Chapter Three
765 Words
I was thirteen when my life shifted.
Thirteen when the kind of news came that knocks the air out of you. Back then, I didn’t think anything could ever compare to the storm it threw me into.
Now, four and a half years later, I wasn’t so sure.
Because right in front of me, Sam Matthew—the golden boy, the player, the walking cliché of every high school rumor—had just said something that sent my brain into chaos. Shock. Fear. Confusion. A dozen emotions I didn’t even have names for.
It had to be a joke.
So naturally, I did the most normal thing possible.
I choked on my own spit.
“What?” I coughed out between wheezes.
Sam raised an eyebrow, amused at my sudden attempt to self-destruct. He stepped closer, patting my back lightly while chuckling under his breath. I flinched at his touch, heat crawling up my skin, but his only response was another laugh.
“You think this is funny?” I snapped, finally pulling away. “What is this, prank-the-nerd day? Should I be expecting Bianca and her crew to jump out with confetti?”
His hand caught my wrist before I could leave. Warm, steady, and far too gentle for someone with his reputation.
“I’m not messing with you, Alif,” he said, voice low. “I need a fake girlfriend.”
I froze, yanking my hand back like his touch had burned me.
“Why me?” My voice was sharper than I intended, my brows pulling tight.
Sam’s jaw tightened. For a boy who always seemed so careless, his body language screamed the opposite. “It’s complicated.”
“That’s not an answer,” I shot back. “If you want me to make a personal decision like this, I deserve to know why.”
For a moment, he just stared at me, the weight of something unspoken darkening his expression. He exhaled, almost like the words themselves were knives he couldn’t bring out.
“Just think about it, okay?” he finally muttered, voice carrying a defeated edge. Without waiting for my reply, he walked off, already slipping back into his easy smile as a group of girls waved at him.
I stood frozen, staring at his retreating figure. The only thing louder than the hallway around me was the question burning through my head.
Why me?
He had girls lining up for him—Bianca included. So what did Sam Matthew need from me, of all people?
And why couldn’t I just say no?
Maybe because routine had dulled my Fridays into the same cocoa-and-TV cycle for years. Maybe because some reckless, hidden part of me craved unpredictability. Or maybe—just maybe—I was tired of saying no to people who needed me.
Before I could stop myself, my feet carried me after him.
“Sam!” I called, breathless as I caught up.
He turned, brows furrowing at my sudden persistence. And for half a second, he looked… surprised. Almost vulnerable.
I slowed to a stop in front of him. “I’ll hear you out. That’s it. Then I’ll decide.”
His lips curved—first into gratitude, then into a smirk. “Quick turnaround. What changed your mind—my good looks or my good looks?”
I rolled my eyes, pretending to think. “Neither. More like pity for how desperately you begged.”
“Ouch.” His smirk widened. “Guess you’ve got more bite than I thought.”
I crossed my arms. “If I do this, I want honesty. No secrets.”
Sam leaned closer, eyes glinting. “And what secrets would I keep from my Juliet?”
I blinked, taken aback. “I am not your Juliet.”
“You called me Romeo first,” he countered smoothly, the smirk never leaving his lips.
My face burned, but I refused to look away. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’ll only listen today—nothing more.”
“No.” His voice dropped, serious now.
My stomach sank. “Excuse me?”
“I’ll explain now,” he said firmly. “I don’t have until Monday.”
The shift in his tone unsettled me. For once, Sam Matthew wasn’t the untouchable golden boy. He was urgent. Cornered.
And despite myself, I felt that same pull I always did—the instinct to stay, to listen, even when I shouldn’t.
“One hour,” I whispered, more to myself than him.
Sam’s gaze softened. “An hour is all I need.”
- Writer
