Raymond’s POV

It had been months watching Amelia from the shadows. Her secret relationship with Michael wasn't to me because somehow, I managed to remain a witness each time.

Smashing Michael’s car wasn't because of his betrayal, I did that to teach him a bit of a lesson.

And I wasn't going to fix it, not like he had the guts to ask me to replace it.

As if on cue, after my proposal last night, I got a call from mom, reminding me of my date by weekend.

All through the night, I was awake. And for the first time in a while, I had to ask the moon goddess for a favor.

With Amelia on my side, I wouldn't be worried about getting impromptu dates set by my parents or explaining why I wasn't compatible with a social media model.

The next morning, I went to the art class, hoping she would show up.

To keep myself busy, I was flipping lazily through my sketchbook, half distracted by the streaks of charcoal dust on my fingers.

This was one of those peaceful moments I treasured. The solitude made me think straight and also calmed my nerves.

Just when I raised my head from the screen of my phone, she walked in.

She didn't even look around like she was unsure of what she was doing, she made her way towards me like she had already made up her mind before setting her foot in the room.

Smirking, I slowly placed my back against the wooden stool, counting each step she took.

“Miss cheer-crusher,” I greeted, deliberately acting cocky.

“What brings you to the dark corners of the art world? Are you here for a sketch of your ex’s shattered windshield?” I asked.

“Funny,” she deadpanned.

Still smirking, I patted the stool next to me.

“Do you need help with something?”

“No,” she said, folding her arms. “We need to talk in private.”

I lifted my brows in mock surprise, but I pushed myself up without a word. I followed her out of the art room and down one of the quiet corridors that connected to the old ceramics storage.

Once we were in, she turned around to face me.

“I’ve thought about your offer.”

“Offer?” I repeated, playing dumb.

“To be your fake girlfriend,” she said bluntly, going straight to the point.

I couldn't hide the grin that spread across my face. “I knew you would come around.” I smacked my lips, pushing my hands into my pockets as I arched my back a little.

“Don’t get cocky.” She chided, her gaze elsewhere.

“Too late.”

She didn't respond, she let out a sigh instead, clearly bracing herself up.

Moments later, she said, “If we’re doing this, we are setting some ground rules. No drama, no actual feelings, and we end it the moment one of us wants out.”

Leaning against the shelf with my arms crossed on my chest, I said, “Sounds reasonable but I get to make some rules too.”

“Shoot.”

“One, we hold hands in public and that's not up for debate.” She looked like she swallowed a lemon but she didn't protest.

“Fine. But no touching beyond that unless we’re in a setting where people are watching.”

“So, hand holding, yes. What about the arm around your shoulder?” I chuckled.

“Depends.” She snorted.

“On?”

“If I feel like punching you that day.”

“Fair enough,” I said, biting back a laugh. “Two, you have to sit next to me during team events, no ducking out.”

“I’m not wearing a team jersey.”

“I wouldn’t dream of forcing you into one unless you want to wear mine?”

Stunned, she couldn't help but stare at me.

Backing off with my hands raised above my head, I said, "I was just kidding.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched like she was trying not to laugh.

“Rule three, we never fake kiss unless it is necessary.” She made the third rule, staring at the bare floor like she was reading from it.

“Define necessary,” I said, tilting my head.

“You know, like...if someone’s watching us closely, or if it’s at a party and not kissing would be weird.”

“I’ll add that to the maybe list,” I replied with a grin. “Rule four: We text every morning and night.”

“Why?” she frowned.

“Couples do that.”

Narrowing her eyes, she was going to say something but she swallowed her words. “Fine, but no pet names.”

“No baby, honey, or sweetheart?” I teased. “Not even snugglebug?”

My last words made her eyes widened in horror.

With a deep frown etched on her face, she said, “Say that again and I’m walking out of this entire deal.”

Stifling a laugh, I pushed my hand forward to calm her, “Okay, okay. Rule five—”

“We’re already at five?” She huffed.

“This one’s important,” I said, pulling away from the shelf and stepping a little closer. “We make our first official appearance as a couple at Michael’s engagement party.”

She blinked. I saw it, the way her guard flickered for half a second.

“You want to show him you’ve moved on, right?” I added, my tone softening just enough to get through to her.

“He hurt you so let’s hit two birds with one very attractive stone. Let's make someone jealous.”

“You want to make someone jealous?” She asked, staring at me with suspicion dancing in her eyes.

“Don’t we all want to?” I answered with a shrug. “Besides, it’ll be fun.”

“Fun isn’t the word I would use for walking into my ex’s engagement party with the captain of the King U hockey team.”

“You’re right. The word is iconic.” I smirked.

“You’re impossible.”

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she shoved her hand up into her hair, “Let’s just get this over with,” she mumbled.

Taking another step closer, I lifted her chin with my fingers, forcing her to lock eyes with me.

“By the time we’re done, you might just fall in love with me,” I said.

Slapping my hand off, she countered, “In your dreams.”