Playing Real
285 Words
The next morning, Crestwood High exploded with rumors.
Cassandra Lane.
Randy Allen.
Together.
It didn’t make sense.
She was discipline.
He was disruption.
She avoided attention.
He attracted it.
And yet—
There they were.
Walking side by side.
Her hand in his.
His gaze scanning the world like he dared anyone to question it.
“You’re holding too tight,” Cassandra muttered under her breath.
“So it looks real,” Randy replied.
“I don’t care if it looks real.”
“I do.”
She shot him a glare.
“Why?”
A beat.
Then—
“Because people are watching.”
That answer unsettled her.
Because it wasn’t about appearances.
It was about something else.
Something hidden.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
And the line between fake and real began to blur.
Late afternoons turned into shared silences.
Arguments felt less like acting and more like truth.
And sometimes—
When Randy looked at her—
It didn’t feel forced at all.
“Why me?” Cassandra asked one evening.
They sat on the rooftop, the city stretching endlessly below them.
Randy didn’t answer immediately.
“You were already in the middle of it,” he said finally.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
She waited.
But he didn’t say more.
That was the problem with Randy Allen.
He always said just enough.
Never everything.
But Cassandra noticed things.
The way his guard dropped when he thought no one was looking.
The way his jaw tightened when certain names came up.
The way his eyes darkened whenever she mentioned her father.
He wasn’t just hiding information.
He was carrying it.
And that scared her more than anything.
- Writer
