Fake

It seems most appropriate that I begin this story with how much of a failure my high school dating life was, as this is the story of the worst of them. When it came to relationships, I was never the lucky one. In fact, by my senior year, I was known for this "curse" (which, might I say, did not have a positive effect on my ability to track down good boyfriends). My friends would always joke about it-- in good humor, of course-- but they all knew it was 100% true. I guess that was why it wasn't hard for them all to believe it when I was dating Cole Ramsey, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

I suppose my first boyfriend, if I can call him that, was in kindergarten when a boy pulled my pigtails and kissed me-- a very memorable first kiss, I guess, considering I still remember it. We held hands for a week or so but eventually, without a word, he found another girl's pigtails to pull. For the rest of that year, all he did was kick sand in my face when I would play in the sandbox at school. This is basically the synopsis to my entire love life. I'm sure I must have done something to him or said something to make him bully me the way he did, but I never could remember and so only resented him for being so mean.

Now, I guess I can't say all my boyfriends were horrible, because my first real boyfriend had more good points than bad ones. It was my first year of high school, and his name was John Wilson, a sheepish, snag-toothed, silly acquaintance of mine. Despite being a lanky kid with curls clumsily falling into his eyes, he was cute, and so, when he asked me out --stuttering and stammering all over the place-- I naturally said yes.

At the same time, I was becoming fast friends with a girl named Delilah Poppers. She was always happy and bubbly, being a short four feet 8 inches tall, and she had an amazing sense of fashion and an even more amazing sense of humor. I knew instantly I had found my best friend. It was impossible not to love her. And I wasn't the only one to feel that way.

From the moment I first introduced my boyfriend to my best friend, I had a vague sense of what was to come. They were fast friends-- even faster than I had been with Delilah-- and we became an un-separable trio-- but they a little more un-separable. John never acted unfaithfully or insinuated anything, and Delilah never did anything to harm our relationship-- heck, Delilah even got herself a boyfriend during the time I was dating John (a man that John visibly detested for the length of his relationship with Delilah). Even then, I knew what the two were secretly thinking. I wasn't good in science, but I could see the chemistry. On the day Delilah and her boyfriend broke up, I broke up with John and told him to go ask Delilah out, because they clearly were meant to be together. It hurt, but I got over it. We're still the un-separable trio to this day-- believe it or not.

Three or four unimportant boyfriends followed John. One of them tried to separate me from my friends, trying to take up all my time and change who I hung out with. One of them tried to pull a fast one on me on our second date. The third cheated on me. And the last one dated me only so the rumors that he was gay would die down (the rumors ended up being true, as I found out after our break up). Looking back, I can't imagine why I had been attracted to any of them in the first place.

After them, there was Marshall, and as he remains my most hated ex-boyfriend, I won't even bother to go into detail about our awful relationship. The only upside to dating him was to be introduced to Brad. They knew each other because they were both basketball players, and he was practically worshiped by the girls as a god. And he was godly. Even I, in a relationship at the time, couldn't help but drool over him a little. His figure reflected the fact that he excelled in sports, and he could easily grace the cover of some teen magazine. His parents were distinguished international businessmen, and he was aiming to follow in their footsteps. His grades were far better than mine, he was much more popular than I, and he spoke 3 languages fluently. How could anyone resist this hunk?

After my nasty breakup with Marshall, Brad talked to me a lot, much to the envy of other girls. At first, I was convinced it was because he felt bad for me as he told me on multiple occasions that he had come to see me as a very good friend. Either way, I couldn't help but fall in love with him, and over time, I realized that I wasn't the only one to feel that way. Out of all the girls who desired him, he asked me out.

Not counting my "fling" with the pigtail-puller in kindergarten, my relationship with him was the shortest, but it was by-far the best one so far. I felt like a princess, and Brad treated me as such. My classmates, too, seemed to look at me like royalty. I was, after all, the girl who stole the god's heart. However, I would be lying if I said being placed on this pedestal wasn't awkward, and the antics of envious Brad-worshipers weren't tormenting, and that my paranoia for having such a idolized boyfriend wasn't overwhelming. Needless to say, even when I was lucky in love, I was still unlucky. And, of course, it all went wrong from there.

It was the last period of the day, and by far the worst part: Physics, my worst subject. I tapped my pen on the table, anxious for the bell to ring so that I could meet up with Brad for our date. It was our one month anniversary, and we had made plans to go out for dinner. The slower the clock seemed to tick, the faster I tapped my pen, echoing a solid thack, thack, thack on my wooden desk as the rest of the class worked on the homework our teacher had assigned. I continued this until the pen was ripped from my hand. It made one last snap before it was return to my desk in two pieces, making a pool of ink on my untouched homework.

I turned my head and stared in disbelief at the culprit, Cole Ramsey, who snickered and looked back down at his paper. This demon and Brad apparently had some kind of bad history, which caused Cole to constantly take it out on me, quite like my kindergarten boyfriend turned bully. This was not the first time he did something like this, but usually his abuse was reserved to verbal insults.

"That was my favorite pen," I hissed.

Cole shrugged, his cold, unemotional, electric-blue eyes hardly giving me a glance before they turned down to his paper. "Have the prince buy you another one, then. Your boyfriend's got enough dough for that much," he said. "Hell, have him encase it in gold-- or platinum, maybe. I wouldn't be able to break it if it were platinum."

I shook the ink puddled out of my pen onto his paper with a irritated huff, leaving small ink blotches over his work. He glared dangers into me, and I recoiled at his expression alone. He stood, and I flinched, thinking he was going to hit me or something; instead, he crumpled both of our papers, tossing both of them, and grabbed a new one from the teacher, who seemed disinterested in the class going-ons at this point. I hadn't even started my, nor did I plan to, so I didn't care that he didn't grab me one as well; however, I almost felt bad that he scrapped his nearly complete homework-- not that it appeared to be taking him long to re-do it.

Cole didn't say anything else to me during class, which was fine.

Brad appeared at the threshold of the door a minute before the bell run, his eyes finding mine almost instantly, and he flashed his killer grin. I could hear girls swoon behind me. Rather than wait for me to come out, he walked in as the bell run, grabbing me in his arms for an enthusiastic hug and kiss.

"Hello, Beautiful," he said.

I giggled, placing my hands on his chest. I realized my mistake instantly and pulled my hands away, showing the ink smudges I had left on his crisp, clean oxford shirt. I gasped, and Brad looked down at his now ruined shirt. His brows furrowed and a flash of anger hit his face, though if he was mad at me he didn't show it. He held my wrist and flipped it over, not forcefully, showing the ink stains on my hands.

"Thisbe, What happened?" he asked.

I turned my eyes to Cole, and Cole in return chuckled softly enough so that those who didn't know would think it was a cough.

It was hard to get Brad mad, but Cole didn't have to do anything but breathe to set him off. He turned to Cole with a fierce look, bring a hand down on his desk. "Were you bothering my girlfriend, Ramsey?" he demanded.

Cole grinned mischievously. "Why no, of course not," he said, his voice oozing a hard sarcastic tone. "God forbid I touch the princess."

"Hey," Brad growled. I'm sure Cole's nickname for me made him all the more agitated. "Leave her alone, alright filth."

"Filth?" Cole said, pondering the insult with a chuckle. "That's funny because I'm not the one with shit on my shirt."

"Are you looking for some broken bones?"

"As if you could take me."

Brad took a step forward, and Cole rose from his seat. "Tell me. What is it that makes your head so big? Because it certainly isn't a brain."

"Says the guy who flaunts his Mercedes around school. You don't call that a big ego?"

"Cole, Brad, Thisbe," the teacher called out, not looking up from the book he had been reading most of class instead of teaching. "I will not have fighting in my class. If you wish to have your lover's quarrel, please take it outside my classroom."

Brad growled, steaming (almost literally). Still holding my wrist, he pulled me, unintentionally rough, out of the classroom and away from Cole, who was chuckling over the teacher's comment of a "lover's quarrel". We walked down the hallway in tense silence until I was afraid his grip would give me a rug burn.

"Hey," I said, halting.

He turned, frowning, and when he realized what he was doing, he let go of me and sighed. "Sorry," he said.

I smiled, thought I'm sure Cole had caused my expression to remain looking irritated. "It's fine," I said, rubbing my wrist.

And it totally was fine-- minus the enormous amounts of grief I got just for dating Brad. It wasn't just Cole who picked on me, it was only just the one Brad knew about. I never told him about the endless misfortunate events that made me almost resent school. There was the incident two weeks prior where some had gone into my locker and stolen 20 dollars out of my wallet. And there was the time last weekend at a football game I went to where some girl bumped into me, and I tripped down several bleachers and spilled my nacho cheese in my hair. There was also this week where some girls left an insulting note in my homeroom desk. And yesterday, where someone snapped the zipper off my bookbag.

My smile faltered, but I don't think Brad noticed.

He gave me a kiss. "I really am sorry," he said again. I hugged him and assured him that I was alright, though I had yet to convince myself. "I have a basketball meeting, but afterwards, we'll go on our date, okay?" He winked. "I haven't forgot."

I smiled, nodding, and he walked off.

I suddenly felt exhausted, and not just the kind of after-school-exhaustion that was normal for me. I leaned against the wall as some girls from my physic class passed my, scoffing at me. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore them, but the smile that had been on my face was wiped away. There was a heavy feeling in my throat and a sting in my eye. What's wrong with me? I wondered to myself, as I thought more and more that maybe it was this relationship that was making me so exhausted.