"Okay, we need some rules."
Manon grabbed her notebook off the desk and sat down on her bed. She patted the spot right beside her.
She opened to a fresh page and clicked her pen.
"Rule one," she said, writing as she spoke. "No actual feelings."
"No falling in love for real." She looked at me, dead serious. "This is fake. A performance. We're doing this to get back at Matt and to get him off my back. That's it."
"Okay," I said slowly. "No real feelings."
"Rule two." She kept writing. "We tell our friends the truth. Dani, Asher, the girls. They need to know so they can help sell it."
"Rule three." She paused, tapping the pen against her chin. "Physical contact is allowed but limited. Hand-holding in public. Arms around shoulders. Maybe a cheek kiss if we really need to sell it."
"Don't push it, Frankenstein."
I almost laughed. "You called me Frankenstein."
"Old habits." She shrugged, but her cheeks were pink. "Rule four. We don't tell Matt. Ever. He finds out from seeing us, not from us."
"Rule five." She wrote slower now. "If either of us wants to stop, we stop. No questions asked. No guilt."
I looked at her. "That's fair."
"Rule six." She put the pen down. "We actually hang out. For real. Not just for show. If we're going to pretend to date, we should at least be friends first."
"Are we not already friends?"
She considered this. "I don't know. Are we?"
"I stayed in your bed all night. I think that makes us friends."
She smiled small, real. "Okay. Friends."
"Friends who are fake dating."
I leaned back against her headboard. "Anything else?"
Manon looked at her notebook. Six rules. She tore the page out and handed it to me.
"Keep it," she said. "So you don't forget."
I folded the paper and tucked it into my pocket.
"So," I said. "When do we start?"
Manon glanced at her window. The sun had set. The sky was dark.
"Tomorrow," she said. "At school. We walk in together."
"Together together." She nodded. "You pick me up. We hold hands in the hallway. We sit together at lunch."
"Matt's going to lose his mind."
I stood up. "Okay. Tomorrow. I'll be here at seven-thirty."
She stood too. Walked me to her door.
"Thank you. For changing your mind."
I looked at her at the girl who'd called me Frankenstein, who'd laughed when Matt hurt me, who'd sat in her window and watched me write.
"Don't thank me yet," I said. "We haven't seen Matt's face when he finds out."
She laughed a real laugh, bright and surprised.
I walked downstairs, past Ms. Bannerman in the kitchen, and out the front door.
The air was cold. The stars were out.
I touched the paper in my pocket and smiled.
Tomorrow was going to be interesting.
7:25 AM. I pulled into Manon's driveway, killed the engine, and sat there for a second.
My hands were sweating on the steering wheel.
It's just a ride to school. You've done this a hundred times. Except you haven't. Not with her. Not like this.
I grabbed my bag, got out, and walked to her front door. Before I could knock, it swung open.
Manon stood there in a cream-colored sweater and dark jeans, hair loose, a small bag slung over her shoulder. She looked... different. Softer. Like she'd taken down a wall I didn't know she had.
"You're early," she said.
"I said seven-thirty. It's seven-twenty-five."
"Five minutes early is on time."
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Whatever. Let's go."
She locked the door behind her and followed me to the car. I opened the passenger door for her. She raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Just got in.
I walked around to the driver's side, started the engine, and backed out of the driveway.
The drive to school was short ten minutes, maybe. But ten minutes can feel like an hour when you're sitting next to someone who used to call you Frankenstein.
Manon stared out the window for the first few blocks. Then she turned to me.
"Can I ask you something?"
"When did you know you liked writing? Like, really knew?"
I glanced at her. "That's random."
"I'm trying to get to know you." She said it simply, like it was obvious. "We're fake dating. We should at least know things about each other."
I thought about it. "I was nine. My grandma gave me a journal for my birthday. She said, 'Write down the things you can't say out loud.' So I did. And I never stopped."
Manon was quiet for a second. "That's sweet."
"She was the only one who got me." I swallowed. "She died two years ago."
Another pause. The car hummed along the road.
"Can I ask you something else?" Manon said.
"Are you..." She hesitated. "This is going to sound weird."
She took a breath. "I've heard things. Rumors. About why you got bullied in Washington. Not the Kayla stuff. Before that."
My hands tightened on the wheel.
"People said you were... different. Born different." She was watching me carefully. "Is that true?"
The air in the car felt heavy.
I could lie. I could change the subject. I could pull over and tell her to get out.
But I was tired of lying. Tired of hiding. Tired of being scared of what people would think.
"Yeah," I said. My voice came out steady. "I was born intersex."
Manon didn't say anything.
"It means my body doesn't fit typical definitions of male or female.I've never felt normal. And when people found out in Washington, they made my life hell."
The car was silent except for the engine.
I kept my eyes on the road.
"You're the first person I've told since we moved here," I said. "Asher doesn't even know."
"Why are you telling me?"
I glanced at her. "Because you asked. And because if we're going to pretend to date, you should know who you're pretending with."
Manon turned in her seat, facing me fully.
I signaled and guided the car to the side of the road. Put it in park. Stared straight ahead.
Manon reached over and put her hand on top of mine. Her fingers were warm.
"I don't care," she said.
"I don't care that you're intersex," she said. "I don't care about any of it. You're Y/N. You're the girl who fixed my mom's lawnmower. You're the girl who writes screenplays and watches Looney Tunes and dances like an idiot to make people smile." She squeezed my hand. "That's who you are to me. That's all that matters."
My throat was tight. "You mean that?"
I stared at her. At her steady eyes, her open expression, the way she hadn't pulled away.
"No one's ever said that to me," I admitted. "Not like that."
"Then they were all idiots."
I almost laughed. Almost cried. Instead, I just sat there, holding her hand, letting myself believe her.
"I have a question for you," I said.
"Why did you call me Frankenstein?"
Manon's face flickered. Guilt, maybe. Or embarrassment.
"I was jealous," she said quietly.
"Of the way you didn't care. You walked into school like you had nothing to prove. You sat in the back of the class and got A's without trying. You helped my mom because you wanted to, not because you wanted something from her." She pulled her hand back, tucking it into her lap. "You were everything I wasn't. And I hated you for it. So I called you a name to make myself feel bigger."
"You called me Frankenstein because I was confident?"
"I called you Frankenstein because I was insecure." She looked out the window. "I'm sorry. I know that doesn't make it okay."
"No," I said. "It doesn't. But... I understand."
She looked back at me. "You do?"
"I've been mean to people because I was hurting too." I put the car back in drive. "It doesn't excuse it. But I get it."
Manon nodded slowly. "Okay."
I pulled into the school parking lot. Students were everywhere getting out of cars, walking in groups, laughing.
"Are you ready?" I asked.
She looked at my hand on the gear shift. Then at me.
"Yeah," she said. "One more thing."
"Hold my hand. When we walk in."
My heart skipped. "You sure?"
We got out of the car. I locked it, slung my bag over my shoulder, and walked around to her side.
Her fingers laced through mine like they belonged there.
We walked toward the front doors together. People stared. Whispers started.
Manon's hand was warm in mine. Her thumb traced small circles on my skin.
"This is weird," she said quietly.
I glanced at her. She was looking straight ahead, but the corner of her mouth was turned up.
"Yeah," I said. "Good weird."
We walked through the doors.
The hallway was packed. Lockers slammed. Voices echoed.
And Matt was standing by his locker, right in our path.
His eyes landed on our hands. His face went from confused to furious in less than a second.
Manon squeezed my fingers.
"Morning, Matt," she said, sweet as honey.
We passed him without another word.
The morning passed in a blur.
Every time we walked down the hallway, people stared. Whispers followed us like a shadow. Are they together? Since when? What about Matt?
Manon didn't let go of my hand.
By the time lunch rolled around, my palm was sweaty and my heart was pounding for reasons I refused to name.
We sat down at our usual table in the corner. Asher was already there, picking at a bag of chips. Dani slid in next to him. Lara, Megan, Sophia, and Yoonchae filled the rest of the seats.
Manon sat beside me. Close.
"Okay," she said, looking around the table. "I need to tell you all something."
"The fake dating thing," Manon continued. "Y/N and I are doing it. To get back at Matt."
Dani's eyes went wide. "Wait, seriously?"
"Seriously." Manon glanced at me. "We made rules. No real feelings. Limited physical contact. We tell our friends the truth. And if either of us wants to stop, we stop."
Megan grinned. "This is the best day of my life."
"You're insufferable," Lara said, but she was smiling too.
Sophia nodded slowly. "I think it's smart. Matt needs to see that Manon has moved on."
"To Y/N," Yoonchae added quietly.
"To someone better," Manon said.
Asher stood up abruptly. "Hey, Y/N. Come with me for a sec."
I looked at him, confused. "What?"
I got up and followed him out of the cafeteria, into the empty hallway near the gym.
He stopped by the water fountain and turned to face me.
"I'm thinking of asking Dani out," he said.
My eyebrows shot up. "For real?"
"For real." He ran a hand through his hair, nervous. "I've liked her since eighth grade. You know that. And now that she's done with Jonah... I don't want to wait anymore."
"Then don't," I said. "Ask her."
I grabbed his shoulders. "Asher. She looks at you like you're the only person in the room. She stayed after practice to help you. She kissed your cheek at the carnival. Just ask her."
He let out a breath. "Okay. Okay. But I need a plan. Something not embarrassing."
"Yeah. Like... I don't know. A date proposal. Something that says 'I like you' without me having to say the words because I'll probably throw up."
I thought for a second. "The wrestling meet is over. What about this weekend? There's that winter fair downtown. Ice skating. Hot chocolate. You could ask her there."
Asher's eyes lit up. "That's actually good."
He smiled, then his expression shifted. "Hey. Can I ask you something?"
"What's going on with you and Manon? Like, really."
I hesitated. "We're fake dating. I told you."
"I know the plan. But I've seen you two. The way you look at each other. The way she held your hand all morning." He crossed his arms. "That's not fake, Y/N."
"We're just friends pretending to date."
"Okay whatever you say man." He shrugged, "Just be careful, okay? You've been through enough."
He nodded. "Good. Now let's go back before Dani thinks I'm avoiding her."
We turned to head back to the cafeteria.
Neither of us noticed Orlando slip away from the corner.
The cafeteria was loud when we walked back in. I was halfway to the table when Matt stood up from across the room.
"So it's true," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Frankenstein and my ex-girlfriend." He laughed cold, cruel. "What's next? You gonna write a screenplay about it?"
People turned to look at us.
Manon stood up. "Matt, don't."
"Don't what? Don't call out the freak you've been parading around?" He stepped closer, pointing at me. "You really think she likes you? She's using you to get to me. Everyone knows it."
My hands started shaking.
"You've got nothing," Matt continued. "No friends. Nobody in the family that wants you. No future. And now you're pretending to date my sloppy seconds?"
The room was dead silent.
Manon moved before I could react.
She grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me.
Not a peck. Not a cheek kiss. A real kiss firm, warm, her lips pressing against mine like she meant it.
My brain short-circuited.
Then she pulled back, turned to Matt, and smiled.
"Your sister," she said, loud and clear, "is a better kisser than you lousy no lips."
Gasps. Laughter. Phones out.
Matt's face went white, then red. "You—"
"Come on, Y/N." Manon grabbed my hand. "We're done here."
She pulled me out of the cafeteria, past the staring eyes, past the whispers, past Matt's frozen expression.
I couldn't feel anything except the ghost of her mouth on mine.
Manon didn't let go of my hand.
She pulled me through the cafeteria doors, down the hallway, past the rows of lockers, until we reached the library. The heavy wooden door closed behind us with a soft click.
The library was empty. Fluorescent lights hummed. Rows of books stretched in every direction, and the smell of old paper wrapped around me like a blanket.
Manon finally stopped walking. She turned to face me.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
My lips were still tingling. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. My brain was static white noise and the echo of her mouth on mine.
"You just—" I started. Stopped. Started again. "That was my first kiss."
Manon's eyes went wide. "What?"
"My first kiss," I repeated. "I've never... no one's ever..." I gestured vaguely at my face. "That was it."
She stared at me for a long moment. Then she started laughing.
Not mean laughter. Not mocking. The kind of laughter that bubbles up when something is so unexpected and so ridiculous that you can't help it.
"I'm not—" She covered her mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing because—" She giggled again. "I just stole your first kiss in front of half the school to get back at my ex-boyfriend."
"Technically, you asked for consent," I said. "When you grabbed my face. I didn't say no."
She lowered her hand, still smiling. "How do you feel?"
I touched my lips. "Like I don't know what just happened."
"Same." She leaned against a bookshelf. "I've never done anything like that before. Just... grabbed someone and kissed them."
"I've never been grabbed and kissed before."
Then we both started laughing.
It was the kind of laughter that came from somewhere deep relief and nerves and the absurdity of everything. Two girls hiding in the library, one of them fake-dating the other, after a public kiss that was supposed to be revenge.
"I can't go back to class," Manon said, wiping her eyes. "Everyone's going to be staring."
She pushed off the shelf. "Let's skip."
"Skip. The rest of the day. We leave. Right now." She grabbed my hand again. "I know a place."
I looked at her. At her bright eyes, her flushed cheeks, the small smile that wasn't cruel anymore.
"Yeah," I said. "I trust you."
She pulled me toward the library's back exit.
Twenty minutes later, we were walking through the entrance of the Westfield mall.
I blinked at the bright lights, the escalators, the rows of stores. "The mall?"
"My spot," Manon said, grinning. "Not some woodsy hike. This is where I come when I need to escape. People everywhere, but no one actually sees you."
I looked around. Teenagers lingered near the food court. Moms pushed strollers. A group of kids ran past laughing.
"Sometimes. Mostly I window shop. Try on things I can't afford. Eat pretzel bites." She pulled me toward a department store. "Come on."
The next hour was a blur of fabric and hangers.
Manon dragged me into store after store Zara, H&M, a little vintage shop in the corner. She held up dresses against her body, asked my opinion, tossed them over my arm when I said yes.
"You're supposed to be holding these," she said, adding a third sweater to the pile in my arms.
"Higher. Like you're proud to be my bag carrier."
I snorted. "Your bag carrier?"
"My fake girlfriend and bag carrier. It's a package deal."
I adjusted the stack of clothes and followed her into the fitting room area. She grabbed a stall and disappeared behind the curtain. I leaned against the wall outside, bags dangling from my wrists.
A few minutes later, the curtain pulled back.
Manon stepped out in a black velvet dress short sleeves, a-line skirt, simple but striking. She turned in front of the mirror, checking her reflection.
"What do you think?" she asked.
"The color suits you. The cut is flattering." I cleared my throat. "You look like you're going to a fancy dinner."
She smiled at herself in the mirror. "Maybe I am. One day." She turned to me. "You're staring."
"I'm observing. There's a difference."
She disappeared back behind the curtain. I exhaled.
We hit three more stores. By the end, my arms were full bags hooked over my elbows, a shoebox balanced on top, a garment bag slung over my shoulder. Manon walked ahead of me, sipping a smoothie she'd bought at the food court.
"You know," I said, struggling to keep up, "most people carry their own bags."
"Most people aren't fake dating a princess."
"I'm Swedish. That's basically royalty."
I laughed a real laugh, loud enough that a woman pushing a stroller glanced at us.
Manon looked back at me, her eyes soft. "There you go."
"Your real laugh. I don't hear it enough."
I didn't know what to say to that.
At the food court, she finally let me sit down.
"I'm getting us pretzel bites," she said. "Cinnamon sugar. Stay here."
She walked to the pretzel stand, and I watched her go. The way her hair swung. The way she walked confident, like she owned every room she entered. But different now. Softer.
When she came back with the pretzel bites and two lemonades, she sat across from me instead of next to me.
"For bringing me here. For... I don't know. Not being cruel."
She chewed a pretzel bite, thinking. "I don't want to be cruel anymore."
She looked at me. "You make it sound easy."
"Nothing about this is easy." I took a sip of lemonade. "But I'm tired of easy. Easy got me nowhere."
Manon was quiet for a moment. Then she reached across the table and took my hand.
"I'm glad you're here," she said.
We finished our pretzel bites in comfortable silence.
An hour later, we walked out of the mall with seven bags.
I was carrying six of them.
"You know," I said, shifting the weight, "for a fake girlfriend, I'm doing a lot of heavy lifting."
Manon was scrolling through her phone, walking ahead of me. "You're building character."
"Then you're building muscle."
I stopped walking. She took two more steps, then turned around.
"You haven't carried a single bag."
"You're the one who wanted to come to the mall."
"I wanted to clear my head. Shopping clears my head."
"Then you should carry the bags."
She walked back to me, took one bag the smallest one, the one with the boots and held it up triumphantly.
"That's the lightest bag."
We walked to the car together, side by side.
I dropped Manon off at her house around 4 PM. The sun was low, painting the sky orange. My arms ached from carrying bags, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.
"Same time tomorrow?" she asked, leaning across the center console.
"Same time tomorrow," I said.
she got out of the car, walked to her front door, and watched her go inside.
Taglist: @404cantfindizzie@nightmanon@rlotpuppy@lucastrans@sarahsonya78@spiderpunkmanon@iviza@jojifolklore@spiderx18@arandomperson407@xiiaann@theeintovertedgoof2109 @iamrandompersonhehe @aoeiurgnmddk@silverghost1621@r3al-l0s3r@morganismspam23@jxhjxba@scarly07@katseyeluvrrr
