tasted faintly of its previous occupants, but I drank the tea because refusing it would not give me a better morning. My mother sat on the edge of the other bed checking the journey to the university, although we had walked the route the night before. We had chosen the overnight stay after comparing prices and deciding that exhaustion was an expense too, even if it didn't appear on the booking page. My interview folder lay open beside my shoes. I had checked its contents often enough to recognise the order by colour.On the way across campus, I tried to explain my project to my mother one last time. She interrupted to ask whether I wanted her to listen or pretend to be the committee. I said, 'Listen,' then became irritated when she didn't ask a question. She gave me a look that was entirely deserved. I apologised before we reached the next crossing. The nervousness had found someone safe to be unpleasant to, and I didn't want her carrying it into t

Priya received her interview invitation during a lesson and managed to keep her face still until the teacher turned towards the board. Then she kicked my shoe beneath the table hard enough that I dropped my pen. I glared at her. She slid the screen into view, grinning so widely that I forgave the assault before I finished reading. The media placement wanted to meet her on Friday and discuss the sample she had submitted. I wrote congratulations in the margin of my notes, then added that my foot expected compensation. She drew a very poor picture of a biscuit beside it.At lunch, she admitted the interview included a short presentation about a local story she would like to report. She had chosen the closure of a study room at the public library, partly because students had complained and partly because nobody seemed sure why it had closed. I immediately suggested the transport project, imagining our work fitting together neatly. Priya said she had already chosen her angle. The correctio