It's Not What It Looks Like

ꜰɪᴠᴇ | ꜱᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ᴜᴘ

"Well, yes," Mena reasons, because she does reckon that a throat punch from the head cheerleader would hurt a great deal. "But I was rather thinking something along the lines of emotional distress. A punishment that fits the crime."

Silena raises an eyebrow, and finally sets her book aside.

Mena counts her victories, even if they're small.

"Basically," she explains, "We'd have him think everything is going according to his plan. I act smitten, you act jealous, and then bam!" she claps her hands together, and Silena winces. "As soon as he makes a real move, you and I pretend to be an item. Not only does he lose the bet, but he loses you, as well. Double yikes."

"Sounds fun," Silena says, and Mena smiles brightly, her hope rising alarmingly fast. "But no."

The smile falls right back down, but her hope was built to handle more than just one hit.

"What? Why not?"

Silena clicks her pen, and motions to the chemistry homework splayed across her desk. It does look a slight bit intimidating.

Mena leans forward and looks at her notes.

"I can help with that," she says, with a casual shrug. "Not to brag, but I'm kind of great at it."

Silena narrows her eyes, but her guard seems to be slowly breaking down.

"I don't know.."

Mena falls back onto the bed, a hand to her forehead.

"Ah, nitko ništa ne zna. Krhko je znanje! Možda je trag-"

"How would it even work?" Silena interrupts, not even paying a little bit of acknowledgement to Mena's frequent dramatic displays. "Would we have to pretend that we're... Together, or whatever, all while you're here?"

Mena purses her lips, thinking about it.

She's vaguely aware that she must look a slight bit ridiculous: making a face characteristic for deep thought while laying on the bed, the strands of her hair going in every possible direction and her sweater riding up her belly. Silena seems to think so too, because she stares at her with a strange look in her big blue eyes.

As soon as Mena looks back, though, she quickly averts her gaze.

"I mean, we could? But we could also just do it for a week, and then have a mutual breakup," Mena pauses. "Well, a fake mutual breakup."

Silena, still staring at the fluffy white carpet of her room, clears her throat.

"Wouldn't it be," she scrunches her nose up. "I don't know. Weird?"

Mena shakes her head.

"I don't see why it would."

Silena seems dubious, and when she thinks about her current position, Mena can see how she isn't exactly the most credible spokesman on the matter of weirdness.

"Are you even a lesbian?"

"No, I'm Croatian."

It's an automatic response, but when Silena looks at her in complete confusion, she adds: "Hah. Sorry. I'm bisexual, actually."

Silena tilts her head, and just studies her. Mena smiles in a way she hopes reads as an incredibly appealing combination of irresistible, trustworthy, and convincing.

Finally, Silena looks away.

"If I were to agree," she compensates for the contents of her words with a stern frown. "We'd have to set some ground rules."