The Price of a Pretend Boyfriend

Once again rejecting the school bully's confession.

I saw the subtitles scroll before my eyes

[OMG, this fake heiress is completely clueless.]

[She still has no idea she's not her parents' real daughter.]

[Meanwhile, her parents have already secretly brought the real heriess home from the countryside.]

["Soon, her parents' love will shift, the family fortune will be divided, and even her wealthy childhood friend has been assigned to accompany the real heiress."]

["The only person left who could possibly stand by her is this persistent school bully pursuing her right now."]

["And she's rejected him countless times."]

["This is the bully's final confession."]

["If he fails this time, he'll be heartbroken and leave the country with his family immediately."]

["Then this fake heiress will be completely alone and helpless."]

Watching the expression on the bully's face in front of me grow increasingly bleak.

Just as he was about to turn and leave

I grabbed his hand.

"Cole Harrison"

I spoke his name, the syllables feeling unfamiliar on my tongue.

The tall, lean boy in front of me froze.

The notoriously hot-tempered, arrogant rich kid everyone whispered about.

Seemed completely paralyzed by my words.

Rooted rigidly to the spot.

When he finally lifted his head, I saw the tips of his ears were flushed crimson.

I quickly withdrew my hand.

Hearing him clear his throat roughly, he said, "If it's another apology, another rejection, save it."

He spoke with his back still turned to me, "I've heard enough of those already."

Subtitles scrolled relentlessly across my vision, each word a fresh sting

["She really broke Cole's heart for real this time."]

["Let's not forget, Cole grew up being worshipped too, his family background is just as formidable as the male lead's."]

["Seriously, she's the only one who's ever dared to reject him like this."]

["She pushed away the one person who genuinely cared about her."]

["She totally deserves what's coming."]

["Is she still hung up on her childhood friend?"]

["LOL, haven't seen hide nor hair of him for days."]

["Exactly! He's busy entertaining the real heiress."]

["That childhood friend is the male lead, destined to fall for the real heiress. He'd never look twice at a fake like her."]

I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

Forcing myself to ignore the glaring subtitles, I focused on the boy's tense back.

"No," I said, my voice firmer than I expected. "It's not a rejection."

Cole stilled, but didn't turn.

"It's just that we're seniors now..." I continued, choosing my words carefully.

Before I could finish, Cole cut me off.

He turned his head slightly, eyelids lowered, looking at me coolly.

"You had already used this excuse last month."

After he spoke.

It seemed the subtitles were right, my repeated rejections had wounded him deeply.

He shifted his weight, ready to walk away.

I tightened my grip on his wrist, rushing to complete my thought.

"What I meant was, we're seniors now, about to take our college entrance exams. If we end up at different universities or even in different cities, even if we had feelings for each other we'd be stuck long-distance."

I pushed down my embarrassment and looked up at Cole earnestly. "So maybe after the exams are over, if you still"

Cole, who had been half-turned away from me, swallowed hard.

Then, before I could react.

His hand suddenly tightened around my wrist in return.

"You want me to go to the same university as you?" he asked, turning fully to face me now.

His gaze was direct, intense enough to pin me in place.

That intensity made me nervous, flustered.

I grasped for an excuse, mumbling, "I just don't want to do long-distance."

Cole's features were sharp, almost aggressive.

But after I spoke.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Oh."

He couldn't hide ita real smile broke through.

His palm was warm against my wrist.

But then he frowned, as if remembering something. "But your grades are too good. My parents decided ages ago thay want me to study abroad.And let's be realI haven't exactly been hitting the books these past few years."

A rare look of frustration crossed his face. "I might not make it into the same university as you."

His eyes locked onto mine, intense. "But you said the same city would be okay"

His raw, burning sincerity was contagious.

I nodded. "That would work too."

The moment I said it, Cole's smile widened completely.

And the subtitles in my vision exploded with disbelief

["Dude??? Seriously???"]

["I can't even handle this right now."]

["Aren't you supposed to be the big, scary bully? Since when did you become this easy?"]

["He's totally won over with just a couple sentences?"]

["Wow. Just wow."]

["Is this what peak simping looks like?"]

That evening, Cole offered to drive me home.

Remembering the understanding we'd just reached, I didn't refuse.

Cole never did anything subtly.

His usual ride to school was a rumbling Harley-Davidson.

It was my first time on such a motorcyle

As I got on, I instinctively steadied myself by placing a hand on his shoulder.

Cole's ears turned bright red again.

But when he glanced back at me, his eyes held a clear, sparkling smile.

He revved the engine loudly as we passed through the school gates.

His group of friends whistled and cheered at us.

When he dropped me off at my apartment building, he dismounted first.

Then he held out his arm like a protective barrier in front of me.

I looked up at him, confused.

He cleared his throat. "Weren't you scared?"

He added, "You can hold onto my arm to get off."

He even lowered his shoulder slightly, bringing himself closer to my eye level.

When I looked up, our gazes met directly.

It was a detail I seemed to be noticing only now.

At that moment, a seemingly irrelevant thought crossed my mindI thought, incongruously, of my childhood friend, Ethan Shaw.

Ethan was the top student in our grade, gentle and refined.

He was the golden boy in everyone's eyes.

But ever since we were kids.

When I stood in front of him, I always had to crane my neck or stand on tiptoe.

I had never once met his eyes at the same height.

Cole was reluctant to leave.

I told him to go first.

He walked backwards, his eyes never leaving me.

"Should I pick you up tomorrow morning?" he asked.

I didn't want to outright refuse. "Wouldn't that be a hassle?"

"Not at all," Cole replied instantly.

"It's on my way," he added.

I finally nodded. "Okay."

He said "Oh," then, looking satisfied, got on his motorcycle and slowly rode off.

Only when his taillights disappeared around the corner.

Did I turn to head inside.

But as I turned, I nearly collided with someone standing right behind me.

I stepped back quickly and saw Ethan Shaw leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

His gaze was cold and contemplative, fixed intently on me.

"When did you and Cole Harrison get so close that he drives you home now?" Ethan's voice was laced with unmistakable disdain.

He looked down at me, his expression deceptively calm, but every word carried the weight of an interrogation.

Subtitles flashed before my eyes, unnecessarily reminding meas if I could forgetthat Ethan had been spending all his time with the "real heiress" I hadn't even met.

I met Ethan's impassive gaze.

"And you?" I countered. "You haven't been home or at school lately. Where have you been?"

Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly.

In the past, I had always been compliant around him.

I never contradicted or refused his requests.

He seemed taken aback that I dared to question him in return.

His expression cooled. "Do I need to report my every move to you?"

I threw his own words back at him. "Then who I choose to spend time with, or who drives me home, doesn't require your approval either, does it?"

I tried to step past him.

But his hand shot out, gripping my arm tightly.

He frowned. "Vivian, what's wrong with you?"

What's wrong with me.

I turned my head calmly to look at Ethan.

He seemed genuinely confused.

"You used to hate it when I bothered you," I said. "Even when it was just because your parents asked you to, you couldn't stand humoring me."

I glanced down at his hand still wrapped around my arm.

Softly, I said his name, "Ethan Shaw, what are you doing right now?"

Ethan froze, instinctively releasing his grip.

I seized the chance.

Slipped away cleanly and headed toward the building entrance.

I could feel Ethan's presence lingering in the shadows behind me, unmoving.

I didn't look back.

Ouside my front door, even before I pushed it open.

I could hear laughter and cheerful conversationr from inside.

I paused outside, took a deep breath.

Then quietly turned the handle.

As the door swung open, the noise inside cut off abruptly.

All eyes turned toward me.

I saw my father, who was usually buried in work and rarely home, my grandparents, who lived quietly, my mother, unusually wearing an apron.

And I saw the unfamiliar girl they were all clustered around.

Her face was an eighty percent match to my mother's.

The resemblance was unmistakable.

Mom was setting a plate of freshly baked scones in front of the girl.

She even seemed ready to feed her one directly.

As far back as my memory stretched, she'd never cooked or baked even anything herself.

Our housekeeper, Mrs. Smith, was squeezed into a corner of the room.

Hearing the door, Mom turned around.

Her smile faded slowly.

Her lips pressed into a thin, flat line. "You're back?" she asked, her tone cool.

I murmured in affirmation, still standing in the doorway.

Finding no space to step inside.

Mom added, "Go to your room and rest. I'll"

She paused, almost imperceptibly. "I'll come talk to you later tonight."

I nodded.

Without glancing towards the group again, I skirted the edge of the living room.

Headed upstairs.

As I closed my bedroom door behind me.

I faintly heard my grandmother's chastising voice, "...Didn't even come over to greet anyone. Spoiled rotten, completely lacking manners."

That night, I waited until I was nearly asleep.

Before mom finally knocked softly and entered my room.

I already knew the whole truth from those floating subtitles.

It was textbook clich.

I was the housekeeper's biological child.

She and the lady of the house gave birth at the same time.

She had secretly switched the babies.

I remained with the Martinez family, bathed in with luxury and affection.

She fled to the countryside with the real Martinez heiress.

Only last month, when she fell critically ill and passed away.

Did the Martinezs bring their actual daughter home.

"Because of that woman's selfishness, my own flesh and blood suffered out there for over a decade," Mom said, her eyes reddening.

Her words felt like a physical weight, making it hard to lift my head.

What could I say? What shouldI say?

As the conversation ended, Mom spoke with her back to me. "This house is full of your childhood memories. So your father and I are taking Victoria and moving to the penthouse downtown."

"My daughter has endured enough hardship. From now on, she comes first."

I nodded, my voice low. "I understand Mom."

I didn't sleep a wink. The next morning, I got up very early.

When I left the house with my backpack.

The sky was still dark.

So when I went downstairs and found Cole leaning against his motorcycle, reading a textbook under the dim streetlight,

I was stunned. "Why are you here so early?"

After everything that happened last night.

I'd almost forgotten Cole was supposed to pick me up.

Cole straightened up, tucking the book away, and cleared his throat. "Forgot to set a specific time last night."

He looked at me. "Was worried you might leave first, or that you'd be waiting for me. So I came early."

My throat tightened. For a moment, I didn't know what to say.

Until Cole pulled out his phone. "Can I have number? Then I can just text you next time."

I recited it.

Cole stood right in front of me, carefully punching in each digit.

I saw my number I'd given him matched one already saved in his contacts.

Cole lifted his gaze to meet mine.

He was straightforward. "I've been chasing you for ages. I've had your number and address for a long time."

"But I never came by before. Never dared to call."

The rumors swirling about Cole at school were endless.

He was flashy, he was arrogant.

He'd openly challenged the principal during school assemblies.

But this was the first time.

I'd seen him deliberately temper his nature, acting with such careful consideration.

"Thank you," I said.

Cole seemed not to have heard clearly, leaning in slightly. "What was that?"

I looked at him earnestly. "Thank you for picking me up."

In the dim pre-dawn light, Cole's expression was hard to read.

But he seemed almost shy, turning his head away slightly. "Nothing to thank me for."

Suddenly, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a carton of milk.

"Left in a bit of a rush this morning," he said, pressing it into my hand. "This was all I managed to grab."

"Drink it for now."

He swung his leg over the bike, glancing back at me. "Come on, let's get you some proper breakfast."

I held onto his waist as I settled onto the motorcycle.

I hadn't had a drop of water since last night.

Only now did I realize how truly hungry I was.

The wind roared past my ears.

I tightened my grip on the still-warm milk carton.

Because Cole and I arrived so early.

After he dropped me off, the school building was practically empty.

So he naturally followed me into my classroom.

He sat down in the empty seat beside me and pulled out a textbook.

He sprawled casually in the chair next to mine, then caught my eye and pulled his legs in slightly. "Not trying to bother you."

He added, "Just gonna do some reading."

I saw the title of the textbook in his hands.

I turned and rummaged in my desk, pulling out a thick notebook.

"This is my Physics notes from freshman to senior year. If you need it"

I wasn't used to offering help so directly.

My words trailed off, but Cole smoothly picked them up. "Are you using it now?"

I shook my head.

He took it with both hands, flipping through the densely written pages.

"I'll study it carefully," he said, his eyes meeting mine.

Then, suddenly, he propped his chin on his hand and leaned closer.

"Vivian."

He was so near I could count each individual dark eyelash.

In that instant, I sharply remembered.

Cole had called my name many times before.

Every formal confession, every time we passed in the hallways.

His eyes would follow me, look directly at me, deliberately speaking my name.

But countless times before.

I had never truly acknowledged it.

So now.

Meeting his gaze, I asked softly, "What is it?"

A smile flickered in Cole's eyes. He waved the notebook. "So if I don't understand something can I ask you?"

I nodded. "Of course."