More Than Pretend

Jealousy Is Not in the Contract

Beacon Hills had never looked so nosey.

It had been a week since you and Stiles started fake dating, and the whole school had officially entered gossip mode. Whispers followed you through the halls. People stared when you held hands. One girl even asked if you and Stiles were Beacon Hills' "newest power couple."

You'd laughed. Stiles had beamed like he'd just won an Oscar.

But things got... complicated at lunch.

You were halfway through your sandwich when she showed up. Talia Morgan. She was new, pretty, all glossy lips and effortless charm—and she slid into the empty seat next to Stiles like she belonged there.

"Hey, Stiles," she purred, twirling a strand of her honey-blonde hair around her finger. "I heard you're off the market."

Stiles blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, yeah. Kinda—yeah. I mean, totally. Very off. Extremely unavailable."

You raised an eyebrow, setting your drink down. "Very off the market," you added, slipping your arm around his shoulders with a sweet but deadly smile.

Talia didn't flinch. "That's cute. I just didn't think you were the type to settle down."

"Oh, he settles very well," you said, leaning in so close that your cheek brushed his. "Don't you, babe?"

Stiles choked on his juice. "Yup. Settled. Like a rock. Solid. Completely grounded."

Talia gave you a tight smile and turned her attention back to Stiles. "Well, if you ever become... ungrounded, you know where to find me."

She got up and walked away, hips swaying with entirely too much confidence.

You stared after her, your jaw clenched.

Stiles leaned in, voice low. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," you said quickly. Too quickly.

He tilted his head, studying you. "You sure? You kind of crushed that juice box like it insulted your whole family."

You looked down. Yep. Completely obliterated.

"Okay, maybe I'm slightly annoyed."

Stiles smirked. "Because she was flirting with me?"

"No," you said a little too fast. "Because she did it while knowing you were taken. That's just disrespectful."

"Fake taken," he reminded gently.

You rolled your eyes. "Still counts."

For a second, silence fell between you. Then Stiles reached out and brushed his fingers against your wrist.

"Just so you know," he said quietly, "if this was real, you'd be the only one I'd look at."

Your heart stuttered.

You looked at him, searching for a hint of a joke in his eyes—but there was none. Just soft, honest sincerity that made your stomach do a flip.

"Good," you said, your voice quieter than you meant. "Because fake or not, I don't share."

He laughed, but it sounded a little breathless. "Noted."

You looked away, but your hand stayed on his. And for the first time, you wondered—really wondered—what it would feel like if none of this was pretend.

And maybe... maybe it didn't have to be.