Essel's Pov

"Goodness, Essel, please don't tell me you're planning to wear that to school today," Ella exclaims, with a horrified expression.

"What's the issue?" I inquire, glancing at my outfit. "I think I look perfectly fine."

"I'm sorry, Grace Essel," she says, her typically cheerful demeanor replaced by a stern gaze. I flinch at the mention of my full name.

"You shouldn't wear sweatpants and a T-shirt on the first day of school. People might assume you've been out of touch and don't care about fashion or trends."

I look at her with bewilderment. "It doesn't matter to me," I say.

She sighs. "Well, you're not supposed to show that to others."

"What's the problem?" I inquire, feeling even more bewildered.

"Because," she stammers. "You're just not. Now go put on these." She tosses a pair of high-waisted black ripped jeans and a white crop top with words on it at me. "Or I'll ensure that we arrive late to school."

"Why would that even be a concern for me?" She is well aware of the reasons why it would bother me.

She smirks at me. "Because despite your dislike for school, you have this strange fixation on attendance that I could never quite grasp. I mean, if you despise school, why would you care about being punctual and never skipping a single day–"

She constantly attempts to persuade me to wear crop tops and jeans, even though I prefer to wear something else, by using the threat of being late. However, I always refuse and end up going to school in sweatpants and T-shirts because I am more determined than she is and I will never give in.

"I'm not a tomboy or someone who dislikes the clothes-don't get me wrong, the clothes are cute, I just never feel like wearing them.

"I know," she admits reluctantly. "But this year is an exception."

"And why is that?" I tease her, confident that whatever she has in mind is bound to fail."

"How long have you two been in here?"Mom walks into my room with Dad following closely behind.

"It's not important," Dad says casually. "The important thing is that you're going to wear whatever Ella is trying to convince you to wear."

"She's asking me to wear these." I show the jeans with tears running all the way up the thighs.

Dad's expression reflects confusion as he draws out the word "And?" It's clear he probably thinks I'm too dense to understand that he doesn't care.

I may not be the brightest, but still. How rude."Are you not supposed to be objecting to me wearing them because I'm your daughter and no boy should be able to see even a hint of my thighs or stomach?"

Pardon my assumption, but I believed that was typical fatherly behavior.

Ella giggles, capturing everyone's attention.

"Apologies."

"Look, dear," Dad says in a careful tone. "It's just... sometimes it's hard for me to believe that you're a girl."

"Wow, that stings, Dad."

I shift my gaze back and forth between my parents and Ella before I speak. "To begin with, I don't understand why my gender is being doubted just because I do all those things. And secondly, I still refuse to wear the clothes."

They all moan together.

"Here's an idea, darling," Mom suggests.

"You allow Ella to choose your school and school event outfits, while still dressing however you like otherwise, and in return, I'll give you a half-off discount on the amount you need to put in the swear jar for the entire first month, last month, and the month right before Christmas break.

"I almost said it, but then I reconsidered after thinking about what my mom just said."

"Okay," I reply sharply.

"Alright," Mom says. "Just to confirm, we're in agreement, right?"

I briefly ponder if I should rethink my decision. Allowing Ella, of all my friends (not that I have many others besides her and Winner), to plan my outfit every day could easily be one of the worst choices I could make.

"We're in agreement."

Finally, the weekend had arrived.

As the bell rang, I stayed seated, hoping to avoid the rush of students heading for the door. Once the coast was clear, I wearily waved to the teacher, got up, and made my way out of the classroom and into the dim hallways.

Friday, the last school day before the weekend, was a cause for celebration. School had been a dreadful experience, especially when endured alone. I let out a heavy sigh as I opened my locker and tossed my books inside. Looking at my reflection in the small mirror attached to the door, I noticed my brown hair tied up in a ponytail, revealing my face. My two brown eyes stared back at me, and I couldn't help but sigh at the lack of effort I had put into my appearance every morning.

"You can continue searching, but it won't alter your appearance," a voice taunted from behind me. I spun around to confront Comfort Sanders, also known as the girl who had tormented me from the moment she could speak in complete sentences. I loathed her, but I couldn't deny that, despite her artificial appearance, she was the epitome of what I wanted to look like. She was stunning. Her golden locks flowed elegantly down her back, framing her slender jawline. She was dressed in a floral blouse and a knee-length pencil skirt, showcasing her slim legs, and she completed her look with ballet flats. Her face was delicate, and a natural tan graced her complexion. She exuded the aura of a Mediterranean goddess.

"What are you looking at?" Comfort snapped, though there was a slight smile on her face. It was clear from her eyes that she knew I was envious of her. She enjoyed the idea that I would do anything to resemble her. Instead of stopping the bullying, it only fueled it, giving her the opportunity to display her beauty to someone she saw as "pathetic" like me every day, intensifying the envy I harbored.

Comfort let out a small chuckle to herself.

"You're really pitiful," she said in a high-pitched voice, glancing down at her nails. I felt tears welling up in my eyes at her words and I scanned the surrounding area. Students stood by and observed as the situation unfolded - most just walked past and ignored my distress, but a few looked on with empathy. Still, none of them spoke up for me. This was always the case. No one came to my defense. No one would be my savior. But I refused to shed a tear.

I had made a promise to myself that I would never give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me appear weak or vulnerable to their teasing. I was determined never to show any signs of breaking down.

Comfort frowned at me, as she always did when I didn't react like her other targets. Then, she unexpectedly reached out and knocked the rest of the books out of my hand. She smirked, pleased to have made her mark, and walked away, the sound of her shoes tottering as she left.

Everyone averted their gaze from me, clearly disinterested. The source of entertainment had departed, and I found relief in no longer being the center of attention. As I gathered my books, I observed where their focus had shifted and couldn't help but roll my eyes in response.

In the hallway, the school's 'golden boy' strolled alongside his friends. A group of girls subtly smiled in their direction, undoubtedly vying for his attention, while the guys greeted him with smiles as if he were their closest companion. In fact, everyone seemed to wish to be his best friend.

I noticed a black-haired boy standing to the left of the 'golden boy', with bored grey eyes and a permanent scowl etched on his features. His name was Stephen. I observed him looking at the people around them with disdain. He casually dismissed any girls seeking his attention and instead focused on texting on his phone, occasionally glancing up to deter anyone trying to approach them.

I averted my gaze from the absurd scene before me and concentrated on retrieving some books from my locker. It was the final day of school, and if I didn't bring my books, I wouldn't have anything to study over the weekends, leaving me with nothing to do. The only thing I did outside of school hours was study, and... I shook my head to dispel my thoughts. I closed my locker with a bang and turned around, emitting a small startled sound at the sight before me.

Standing right in front of me was The 'Golden Boy', with his hands tucked into his pockets, a smile on his face, and his gaze fixed on me. I blinked.

Essel's Pov

Once more, I blinked. The boy remained in place, but his smile had been replaced by an expression of impatience. It dawned on me that he was waiting for me to speak. My mouth opened and then closed again. I struggled to find the right words.

What was I meant to say?

Certainly, he was expected to initiate the conversation. After all, he approached me. But being Michael, he expected others to engage with him. I held back from rolling my eyes and cautiously looked at him, meeting his gaze directly. The color of his eyes slightly caught me off guard. From afar, they appeared to be a deep ocean blue, but up close, they were a striking pale blue with a hint of grey around his iris.

I stood up stiffly, quickly averting my gaze when I realized I had been staring for too long, and to my disappointment, he had a amused look on his face, smirking at me. He clearly thought I was 'checking' him out.

I coughed to break the awkward silence and exhaled sharply through my nose, causing it to flare slightly. He observed my every move with great interest.

"May I assist you?" I stated sharply, with a touch of annoyance creeping into my tone. He appeared oblivious and began to speak, then hesitated and glanced around. A crowd had gathered around us, and I despised it.

Michael glared sharply at the crowd, clearly annoyed. Slowly, the crowd began to thin until only Comfort was left. She gazed at me with intense hostility in her eyes. I returned her stare, mirroring her level of animosity.

"Will you be my girlfriend?"he said.

I felt like I was losing my mind. My feelings were in turmoil - I was experiencing shock, anxiety, confusion, fear, and many other emotions that my mind couldn't even process what was happening anymore.

Was this some kind of prank? It was hard to believe that he was being serious, especially with something like this. He was known as the golden boy, the player, the bad boy, and any other cliché name you could come up with for the 'IT guy' at school. So for him to suddenly ask me this question, I reacted in the way any normal person would in that situation.

"What?!" I exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of a few people nearby. He must be out of his mind if he expected me to agree to that.

"He chuckled at my response. "No need to worry, it won't be genuine. We'll just pretend to be dating."

"Why?" I inquire with curiosity, returning to speaking at a normal volume. I wonder, who would come up with such an idea?

"Don't you think that if we act like we're dating, your ex boyfriend will see that you've moved on and hopefully leave you alone? Isn't that what you're hoping for?"

I fell silent for a moment. He had a point - I did want Latif to stop trying to win me back, but that didn't mean I was willing to do something as crazy as dating Michael Andoh. "What's your motivation for wanting to help me? What do you get out of it?" I inquired.

"My mom keeps nagging me to find a stable girlfriend instead of jumping from one girl to the next. If I make her believe I have a girlfriend, maybe she'll finally stop trying to set me up and pressuring me to settle down." He said with a sly grin on his face.

I can't help but roll my eyes. It figures that it would be something like that. He's always had a reputation for being a player, and he's not about to give that up so easily. Mr. Player wouldn't want to put a stop to his conquest of girls by settling down. "What made you pick me?" I inquire, attempting to understand the situation.

"I thought of the idea because you were the only person I knew who would benefit from this plan," he replied.

"We can start dating, and I guarantee that within a few months, you'll find yourself falling for me. If you do fall in love with me during that time, then I win. But if by any chance you win, I'll give up drinking, smoking, and my player lifestyle," he declares with a strong sense of determination in his eyes, speaking quickly and loudly in one breath.

I blink, surprised to still be looking at him with a clear expression of shock on my face.

It's amusing that he believes I would agree to pretend to be in a relationship with him and fall for the most infamous boy in school.

"I understand your intentions," he murmurs softly, so only I can hear.

"What's that, handsome?" I inquire softly.

He leans in closer, his lips almost touching mine. It's a bit too close for my liking, definitely encroaching on my personal space.

"Revenge," he murmurs.

"You're quite the comedian, Michael," I chuckle, taking a step back from him.

I expect him to join in the laughter, but he remains serious and looks at me with the same intensity.

"Latif betrayed you, Latif betrayed me," he says with little emotion on his face, "We pretended to date in public just to spite him, and then I added a twist. If either of us happens to fall in love with the other in the next few months, then they lose. Wouldn't you like to be the one who possibly turns the bad boy into a softie?"

"Do you fear that you might lose and end up falling for me?" he teases with a fake pout.

I burst into a hearty laugh and shoot him a glare.

"Come on, it would take the end of the world for me to fall in love with you," I chuckle.

Taking a pen from my blouse pocket, he writes his phone number on my arm. I roll my eyes as he does it, not bothering to stop him. After finishing, he tosses the pen back at me and grabs his jacket before walking straight out of the Hallway.

"Call me," he yells, disappearing in a matter of seconds. "Call me when you're ready for the challenge."