NATASHA'S POV
I woke up to the sound of my phone vibrating.
Still half asleep, I reached for it on my bedside table and squinted at the screen.
Alex: Good morning, fake girlfriend.
I stared at the message.
Who texted someone this early in the morning just to be annoying?
Alex. Obviously.
I typed my reply without even getting out of bed.
Me: Do you ever sleep?
His reply came almost immediately.
Alex: Not when I have such an uncooperative girlfriend.
Me: Fake girlfriend.
Alex: Keep correcting me. It's cute.
I sat up straight.
Cute?
Did he just call me cute?
Before I could come up with a sufficiently insulting response, another message appeared.
Alex: Did you sleep well?
I stared at it for a moment.
That was… unexpectedly normal.
Me: Yes. Why?
Alex: Just asking.
Me: Are you sick?
Alex: Good morning to you too, Natasha.
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
Alone in my bedroom.
I immediately stopped.
"Oh, this is bad."
I threw my phone onto the bed and got ready for university before I could embarrass myself any further.
Because apparently, my fake boyfriend had developed a habit of making me smile at my phone.
And I needed that habit to stop.
Immediately.
---
By the time I reached university, I'd convinced myself that I was perfectly normal.
I was not thinking about Alex.
I was not waiting to see him.
And I certainly wasn't looking around the campus for his stupid face.
Unfortunately, Lisa knew me too well.
"You're searching for someone."
I nearly choked on my coffee.
"What?"
She pointed at me.
"That. The way you're looking around."
"I'm looking for our classroom!"
"Our classroom is in the opposite direction."
I slowly turned my head.
The classroom was, indeed, in the opposite direction.
Lisa burst out laughing.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"Unfortunately."
She linked her arm through mine and dragged me toward the building.
And that's when I saw Alex.
He was standing near the staircase with his friends, looking unfairly good for someone who spent most of his time irritating me.
He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and his hair looked as though he'd run his fingers through it a dozen times.
He was laughing at something one of his friends had said.
Then he noticed me.
His smile changed.
Not disappeared.
Changed.
It became smaller, softer, and somehow more personal.
He lifted his hand in greeting.
I looked away immediately.
Lisa made a strange noise beside me.
"Interesting."
"Don't."
"I haven't said anything."
"Your face has."
She laughed.
We were almost at the staircase when a boy approached us.
"Hey, Natasha."
I turned around.
It was Rohan, a guy from one of my classes.
"Hi."
He smiled.
"I wanted to ask you something. Are you free this Friday?"
"Why?"
"A few of us are planning to grab coffee after class. I thought you might want to join."
"Oh."
I wasn't particularly close to Rohan, but he seemed nice enough.
"Sure. That sounds—"
"She's busy."
I froze.
Lisa's eyes widened.
Rohan looked over my shoulder.
And I didn't need to turn around to know who had just interrupted us.
Alex.
I slowly faced him.
"Excuse me?"
He slipped his hands into his pockets.
"What?"
"I can answer for myself."
"Of course you can."
"Then why did you answer for me?"
He tilted his head toward Rohan.
"Because you looked confused."
"I was thinking!"
"Take your time, then."
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Rohan awkwardly cleared his throat.
"Well, let me know, Natasha."
He walked away.
I turned toward Alex.
"What was that?"
"What was what?"
"Don't do that!"
He raised an eyebrow.
"Do what?"
"Act like you have some kind of authority over me!"
His expression changed slightly.
For a moment, I thought he might argue.
Instead, he glanced in the direction Rohan had disappeared.
"Do you like him?"
I blinked.
"What?"
"Rohan. Do you like him?"
I stared at him in disbelief.
"Why?"
He shrugged.
"Just asking."
I narrowed my eyes.
"Oh, really? Is this how you felt when I asked about that girl yesterday?"
His lips twitched.
"So you admit you were jealous yesterday?"
"THAT IS NOT WHAT I SAID!"
He laughed.
And I hated how much I wanted to laugh with him.
"Relax, Natasha. I'm just curious."
"Well, stop being curious."
I turned around and marched toward the classroom.
He followed.
Of course he followed.
"You're very bossy for someone who's supposed to be fake dating me," I muttered.
"And you're very defensive for someone who claims not to care."
I stopped walking.
He nearly bumped into me.
I turned around slowly.
"Alex."
"Natasha."
"Keep talking, and I'll find another fake boyfriend."
His smile faded for half a second.
Then he leaned closer.
"Good luck finding someone willing to put up with you."
I shoved his shoulder lightly.
"You're the worst."
He laughed.
But as I walked away, I couldn't help noticing something.
For all his teasing, he hadn't answered my question.
Why had he interrupted Rohan?
And why had he looked so annoyed when I agreed to the coffee invitation?
---
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of lectures and Alex being an absolute menace.
He stole my pen.
He sent me ridiculous messages during class.
At one point, he slid a folded piece of paper onto my desk.
I opened it beneath the table.
Stop ignoring me.
I wrote back.
Stop distracting me.
A minute later, another note appeared.
You smiled at your phone this morning.
I stared at him.
He was sitting two seats away, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
I scribbled my reply.
You need professional help.
His answer came almost immediately.
Will you come with me?
I pressed my lips together to stop myself from laughing.
The professor suddenly called my name.
"Natasha? Would you like to share what's so amusing with the rest of the class?"
My entire face heated up.
"No, sir. Sorry."
A few students chuckled.
I shot Alex a murderous look.
He lowered his head, pretending to concentrate on his notebook.
But I could see his shoulders shaking.
I was going to murder him.
Fake relationship or not.
---
After class, I was putting my books into my bag when Peter appeared in front of me.
"Natasha."
My hands stopped moving.
For a moment, the surrounding noise seemed to fade.
I hadn't spoken to him properly since everything happened.
Since Lisa.
Since the rumors.
Since the day I realized that the person I'd spent so long loving could hurt me without even understanding how much it meant to me.
"What do you want, Peter?"
He looked tired.
"I want to talk."
"We've talked."
"Not properly."
I laughed without humor.
"And whose fault is that?"
He lowered his eyes.
"Mine."
That answer surprised me.
Peter had never been particularly good at admitting when he was wrong.
I adjusted the strap of my bag.
"Fine. Talk."
He glanced around the crowded corridor.
"Can we go somewhere private?"
I hesitated.
Then I nodded.
We walked toward a quieter area outside the library.
I kept a little distance between us.
Peter noticed, but he didn't comment.
Instead, he looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite understand.
"I miss you."
I looked away.
"Peter—"
"Please, just let me finish."
I folded my arms.
He took a breath.
"I know I hurt you. I know I made mistakes. But what happened between us wasn't meaningless to me."
I stared at him.
"Then why did you make me feel like I was?"
He went quiet.
For once, he didn't have an immediate answer.
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"You know what the worst part was? It wasn't even the rumors. It was realizing that I kept making excuses for you. Every time you disappointed me, I found another reason to forgive you."
"Natasha, I—"
"I kept thinking that if I waited long enough, you'd finally choose me without making me feel like I was asking for too much."
My voice shook slightly.
I hated that.
I hated that he could still make me feel like that.
Peter looked genuinely remorseful.
"I'm sorry."
I believed that he might be sorry.
But I wasn't sure it changed anything.
"I don't know what you want me to say."
"I want another chance."
I looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because I still care about you."
I let out a slow breath.
"And what happens if I give you another chance? How do I know we're not going to end up right here again?"
He looked down.
"I can't promise I'll never make mistakes. But I can promise I'll try."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he asked the question I hadn't been prepared for.
"Do you really like Alex?"
My heart stumbled.
I looked at him sharply.
"What?"
"Alex. Your boyfriend."
"That's none of your business."
Peter studied my face.
"Is he really your boyfriend?"
I felt my stomach tighten.
Of course he'd ask that.
The entire relationship had started because I wanted to make Peter jealous, while Alex wanted to get over Lara.
We'd agreed to rules.
No unnecessary touching.
No cute names.
No making it real.
And absolutely no falling for each other.
Yet somehow, I was standing here, unable to answer a question that should have been easy.
Peter stepped closer.
"Natasha, look at me."
I did.
"Are you with him because you like him, or because you want me to regret losing you?"
His words stung because I knew the answer wasn't as simple as it used to be.
"I don't owe you an explanation."
I turned to leave.
"Natasha, wait."
But I kept walking.
I needed air.
I needed space.
And most importantly, I needed to stop thinking about Alex.
---
"Hey."
I looked up.
Alex was standing near the library entrance.
His expression was unreadable.
"Hey," I replied quietly.
He glanced behind me.
"Did he upset you?"
I stiffened.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough to see that you weren't happy."
I looked away.
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Neither does yours."
I almost smiled despite myself.
Almost.
Alex stepped closer.
"What did he say?"
"Nothing important."
"Natasha."
Something about the way he said my name made me look at him.
He wasn't teasing.
He wasn't smiling.
He was genuinely concerned.
And that somehow made everything worse.
"I can handle Peter," I told him.
"I know."
"Then why do you keep asking?"
He hesitated.
For a second, he seemed to be searching for the right words.
"Because I don't like seeing you upset."
My heart gave an uncomfortable little twist.
I looked down at my hands.
"Why?"
He was quiet.
Then he answered.
"I don't know, Natasha. Maybe that's the problem."
I looked up.
Our eyes met.
There was something in his expression that I'd never seen before.
Something uncertain.
Something almost vulnerable.
For once, I couldn't come up with a sarcastic response.
Neither could he.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
The change in his expression was immediate.
"Lara?"
I didn't mean to listen.
I really didn't.
But I heard her name.
And then I watched Alex answer the call.
His voice softened.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for me to notice.
He listened for a moment before replying.
" Okay , fine , this is your last chance to talk it out with me "
I looked away.
I had no right to feel uncomfortable.
Lara was the reason Alex had wanted this arrangement in the first place.
He'd wanted to make her jealous.
I'd wanted to make Peter jealous.
We were using each other.
That was the deal.
So why did I suddenly hate hearing him talk to her?
"I'll see you there," he said before ending the call.
He slipped his phone into his pocket.
"Sorry. I need to go."
I nodded.
"Okay."
He studied my face.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yes, Alex. I'm fine."
He didn't look convinced.
But he didn't push me.
"Text me when you get home."
I stared at him.
"Why?"
He gave me a small smile.
"Because I said so."
"Bossy."
"Always."
He started walking away.
And I watched him go.
Just for a second.
Maybe two.
Then I forced myself to turn around.
This was ridiculous.
I wasn't jealous.
I wasn't upset.
And I definitely wasn't disappointed that he'd chosen to leave with Lara instead of staying with me.
I repeated those words all the way home.
They didn't become any more convincing.
---
That evening, Lisa came over to room with snacks and the expression of someone who had discovered a major scandal.
I opened the door.
"What?"
She walked inside.
"I have information."
"That sounds dangerous."
"It is."
I closed the door and followed her to the bed.
She sat down, crossed her legs, and looked at me seriously.
"I saw Alex today."
I stared at her.
"You go to the same university."
"Let me finish!"
I sighed.
"Fine."
"He was with Lara."
I looked down at my phone.
"Oh."
Lisa blinked.
"That's it?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"I don't know. Maybe something involving screaming into a pillow?"
I threw a cushion at her.
She caught it, laughing.
"Natasha, I'm serious."
"So am I. Alex can talk to whoever he wants."
"Of course he can."
"Good."
"Because you're not jealous."
"Exactly."
"And you definitely don't care about him."
"Correct."
Lisa nodded thoughtfully.
"Then you'll have absolutely no problem if they get back together."
My head snapped up.
"Why would you say that?"
Her eyebrows rose.
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
Nothing came out.
Lisa's expression softened.
"Oh, Natasha."
"Don't."
"You like him."
"I do not."
"You do."
"I DON'T!"
She raised both hands.
"Okay! You don't."
I grabbed another cushion and hugged it against my chest.
She watched me for a moment before speaking again.
"Listen, I'm not saying you're in love with him. I'm saying something is changing, and pretending it isn't happening won't make it go away."
I stared at the floor.
What if she was right?
What if I was beginning to care about Alex in a way that had nothing to do with Peter?
What if the boy I'd chosen to make someone else jealous was becoming the person whose attention I actually wanted?
I shook my head.
"No."
Lisa didn't argue.
She simply squeezed my hand.
"Just be careful, okay? Because fake relationships can get complicated when real feelings show up."
After she left, I sat alone in my room.
My phone remained silent.
No teasing messages.
No ridiculous questions.
No goodnight text.
I told myself I didn't care.
Then, at 10:47 p.m., my phone finally buzzed.
Alex: Are you awake?
I stared at the message.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Me: Unfortunately.
Alex: Good.
Me: Why?
The typing indicator appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then his message arrived.
Alex: I wanted to talk to you.
I sat up straighter.
Me: About what?
A few seconds passed.
Alex: Nothing important.
I frowned.
Me: Then why did you text me?
His reply came quickly.
Alex: Can't I talk to my girlfriend?
I stared at the screen.
Me: Fake girlfriend.
This time, he didn't reply immediately.
When his message finally appeared, it was different from the ones he usually sent.
Alex: Right. I almost forgot.
I read it twice.
There was no teasing.
No playful emoji.
Nothing.
And for some reason, that hurt more than it should have.
I typed a reply, deleted it, and tried again.
Me: Are you okay?
He answered a minute later.
Alex: Yeah. Goodnight, Natasha.
I stared at those words for a long time.
Then I placed my phone beside me and lay back against the pillows.
I didn't understand why I suddenly wanted to call him.
I didn't understand why I wanted him to tease me again, to annoy me, to tell me something ridiculous that would make me smile.
I didn't understand why the thought of him getting back together with Lara made my chest feel so heavy.
All I knew was that I missed him.
Even though we'd spoken only a few hours ago.
Even though I had absolutely no right to miss him.
I closed my eyes.
"This is fake," I whispered to myself.
Our relationship was fake.
Our dates were fake.
Our cute messages were supposed to be fake.
So why did his silence feel so real?
And why was I suddenly terrified that one day Alex would look at me and realize that he no longer needed this arrangement?
Because if that day came…
I wasn't sure I'd be ready to let him go.