Reputation [Brallon]

Lies

[hi finals are over & I'm free until January ninth bc we got out way later than usual. I was taking tests 3 days before Christmas.]

After a few days, I'd trained both Dallon and myself into the habit of holding hands wherever we went. On the way to the cafeteria, in and out of the parking lot, class to class, and so on and so forth. It was a very accomplishing moment when he grabbed my hand instead of me having to reach for his. That was when Josh and Tyler had both started shooting funny looks at me when Dallon was distracted by a video of a cat on social media or any notification from the zillion games downloaded to his phone.

I couldn't care less, though. My plan was working better than I ever could've imagined. Soon enough, Pete would read my name in the newspaper again, and I'd prove him right like I claimed I would. Well, unless it was an anonymous prank. That didn't matter. He'd know it was me because I'd have to tell him about it to make sure I hadn't made any errors in my planning.

I'd rested my head on Dallon's shoulder halfway through lunch, and he continued his conversation with Josh about the essay requirements in English class like nothing had happened. It was the essay I'd undoubtedly failed but had pretended to genuinely try to complete, which was also bullshit like every sentence I typed out. I still got smiles and high-fives for an attempt.

"...and the conclusion was pretty straightforward like usual," Dallon nudged my side as if he'd expected me to have followed along to everything he'd said, "right? I think you got that far. We had two days in class to finish it instead of the usual one."

I hadn't gotten that far. I wasn't even close. I'd finished about a sentence to each paragraph before resorting to solitaire for the remainder of the class period for both days, which had felt like an eternity. "Close enough, I guess. You finished though, right?" I let my finger's trail up and down his arm for a few seconds, dropping back down to his wrist. Tyler shot me a dirty look.

"Mine was only four paragraphs instead of five," mine was roughly four sentences, but he didn't need to know that part of my story, "but I think I did okay. It wasn't too bad of an assignment. I've been given worse."

Every part of my brain that wanted to scream for hours about how the assignment was sent directly from hell to the education board, was shoved down my stomach and digested by acid forcefully poured into my stomach by every teacher I'd ever known. But I'd been watching my words; any slip up could jeopardize every second I'd put into converting Dallon to the dark side without anyone's suspicions butting in and ruining everything.

I sneered and clung on to him a little tighter. "Sounds tough. I bet you got it, though. You're way better at English than I am."

His posture straightened more after that, pride seeping through his fingertips and radiating from his lips as they brushed against my forehead ever so lightly. "You're doing perfectly fine in English class, Brendon. A lot better than everyone expected, too. Even the principal was surprised when he caught wind."

I was not doing fine. It was purposeful, but I was not doing fine. Prior to the beginning of seduction, he would've flat out told me that my improvement was slower than a turtle with nowhere to go, because it was true. All of it was part of my plan, though. "But you're so good at essays and whatnot. It's not fair." I traced the pads of my fingers over his skin and felt goosebumps wherever they brushed.

He just smiled and pressed his lips to my temple instead.

🖍🖍🖍

The day had ended, finally. It'd felt like years and by the end of history I could've sworn I'd started growing a beard if something. I fell asleep in almost every class, and half my homework in every period was unfinished and Dallon was slightly upset. Then I got upset because he suggested doing homework together so mine would actually be completed for once.