36 | All Good Things Come to a Fake End

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After one final week of bliss, Sebastian and I staged a very public breakup in the middle of Trinity's main hallway on a Friday after school

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After one final week of bliss, Sebastian and I staged a very public breakup in the middle of Trinity's main hallway on a Friday after school. Once the shouting and dramatics had finished, Michael had made a show of asking me out while Blair had immediately gone to comfort my now ex-boyfriend. And just like that, the fake lines were drawn, with Blair and Seb on one side, and me and Michael on the other.

The whole plan to help Blair out of her forced marriage was sure to make my life miserable for the next however many weeks that it took. I didn't want to break up with Seb -- Jesus, who would? -- even if it wasn't for real, and I certainly I didn't want to see him with Blair everyday. The only saving grace was Sebastian's promise that nothing bad would happen, and that the moment Blair's father went back to Iran for a six month stretch to oversee his company, we would be happily reunited.

Michael had offered to drive me home after the confrontation, and I had gratefully accepted, climbing into the passenger's seat of his Ferrari.

"Well that sucked," I grumbled. "Do you think everyone bought it?"

"I definitely think the masses bought your breakup with Sebby-poo, but I don't know if they'll believe I'd want to date his sloppy-seconds." He took his eyes off the road long enough to shoot me a playful leer. "We might have to convince them. Wanna give them a show on Monday, mon minou?"

The thought made me want to puke, but I choked it back in order to preserve Michael's freshly detailed car. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"That's probably good," he agreed easily as he hooked a sharp right onto Wisconsin Avenue and headed towards my house. "You're not really my type anyway."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow, not particularly offended, but a little confused since his past actions begged to differ. "I'm not?"

"God, no," he snorted, slapping the steering wheel. "I mean, yeah, you're cute and all, and I always enjoy chasing after things that will never be mine, but personality-wise you're just not what I'm into."

"But you always make it seem like you want to get me into bed," I pointed out, more amused than stung by his words. "And you can't deny that you've tried a handful of times."

"You mean that weak effort?" He scoffed as we pulled up to a red light and reached over to cup the back of my neck, forcing me to look him dead in the eye. "Sugartits, the only reason I did all of that was to see if Sebastian was truly interested in you."

"And was he?"

A smirk tugged on his lips. "You and I both know the answer to that one." And then his gentle touch was gone, replaced by a slap to the back of the head. "Don't you ever doubt his love for you, Stick Girl. You'd have to be pretty stupid to do that -- but then again, you're not exactly the brightest bulb in the box, are you, ma bichette?"

I sneered back at him, but there wasn't much feeling behind it. "Screw you."

The asshole had the nerve to blow me a kiss before putting the pedal to the floor. We screeched to a halt in front of my house a minute and a half later, and I noted that we had made it there in record time.

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