Pretend to Hate You

Episode 1: Rumor Has It

The hallway hums with whispers before I even turn the corner.

Something electric hangs in the air—too curious, too synchronized. That’s the thing about Eastbridge Academy: gossip travels faster than Wi-Fi.

I grip my books tighter, pretending not to notice the heads that swivel my way. People murmur my name like I can’t hear them. Ava Chen. Perfect grades, perfect record, perfect disappointment waiting to happen.

Then I catch it. One word I never expected to follow my name.

“Boyfriend.”

I stop walking.

“Apparently she’s dating Reyes.”

Laughter snickers through the corridor. A locker slams. My heartbeat spikes so loud it almost drowns them out.

Liam Reyes.

Of all people.

The rebel genius who’s been my academic rival since freshman orientation. The boy who shows up late, sleeps through lectures, then still scores a fraction higher than me. The one who once told me, flat-eyed, “You mistake control for intelligence.”

I inhale slowly, exhale even slower, and keep walking. My heels click like gunshots down the marble hall.

My best friend Marcy jogs up beside me, wide-eyed. “You’ve seen the post?”

“What post?” My voice is calm, clipped, the same tone I use when dissecting a lab sample.

Her phone is already in my face before I finish the sentence.

On the Eastbridge Insider app, trending at number one:

📸 @thequeenbee: “When rivals burn too hot, they catch fire 🔥 #AvaXLiam #StudyBuddyOrMore?”

There’s a photo.

Liam and me leaving the library last night. I’m holding a stack of books. He’s holding the door open. Our faces are too close, the angle deceptive enough to suggest something it isn’t.

My stomach drops.

Marcy whispers, “It already has a thousand comments. Half the school thinks you’re together.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I say automatically. “We were finishing our physics project.”

But even as I say it, the damage is spreading. In the glass reflection of the hallway windows, I see screens lighting up with the same post, the same caption, the same rumor taking root.

I should ignore it. It’ll die out. Rumors always do.

Except Eastbridge thrives on drama, and the words Ava Chen has a boyfriend are apparently more shocking than nuclear disarmament.

---

Across campus, Liam Reyes leans back in his chair, scrolling through the same post.

He smirks, half amused, half incredulous. “Well, that’s new.”

His friend Mateo grins from across the table. “Congratulations, bro. You’re officially domesticated.”

“Shut up.”

He tosses his phone down, but the comments are still burned into his mind: ‘Finally, someone tamed the genius!’ — ‘Never saw this coming.’

He shouldn’t care. He doesn’t care. Except… he knows what rumors can do here. Especially to her.

Ava Chen—the academy’s golden girl. The one who practically glows under fluorescent light, who raises her hand before a professor even finishes the question. The girl who looks at him like he’s a stain she can’t scrub off her perfect world.

And now they think she’s his girlfriend.

He laughs under his breath. The irony is almost poetic.

But something about it needles him. Because he saw her face last night, the moment before that photo was taken—tired, human, not the ice queen everyone thinks she is. And he remembers thinking, she’s more than she lets them see.

Now the entire school has reduced her to a headline.

---

By lunch, the rumor has mutated into something unrecognizable.

According to one version, I’ve been “secretly dating” Liam since last semester. Another claims I wrote him love letters—handwritten, scented. Disgusting.

Marcy slides into the cafeteria seat across from me. “You have to say something, Ava. Make a statement. Post a denial.”

“That would make it worse.”

She frowns. “You really think staying silent will help?”

Yes. Silence is control. My mother always says, Never let them see you flinch.

I stir my salad, appetite gone.

And then the cafeteria’s chatter shifts. Like a tide pulling toward a single point.

Liam Reyes has just walked in.

He’s in his usual black hoodie and ripped jeans, hair falling into his eyes, that casual smirk that says he doesn’t care—but his gaze finds mine immediately.

The room holds its breath.

He crosses the space between us, the noise dimming like someone turned down the world’s volume.

“Chen.”

“Reyes.”

We sound like two diplomats preparing for war.

He drops into the seat beside me—uninvited, of course—and steals a grape from my tray. “So,” he says, voice low, lazy. “Should we tell them the truth, or let them have their fun?”

I force a smile. “The truth would be nice.”

He leans back. “Which version? That you begged me for help on the project, or that I carried you through it?”

My eyes narrow. “You carried nothing but your ego.”

His grin widens. “Ah, there’s the fire. Careful—people might start thinking the rumor’s true.”

The table behind us gasps. Phones are already up, recording.

“Stop that,” I hiss under my breath. “You’re making it worse.”

He shrugs. “Relax. It’ll blow over.”

Except something in his expression tells me he knows it won’t. Not at this school. Not with my parents watching.

---

By evening, the situation has escalated beyond damage control.

A message from the Dean’s Office pings my inbox:

> Subject: Clarification Required Regarding Public Conduct

Please attend a brief meeting tomorrow morning concerning recent social media attention involving yourself and Mr. Reyes.

Perfect.

At the same moment, my phone buzzes again—this time with a call from my mother.

I answer reluctantly. “Hi, Mom.”

Her tone is sharp enough to slice through glass. “Ava. Care to explain why there are pictures of you behaving inappropriately with a boy online?”

“It’s not what it looks like. Someone took the photo out of context—”

“I don’t want excuses. Your father and I have invested too much in your reputation for you to throw it away over… distractions.”

“I’m not—”

She cuts me off. “Fix it. Immediately.”

The line goes dead.

I stare at the wall, the words pounding in my head: Fix it.

But how do you fix a rumor you didn’t start?

---

The next morning, I’m standing outside the Dean’s office when Liam arrives, hands shoved in his pockets, looking like he’s here for detention rather than a disciplinary hearing.

He nods at me. “Morning, girlfriend.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Ready to face the firing squad?”

“I wouldn’t be in this mess if not for you.”

“Funny,” he says. “I could say the same.”

Before I can respond, the secretary calls us in.

Dean Walters sits behind his massive oak desk, fingers steepled. “Ms. Chen. Mr. Reyes. It seems you’ve caused quite a stir.”

“It’s a misunderstanding,” I begin, but he raises a hand.

“The academy values discretion. Whether or not the relationship is real, it’s become a public distraction. I suggest you both clarify the situation before the end of the week.”

He dismisses us with a nod.

Outside, I round on Liam. “See what you did?”

He looks genuinely confused. “What I did? I didn’t post anything.”

“You didn’t stop it either.”

He sighs. “You can’t stop gossip, Ava. You either feed it or starve it.”

“And what exactly are we doing now?”

He meets my eyes, something calculating flickering there. “Starving it would mean ignoring it. Feeding it would mean…” He pauses, lips curling. “Playing along.”

I blink. “What?”

He shrugs. “If they think we’re dating, might as well give them a show. Let the rumor burn itself out.”

“That’s insane.”

“Maybe. But it’s the fastest way to make people lose interest.”

I stare at him. “You seriously expect me to pretend to date you?”

He smiles like he already knows I’ll say no. “Unless you have a better plan.”

My silence gives him the answer.

“Thought so,” he says softly. “See you around, sweetheart.”

And then he walks away, leaving me with the echo of that single word—sweetheart—burning like a challenge.

---

By evening, the rumor has metastasized again: screenshots of us leaving the Dean’s office together, captions spinning it as “official confirmation.”

I want to scream. Instead, I sit in my dorm room, laptop open, staring at the endless stream of comments.

Then a notification pops up from an unknown number.

Unknown: Still think ignoring it will help?

Me: Liam?

Unknown: Meet me in the library. 8 p.m. We need a plan.

I almost don’t go. I almost decide he’s not worth the chaos. But curiosity—or pride—wins.

The library is empty except for him, leaning against a table, the dim light throwing shadows across his face.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” he says.

“I’m not here for small talk. What’s your plan?”

He gestures toward the window where snow drifts outside. “Simple. We pretend it’s true. For now.”

I fold my arms. “You’re out of your mind.”

He steps closer, the air shifting between us. “You want your parents off your back, the Dean off our case, and the gossip cycle to die? Then we give them what they want.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

He hesitates, just long enough for me to notice. “Maybe I’m tired of being the villain in every story. Maybe having Eastbridge’s golden girl on my arm changes that.”

“So this is about your reputation.”

He smirks faintly. “And yours.”

I should walk away. I should tell him no. But the words that leave my mouth are, “How long?”

“Until they get bored.”

“And then?”

“Then we break up. Publicly. Dramatically, if you want.”

I study him, trying to read the expression that never gives anything away. “Fine,” I say finally. “We’ll make it look real.”

He extends his hand. “Deal?”

I hesitate only a second before shaking it. His hand is warm, his grip steady, the touch lingering half a beat too long.

When I pull away, something unsettled flutters in my chest.

He catches the flicker in my expression and grins. “Don’t worry, Chen. I’ll be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

I roll my eyes, ignoring the pulse in my throat. “Let’s get one thing straight, Reyes. This is fake. Completely.”

“Sure,” he says, voice low, almost teasing. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

He walks away, leaving me standing in the quiet library, heart racing, the echo of his smirk haunting the air.

And that’s when it hits me—

the rumor might have started as a lie,

but the way he looked at me just now felt dangerously real.