He Kissed Me Before Finals

CHAPTER FIVE-RUMORS AND RED FLAGS

Monday morning came with a headache and a surprise.

Someone had plastered flyers all over campus—bright red posters with a photo of Liam and me under the words:

"Hartfield's Hottest Couple: Real or Just for Show?"

I froze in front of one near the cafeteria. My phone buzzed nonstop—DMs, tags, and story mentions. Everyone wanted to know if the rumors were true.

I wanted to scream.

Then I saw Liam, leaning against a vending machine like he owned the place, scrolling through his phone with that trademark smirk.

"You think this is funny?" I demanded, waving one of the flyers.

He looked up, amused. "A little."

"People think I'm some publicity stunt! That I'm doing this for attention."

He pocketed his phone, stepping closer. "You're mad because they're wrong... or because they might be right?"

"Don't start."

"Relax," he said softly. "Rumors fade."

"Not when they're printed on paper, they don't!"

He tilted his head. "Then we'll give them something new to talk about."

Before I could ask what he meant, he took my hand—right there in front of everyone—and laced his fingers through mine.

Click.

Phones everywhere.

I yanked my hand back, glaring. "You don't get to decide what I'm comfortable with, Liam."

His smirk faltered, just slightly. "You wanted to make it look real, remember?"

"I said fake dating, not public performance."

"Same thing to them," he muttered, and for the first time, I saw something flicker in his eyes—something tired, almost sad.

⸻

Later that day, I found out the flyers hadn't come from random fans.

They'd been printed by someone from The Hartfield Herald, the campus newspaper.

And the journalist behind it?

Savannah Lane—Liam's ex.

⸻

By lunch, Savannah had cornered me near the student lounge, her smile sweet and sharp like glass.

"So you're the new one," she said.

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

She flipped her hair. "Liam's new charity project. Let me guess—he promised to 'make it real'?"

I frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't." She stepped closer. "Just a warning—Liam doesn't do relationships. He does distractions. You're the latest."

Then she leaned in and whispered, "Don't get too comfortable."

And just like that, she walked away, leaving her perfume and poison behind.

⸻

That night, I confronted Liam at the soccer field.

He was practicing alone, the floodlights painting silver across his skin.

"Why didn't you tell me Savannah works for the campus paper?"

He stopped mid-kick, turning slowly. "Because it didn't matter."

"It matters if she's the one spreading rumors!"

He sighed, tossing the ball aside. "Savannah doesn't spread rumors. She spreads revenge."

My chest tightened. "What happened between you two?"

He ran a hand through his hair, looking suddenly older, heavier.

"She used to be my girlfriend," he said quietly. "Until she found out who my family was."

"Who is your family?"

He hesitated—then looked me dead in the eyes.

"My father isn't just rich, Lucy. He runs things. Powerful things."

"What kind of things?"

"The kind that don't end up in newspapers."

I stared at him, trying to process it. "You're saying your dad's in the mafia?"

He didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

The silence said enough.

⸻

For the first time, the idea of "fake dating" didn't feel like a game anymore.

It felt dangerous.

⸻

That night, as I walked home, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

A car idled too long at the corner.

A shadow moved behind me when I turned.

When I reached my apartment, there was an envelope on my doorstep. No name. No address.

Just three words, written in black ink:

STAY AWAY FROM HIM.