Fake Dating The Bad Boy Chapter 8: Date Me

Justin

I dished out so food, sliding a plate across the counter toward her. She hesitated for a second before stepping forward, picking it up, and settling onto one of the stools at the kitchen island.

I watched as she picked at the food, pushing it around with her fork before finally taking a bite.

Silence.

Not awkward. Just... there.

For once, June Matthews wasn't running her mouth, wasn't flashing that overconfident smirk, wasn't acting like she had the entire world at her feet.

Instead, she looked... tired.

Like she had nothing left in her to fight with.

I didn't like it.

Not that it was my business.

I turned back to my own plate, forcing myself to eat, even though my mind wouldn't shut the fuck up.

She was sitting in my apartnt. Wearing my clothes. Eating my food.

And I didn't feel the urge to kick her out.

That was new.

And I didn't like new.

I liked routine. I liked control. I liked knowing exactly what to expect from people.

June? She wasn't fitting into any of those categories right now.

She cleared her throat suddenly, setting her fork down. "You're not gonna ask?"

I didn't pretend to be stupid. I knew what she was talking about.

Her break-up. The public humiliation. The betrayal.

I t her gaze lazily, leaning back in my chair. "Ask what?"

Her jaw clenched slightly, as if she was waiting for the inevitable I told you so.

I shrugged. "I saw you crying. That's all I need to know."

She blinked, like she hadn't expected that. "So, you're not gonna ask what happened?"

"Would you tell if I did?"

She looked away. Exactly.

I took another bite, letting the silence stretch again.

I wasn't gonna push her. I didn't do that shit. If she wanted to talk, she would.

If not? Not my fucking problem.

But for so reason, a part of wanted her to.

Because if she was talking, then at least she wouldn't look so damn... broken.

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. "It's stupid anyway."

I raised an eyebrow. "That why you cried in the rain like so sad movie cliché?"

She shot a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. "Screw you, Black."

I smirked. "Now that sounds more like you."

Her lips twitched slightly, like she was fighting a smile.

For the first ti that night, she looked a little less wrecked.

And I didn't know why, but that made feel a little less pissed off about bringing her here.

"I'm still not signing the assignnt," she said, now eating more like herself.

I shrugged, not bothering to argue. Her loss.

"Unless..." she added, and that got my attention.

I looked up, curious. She had that look—the one she got when she was thinking. I knew it well because I'd watched her enough to notice. It was the sa face she wore during exams, brows slightly furrowed, lips pursed in thought.

"Unless what?" I prompted.

She set her fork down, eting my gaze head-on.

"Unless you help get back at my ex."

I let my fork drop against the plate, narrowing my eyes at her. The fuck did she just say?

"Co again?"

She was eating like she hadn't just said sothing completely insane, her usual confidence slipping back into place. "You heard ," she said, swallowing a bite of food. "I want to get back at Bart."

I leaned back, arms crossing over my chest. "And what exactly does that have to do with ?"

She t my gaze head-on, no hesitation. "I want you to pretend to date ."

I blinked. Once. Twice.

Then I laughed. Actually laughed.

Because there was no way she was serious.

But June Matthews didn't look like she was joking.

I tilted my head. "Let get this straight. You want —Justin Black—to play the role of your loving, doting, picture-perfect boyfriend?"

She scoffed. "Not picture-perfect. Just enough to make Bart jealous."

I stared at her, waiting for the punchline.

It never ca.

"You're serious."

She took another bite, nodding.

I huffed a laugh, shaking my head. "No fucking way."

Her brows furrowed slightly, like she hadn't considered that I might actually say no.

"You need to sign the assignnt," she reminded , lifting a brow.

I smirked lazily. "And you need to fake-date you. Sounds like we're both screwed."

She groaned, setting down her fork. "Co on, it's a win-win. You don't even like people. You won't have to do anything extra. Just be you—silent, broody, scary as hell. Walk to class, let sit with you, maybe wrap an arm around every now and then."

I narrowed my eyes. "That last part sounds pretty fucking extra to ."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. No arm wrapping. But at least make it look real."

I didn't respond, just studied her.

She was desperate. That much was obvious. But what got was why.

"Why do you care so much?" I asked, tilting my head.

Her jaw tensed slightly. "Because he dumped like I was nothing."

Like I was nothing.

Sothing about the way she said it made my chest feel weird.

I didn't do feelings. Didn't do attachnt.

But I understood what it was like to be discarded.

Still. That didn't an I was about to agree to this insanity.

"Not my problem, princess," I muttered, picking up my fork again.

She exhaled sharply, frustrated. "You hate Bart, don't you?"

I paused. She had a point.

I fucking hated that guy.

The idea of watching his smug face crumble when he saw June on my arm? Yeah. I wasn't gonna lie. That sounded fun as hell.

Still, letting her win this easily would be boring.

I smirked, leaning in slightly. "You really want my help?"

She nodded.

I dragged my tongue over my teeth, then tilted my head. "Then beg."

Her lips parted slightly in shock. "Excuse ?"

I leaned back with a lazy grin. "You want to play boyfriend? Make it worth my ti."

She scowled. "You're an ass."

I shrugged. "And you're the one asking for my help."

For a mont, she just sat there, contemplating.

Then, to my absolute fucking surprise, she sighed, placed her hands together, and muttered, "Please, Justin. Will you help make my ex jealous?"

I wasn't sure which part of that made more amused—the fact that she actually said it, or the fact that she looked like she wanted to strangle while doing so.

I smirked. "Fine."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah, sure." I leaned back again, stretching my arms. "But I don't do half-assed."

She looked at warily. "What does that an?"

"It ans if we're gonna do this, we do it my way."

She narrowed her eyes. "Which is?"

I smirked darkly. "You'll see."