Iris

Plot ⋆｡°✩ to get back at your ex boyfriend and ex best friend, you try to show them that you’re truly doing better than the both of them- by using a decoy. A devilishly tall, handsome and sarcastic decoy who’s more than happy to play the part.

Content ⋆｡°✩ cheating, swearing, angst, eventual smut, lowk academic enemies to lovers eekk, !not proofread!

Word Count ⋆｡°✩ 6.4k

Song for this chapter ⋆｡°✩ irreplaceable by Beyoncé

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You were crying. Black, mascara filled tears trampled down your cheeks like they wished for an escape, jotting down onto your white blouse with little care.

The bottle in your hand slips from your grasp, clattering to the floor but not shattering. No, you weren’t that lucky. The noise is enough to stir them though, and force James and Sabrina apart, lips puffy and eyes hazy.

You can tell they weren’t expecting visitors. Sabrina opens her mouth as if to say something but you don’t give her the chance, shaking your head as more tears fall. Somehow, you laugh. The irony of it all.

When you stumble away from the doorway of the bedroom, you hear ruffling followed by a soft ‘don’t’. Typical. James, ever the conflict avoider. His name leaves a bitter taste in your mouth that you swallow as you navigate through the house, ignoring the stares of people you pass who are undoubtedly gossiping.

You take the steps two at a time, unsure if you’ll fall but not really caring if you do. The tears have not stopped, and each time your hand slides down the handrail it grips tighter. You can feel your chest closing, gasping for air that seems like it’s running out.

You stumble past a couple of people who you’re sure you’d recognise if you weren’t so hasten in trying to get out of this fucking house, when the front door finally comes into sight. It’s wide open, spewing in what little light is left of the day, and there’s more people outside than you would’ve liked.

The fresh air feels like a slap to the face. People out here look too, wondering on what’s happened, but you don’t care, stumbling towards the gate at the front and out into the street.

And right into someone.

Admittedly, this is the last thing you’d like to have done. They don’t move when you crash into them, only chuckling lowly as you pull back and mumble a string of apologies.

“S’okay,” the voice makes you look up. Now, you’d like to shoot yourself. Right between the eyes. As if your luck can get any fucking worse. Any worse.

“You okay?” He asks, feigning compassion. You’d know it better than anyone, because as the stars would have you, the person you crashed into was Rafe Cameron.

Rafe Cameron, your number one sworn enemy since you’d started your law degree two years ago. He’d been the prick sat in the back who’d always had better answers than you or corrected you when you were wrong. He did better in everything and made sure to rub it in while he was at it.

“Peachy. Great.” Your response is nothing short of bitter, pulling back from the suffocating air of his circle. His friends, like hawks, observe closely in the back and you know this will be a new line of torment from them.

Rafe raises an eyebrow, briefly looking you up and down before nodding his head once. “If you say so.”

You’re undoubtfully glad the interaction ends there, Rafe pushing past, hawk friends following, into the open gate of the party.

When you reach your dorm and the door shuts behind you with a soft click of the latch, it all comes out. There’s pictures of you and James on your wall that are ripped down, as well as the ones with you and Sabrina- the brunette smiling in each of them not the one you witnessed at that party.

You’re still in shock; reeling from the entire idea. How long had it been going on? How long had they played you for a fool? They certainly made you look like a fool, your face streaked with mascara, eyes red- fat black blobs of dried tears resting on your blouse.

The texts begin soon after. You’re lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling when the first few come through. You know it’s Sabrina because you have a different text chime for her.

Please talk to me 8.45pm

I’m sorry 8.46pm

I’ll make this up to you 8.46 pm

It just.. happened 8.52 pm

The last one makes you scoff, wiping a tear from your eye and chucking your phone across the room. It clatters against the wall next to your desk before falling to the floor with a depleted plop, like the phone is fed up too.

It just happened? How does cheating with your best friends boyfriend just happen? It doesn’t, is the answer. Whatever was going on had obviously happened with intent. Your mind is racing trying to think of all the different times you could’ve noticed something, anything- and before you know it, it’s seven am.

You haven’t slept a wink. You dress for class half heartedly, almost forgetting to pack your laptop into your tote bag and putting two different shoes on. In any other situation, you’d have laughed.

You scrape your hair up out of your face, observing your puffy eyes in the mirror before deciding to take off what remained of your makeup.

Your door creaks open as you pop your head out, half expecting to see Sabrina stood there waiting for you like she has been for the past two years- her room right down the hall for yours. She isn’t there. No one is, in fact, the hallway quiet like it’s Christmas and you’re the only one left in dorms.

You trudge down the hallway, phone and keys in hand, pushing open the doorway to the elevator room, mind numb. You weren’t sure how you were going to do in class today. You’d thought your brain into pure exhaustion.

The cold November air hits you like a ton of bricks in a smothered pillowcase and you grasp your hoodie tighter to your body, observing the few other students walking to their own classes. Lucky bastards. Someone even skips past you, headphones on, bag swinging as they catch up to their friends.

Jealousy bites at your insides. Sabrina had been your only friend, really. Anyone else you knew were through her or James.

“Hey sunshine,” an arm slings over your shoulder and the voice makes you repulse. Topper Thornton. One of Rafe’s hawks. You duck under his arm, swerving round to step back in front of him and speed up your pace.

“Woah, what’s with the hostility?” You can hear the malice in his grin, the way he steps back in line with you as he leans down a little. “I’m just here to give you a shoulder to cry on, if you need it.”

Your eyes roll before you can stop it, feet speeding up their pace as you reach the law building. You’re hoping the conversation will end here, as you swing open the door- but topper follows you in.

“Not in the talking mood ey? Shame,” he clicks his teeth, shadow looming over you as you both head into the classroom- of the class that topper does not attend. He goes to beeline for Rafe and Kelce, but stops again, lowering his mouth to your ear.

“I heard it’s because you didn’t put out.” Your eyes widen, hand gripping your phone and keys so tightly you’re sure they could snap. It feels like your lungs are collapsing, internally setting ablaze- and all you can do is dart your eyes to Topper as he loudly laughs, making his way over to Rafe and Kelce.

You think you’re shaking. A tear threatens your waterline, teasing you.

Not here, not now, you tell yourself. Rafe shakes his head at topper, jaw set. Topper soon stops laughing, taking a seat near Kelce, who falls into conversation with topper. You can see Rafe staring. Why is he staring?

It takes all you’ve got to not burst into tears. The tear slips from your waterline and lands down on your hand and you turn numbly, taking a seat. You fiddle with your keys once again, feeling the heat rushing up to your cheeks.

So everyone knew then. Already. The rumour mill was insane at the college- you’d seen it force Alice mack to quit her course when everyone was sending it around that she’d fucked a gay guy to get some dick. Insane.

And now they’d turned on you. The classroom falls silent as the chair next to you scrapes and someone takes a seat in it. They don’t say a word, but you know who it is.

And you want to crush his head like a watermelon. James offers you a tight lipped smile when you eye him for a second, scowling as you turn your focus back to your keys. Your knuckles are turning white from how hard they’re grasping the keys.

It your post whatever-the-fuck-you-experienced-last-night haze, you’d completely forgot he was in your class. It’s how you met, afterall.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. You feel the tears well again, images of him and Sabrina flashing across your mind like a neon sign advertising the betrayal- as well as replaying the first day when you’d been nauseous as fuck to start at this college with no friends and he’d taken the chair next to you, introducing himself.

“… and I’m really sorry, y’know. You weren’t supposed to find out like this,” James hushed voice whispers, ears turning into the last part. You can feel his presence ever looming, turned in his chair to look at you.

Your eye twitches. You know everyone is watching but would they turn an eye to you bashing his skull against the table?

“It’s not like we intended for it to happen, it just-”

“Happened?” You snap, lifting your head to meet his eyes. He looks taken aback for a second, before smiling and nodding.

“I’m glad you understand.”

Oh boy. Oh fucking boy. “Understand?” You can feel your blood boiling.

James nods his head again. “We can still be friends, y’know. No hard feelings.”

A gasp sounds from behind you but you’re so far away mentally that you barely register it. There’s pure silence in your head right now, and it scared you.

“No. Hard. Feelings?” You repeat, hand gripping your keys so hard it feels like they’ll snap in two. James smiles, almost laughing, as he pulls his laptop from his bag.

“Yeah. I’m so grateful you understand.” The ticking you think you hear from the clock is actually in your head, you realise, and you scoff.

“I hope you fucking die, James. I hope someone bites your dick off and shoves it down your fucking throat you bastard. You and Sabrina deserve each-other.” His eyes widen at your outburst, uncomfortably shifting in his own seat.

“I don’t think there’s any need for-” he begins, slowly opening his laptop. You cut him off, standing from your seat.

“You don’t tell me what I need and don’t need. You cheated on me, and now you’re trying to play the good guy. Go fuck yourself you pretentious asshole.” This time you hear someone whistle from the back of the classroom, and you’re confident it’s topper. You grasp your bag from the back of your chair, storming towards the door as the professor enters.

Who the fuck needs class anyway?

The tears come as you fall out of the law building into the bite of November cold, winds lashing against your cheeks. You’re not sure what to do now. Your brain is well and truly shut down. Across the park from you is a couple sat together on a bench, huddled together among the cold.

Jealousy bites upon your spine once again. Fuck this. What the fuck.

You turn on your heel, intent on heading back to your dorm to wallow in your self pity when someone calls your name. Shoulders sagging, you turn around- expecting James.

Rafe Cameron stands at the door of the law building, zipping up his fleece as he canters down the steps, bag slung over his shoulder in that effortless model like way he’s always got going on.

He takes the few steps it takes to reach you, and then grins. “That was pretty awesome.”

You quirk an eyebrow, no doubt looking like a homeless woman. “You followed me out here for that?”

Rafe rubs his hands together, still grinning. He falls into step with you as you continue to walk. “No, actually. I heard, and I’m sorry. It’s a really shitty thing for them to do.”

The idea of rafe Cameron offering you anything other than pure sarcasm confuses you, and you stop in the middle of the sidewalk to look up at him.

“Okay, Rafe, what do you want because I don’t know if you can tell but I’m not in the mood for you to torment me-”

Rafe’s hands grasp your shoulders, stopping you mid sentence. He leans down, so he’s eye level with you, before speaking.

“No, no. Look, I did some thinking last night after I found out and I think I have a proposal, of sorts, for you.”

You scoff, pulling away from his hands and continuing the walk to your dorm. You go to pull open the door but Rafe closes it with his hand, leaning against it to prevent you from getting in.

“Look, Rafe, whatever joke you’re running here I’m not interested.” You sigh out, readjusting the straps of your tote bag on your shoulder, shoving your hands into your hoodie pockets after.

Rafe, undoubtedly, raises his hands in self defence. “No joke. Sisters life. Only a mutually beneficial proposal for you to hear if you’ll grant me that pleasure.”

You sigh again, weighing out your options. Option a: go back to your dorm and rot in bed, thinking about the existential life crisis you’re currently having, or option b: you can hear Rafe Cameron, one of your least favourite people, out.

An hour later you sit in a coffee shop just outside of campus, nursing a cup of steaming coffee that’s too hot for you to drink right now. Rafe settles into the chair across from you, cup of something to his own desire steaming up towards the ceiling.

You drum your fingers on the table, waiting for him to begin.

“So.” You hum along with Rafe’s first word, dancing fingers along the top of your cup. The anger had long since dissipated, leaving a numbing feeling. No sadness. Just nothing.

“So, I did a bit of thinking.” Rafe takes a sip of his- now coffee, as you can see- and pulls a face, swallowing. “Hot.”

He places his cup back down. “I think you and I have something for each other that we could benefit from, you see.”

You roll your head on your neck, leaning further down into the chair. “And that is?”

Rafe grins, leaning back, one arm bent over the back of his chair. “I need help with classes. You need help showing that wet sock what he’s missing out on.”

You snort, loud, causing the couple to the left of you to glance over. You mouth sorry before a hand comes up to cover your mouth, laughing more.

You’re not sure if it’s because of Rafe calling James a wet sock- or the fact that Rafe Cameron needs tutoring. It must be both.

“You’re taking the piss?” His lips press into a thin line, slowly shaking his head as if the idea of him needing help in class is completely baffling.

“No ma’am, I am not. He is in fact a wet sock.” You snort again, sinking down further into your seat when that couple looks over again, obviously displeased.

“Not about that Rafe. The other thing. The tutoring.” This time, he nods.

“The uh, the end of year exams are coming up in a month and I am short of shit at revising for them, let alone sitting them.” He clears his throat, eyes looking around the coffee shop before settling back in on you.

You sit up straighter. “Thee Rafe Cameron, the one who always corrects my answers in class- is asking me for help?”

He scowls. “Yeah. Don’t make a big deal out of it or I won’t hold up my end.” He takes another sip of his coffee.

“Oh yeah? And what’s your side exactly?”

“Oh,” rafe grins, straightening out in his chair. “I pretend to be your sexy, hot and talk of the campus bounce back boyfriend that will put that wet sock to shame.”