Fake it Till You Love Me

2.

VIENNE'S POV

Upon getting into my car, I realized how loud the silence had become.

The courtyard whispers still echoed in my ears, a cruel loop of laughter and gasps that refused to fade. I slid into the driver’s seat of my sleek white Audi RS3 saloon, a birthday gift from my parents. I clocked 18 a month back

I gripped the leather steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. The engine purred to life, smooth, in contrast to the storm inside my chest.

Ryan’s words replayed on repeat.

It’s over.

Amelia’s smirk burned behind my eyes. The entire senior class had watched me unravel like a cheap thread. Perfect Vienne Reyes, reduced to a spectacle on the first day of the year I had planned so meticulously.

I drove without thinking, the city lights blurring past the tinted windows. My parents’ mansion waited, empty though.

My eyes caught my reflection in the mirror, smudged mascara, puffy, red eyes. I had let my tears fall right after starting the car; Ryan can't do this to me. How could he make me the object of mockery right there? And I don't want to believe this is over, hence, I brought out my cellphone typing in his DM.

‘Ryan, we can make this work.’

‘You can't do this to me. Not Amelia please’

‘Please reply to my messages.’

‘I'll do anything Ryan. I'll fix my attitude. I can go for a cosmetic surgery, okay?

‘just tell me what to do’

I frantically texted, but I got no reply for my obviously delivered and read messages. In agitation, I slipped off my blazer, leaving me only in my black basic top and school skirt.

Minutes passed before my fingers tightened on the wheel as I turned toward downtown. Roaming the city till it was almost dark.

I finally settled for a club.

I slipped past the bouncer easily, finding my way inside. I was an adult already.

The bass thrummed through my bones, vibrating up my legs and spine. Neon lights slashed across the crowded dance floor, electric blue, hot pink, blinding white, turning faces into masks and bodies into shadows.

I ordered the first drink without hesitation. Something sweet and strong that burned going down.

Then I took the second.

The third made the world tilt just enough to feel good.

For the first time all day, Ryan’s flat voice and Amelia’s poisoned honey words faded beneath the heavy beat. I moved to the center of the floor as my straight brunette stuck to my body; brown eyes half-closed. My uniform blazer was long forgotten in the car. The silk camisole beneath clung to my skin, average height making me feel small among the taller, bolder bodies around.

I danced in hopes of sweating out the betrayal. Arms above my head, hips swaying, the sting of humiliation dispersed into something reckless. My pulse matched the bass; frantic, alive, angry.

‘Too much’ Ryan had said. ‘Always planning every little thing.’

I laughed humorlessly at myself.

I had planned everything. Study dates that turned romantic. Cheering until my throat hurt at his games, telling myself senior year would fix it. All those color-coded notes, all those nights making sure our futures aligned.

And he had chosen Amelia. Of all people.

The flashback hit me like another shot of vodka.

It started last two years, Amelia couldn't help her huge crush on Alex Monroe. She'd begged me to set them up in hopes of getting together with her favourite boy in school; alas! Her hopes came crashing down when the boy had shamelessly asked me out instead, right in her presence. Amelia had angrily accused me of stealing the spotlight, of flirting with Alex behind her back; of being a thief.

The shout had exploded close to the school's entrance, Amelia had screamed “You stole him, Vienne! One day, I'm going to take it all away from you too.”

Then, I had even blindly apologized the next day. I tried to fix it the way I could, but Amelia was having none of it. She was done with me and the friendship had died.

Now she had taken Ryan, her ultimate payback.

Her face flashed before my eyes once more; the image of her throwing me that taunting, malicious smirk. With her thin lips…

‘you’d be more pretty if you had thinner lips'.

Perhaps that's where it's coming from.

He had indirectly compared me to her.

I downed another drink at the bar, the glass cool against my burning palm. The room spun gently, neon lights smearing into streaks of color. My legs felt loose; my thoughts, fuzzy at the edges. Good. Fuzzy was better than sharp pain.

I stumbled back onto the dance floor, the crowd practically swallowing me. Someone bumped my shoulder.

I laughed, too loud, unnecessarily. The world narrowed to the beat and the burn in my throat.

That was when the floor tilted harder than it should have.

My heel caught on nothing, and I pitched forward. Strong hands caught my arms before I could hit the sticky floor, steadying me with surprising gentleness.

“Easy.”

The voice cut through the noise in a low, calm, almost bored tone. Not slurred like the others around me.

I looked up, blinking against the flashing lights. Dark hair fell into piercing green eyes. Tall, athletic build with broad shoulders.

Damon Calloway.

The scholarship kid from Minerva High who kept to himself, brooding in the corners of the library or dominating the court in silence. I had seen him around; quiet, calculating, never part of the elite crowd.

He wasn’t smiling. His grip on my arms was firm but careful, like he was handling something fragile.

“I… I’m fine,” I mumbled, words thicker than I had expected, even though he never asked. The club spun again. I leaned into him instinctively, the scent of simple soap and faint cologne cutting through the mix of perfume and sweat.

“You’re not,” he said bluntly. No judgment, just fact. “Come on out”

He guided me through the crowd, one arm around my waist to keep me steady. My head lolled against his shoulder. His jacket was plain but clean; he draped it over my shoulders at some point, warm from his body.

Vaguely, I heard him pick a call and mention something about meeting someone here. A modeling contact maybe.

Outside, the night air hit me like a slap. Cars hummed past, distant sirens wailing like they understood my pain.

Damon eased me onto a bench near the entrance, crouching in front of me. His blue eyes studied my face, calculating. “You go to Minerva. Reyes, right?”

I nodded, the motion making my head throb annoyingly. “Vienne. And you… you helped me. Why?”

He shrugged, nonchalant. “It looked like you needed it. Not my business why you’re here drowning in whatever happened.”

The tears that pricked my eyes were the first real ones since the courtyard. I blinked them back, stubborn fire still flickering beneath the alcohol haze. “He dumped me. In front of everyone. For my ex-best friend.” my voice cracked.

He didn't ask though about that too.

Damon didn’t offer pity. Just a short nod, like he’d seen worse. “Rough.”

“Yeah. Rough.”

I could still feel his gentle presence until my breathing evened out a little, contrasting the chaotic night. No grand gestures. No empty words. Just quiet steadiness while the city bustled around us.

The last thing I remembered clearly was the flash of a phone camera somewhere in the shadows; I could care less. Anyone could have had their phone flashing in here.

Right now, in the cool night air with a stranger’s jacket warming my shoulders, the heaviness in my chest felt just a little lighter.

Oblivious to the fact that the first thing I would notice tomorrow morning was my phone exploding.

And somewhere in the back of my foggy mind, a reckless idea began to spark.