It was a Wednesday when everything fell apart.
The day started out like most of them had lately — with Rodrick practically floating through the halls, earbuds in, still grinning like a dope from the night before. He and Y/N had stayed up talking on the phone until 2 a.m., sharing dumb secrets and weird dreams.
She had told him she didn't let people in easily.
Rodrick had promised he wasn't like "people."
Now, he wasn't so sure he could keep that promise.
He didn't expect David to screw it up. But that's the thing with stupid teenage boys — they always screw it up eventually.
⸻
"Dude," David laughed loudly in the locker room, tossing his gym shirt onto the bench. "You remember when we paid you to go out with her? What was it — sixty bucks?"
Rodrick's stomach dropped.
"Best sixty we ever spent," Drew said from across the room. "She's, like, a whole person now."
Rodrick's eyes darted around the locker room, heart pounding. "Shut up," he muttered.
David smirked, not picking up on the warning tone. "What? You should be proud. You were, like, the makeover montage from a teen movie — but in reverse. We didn't fix you, we fixed her."
Rodrick shoved his locker shut so hard it echoed.
"Seriously," he snapped. "Shut the hell up."
Too late.
Because standing just outside the locker room door, holding a forgotten sketchbook in her hands, was Y/N.
She had come to return it to him.
And she had heard everything.
⸻
He caught up with her near the school's back exit.
"Y/N — wait! Please, let me explain."
She didn't turn around.
"Y/N, please."
She finally stopped walking. Turned. Looked at him.
Her face wasn't angry.
It was blank.
Which was worse.
"You got paid to date me?" she asked, voice quiet.
Rodrick opened his mouth. Closed it. "At first," he said finally. "It was just supposed to be one date. A joke. I didn't know you, and I didn't think it would matter."
"But it did," he rushed. "I got to know you. I liked you — I like you. I haven't taken a dime from them since the first week. I swear."
Her mouth curved, but not in a smile.
"You think that makes it better?"
"No — I mean—"
"I thought you liked me because of me, Rodrick. Not because your loser friends wanted to pull a pity stunt."
"It wasn't like that—"
"Yes," she said, more forcefully. "It was. I was some loner you could turn into a dare. You didn't see me as a person."
Rodrick stepped closer. "I do now."
"Too late."
That hit him like a punch to the gut.
"Y/N—"
"You let me fall for something that was fake from the start."
Her voice cracked. She hated that it cracked. It only made everything feel realer. Uglier.
