𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 3.7k

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𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐌, Gwen was still shocked when Miguel Diaz showed up at her doorstep bright and early on Saturday morning. She was in the bummiest outfit anyone at school had probably ever seen her in, and he was fully out of breath and holding his bike upright beside him like evidence.

"Why"—sharp gasp for air—"do you live so far up"—another gasp, followed by fumbling for an inhaler—"in the hills?"

Gwen frowned. "Why did you ride a bike here?" she shot back in an incredulous manner.

"I don't have a car!" he sputtered, before pulling a puff from his inhaler.

Her eyes dropped from his face, a smirk tugging on the corner of her lips. "Oh, my god... Is that thing real?" she asked, a taunting lilt in her voice.

"What? Is what real?" Miguel huffed frustratedly, finally just letting the bike clatter to the ground so that he could hunch over and try to catch his breath.

"The inhaler." She nodded towards the piece of medical grade plastic in his hand. "I've never seen someone actually use one. Only, like, dorks in movies."

Miguel's head lifted towards her, his mouth flattened into a firm, unamused line.

Gwen's lips slanted sideways as she sucked her teeth. "Sorry... nerds in movies?"

He stood back up to his full height, wiping beads of sweat from his brow. "Can I just come inside, please?" he asked in defeat.

"Oh! Yeah, sure." Gwen opened the door for him, stepping out of the way to usher him in. When he stooped down to grab his bike, Gwen made sure to add at the last second, "The bike stays outside though."

"I was just moving it off your front steps," he said through gritted teeth.

Well, I can already tell this is going to go super well, she thought sarcastically. But Gwen didn't say anything out loud that time; her hands just shot up defensively. If they could just make it through the fake relationship without a double homicide at the end, she would consider it a success.

Upon stepping inside the Villanuevas' home, the very first thing Miguel noticed was Gwen's enormous Jericho The Villain shirt which hung down to her bruised knees. He snorted and took this as his opportunity to tease her for once. "Are you a big WWE fan or something?"

Gwen blinked, hard. She couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. "Yeah, huge," she replied with ample amounts of sarcasm just in case he was joking around. She turned on her heel and started leading Miguel through the halls of her house, fully aware that he was a few paces behind because he kept getting distracted by various family photos or their more ornate decorations. Still, she strolled nonchalantly into the den where her parents sat, sipping their morning coffee. "Mom, Dad... This is Miguel. He's here to work on a project for school," she lied easily, casually.

Miguel filed in shortly after, suddenly feeling very put on the spot when he was met with the expectant eyes of both of Gwen's parents. He immediately recognized the man who took up nearly two seats on the couch, with his deep tan and enormous, tattoo-covered arms that held the morning paper out in front of him. Miguel had seen him fight on TV more times than he could count and had had his law firm's annoyingly catchy jingle stuck in his head for days at a time, yet had no idea that he went to school with his daughter. Although he looked far more relaxed and balder than Miguel remembered him, he was certain that it was none other than Jericho The Villain. You don't just mistake a guy like that for anyone else.

The woman who was curled up beside him was completely different, yet no less intimidating. She was donning a pretty, pink, silky pajama set and her perfectly manicured, red nails were cradling a steaming coffee cup. He had seen her picture out in the hall, a younger version of her with crowns and sashes. But the age that had accumulated in the lines on her face did not subtract from her beauty. It only added to it somehow. She seemed more confident, more sure of herself now than she did in those old pictures—even when she was caught off guard by a complete stranger in her living room.

Jericho looked over one of his bulging shoulder muscles at Gwen. "So, does Miguel speak?" he asked, in the exact same indifferent, taunting tone his daughter frequently used. Miguel saw her mom cut her eyes and subtly elbow him in the ribcage, prompting a lighthearted grin to appear on his threatening features.

"It's very nice to meet you, Miguel," her mom spoke up, straightening her posture. "I'm Chloe."

"Um... Hi," he said, dumbfounded.

Officially in hostess mode, Chloe continued on. "Would you like coffee or water or anything? We have sparkling, still, mineral..." she trailed off.

Before he could answer, Gwen had already started herding him toward the grand staircase in the corner of the room. "He's fine, Mom. We should probably... get to work, anyway."

"I mean, I wouldn't mind some sparkling-" Miguel attempted to get out, despite being literally shoved out of the room.

"Fine! Some sparkling water would be great, thanks!" she said, talking so fast it was barely decipherable. Gwen really didn't want to give Miguel the opportunity to stand around and let her parents figure out that they weren't actually working on a school project at all. If they found out why he was really there, it would inevitably turn into a whole conversation about honesty and integrity... and she just didn't care. She was on a mission—honesty and integrity be damned.

"Remember, keep the door cracked! At least an inch!" she heard her dad call out as the two of them thumped up the stairs.

"Got it!" Gwen shouted back. But the very tips of Miguel's ears turned pink at the mere insinuation. Did her parents have any clue how far out of his league she actually was? He wanted to turn right around and tell them there wasn't a chance in hell for a guy like him, but he kept his lips sealed. That would have been far more embarrassing than informative.

The first step into Gwen's bedroom was not at all like he had expected. He wasn't sure what exactly he was expecting—maybe an evil lair or medieval torture devices of some kind—but it was very... normal. Pompoms hung on the wall, clothes strewn across a fuzzy pink rug, star-shaped string lights, a desk piled high with AP textbooks and stacks of homework. When Miguel turned around to say something about the normality of it all, Gwen was right in the middle of measuring out a gap in the door that was exactly an inch. As close to breaking the rules as she could get without tipping over that ledge.

"So, you said we had some logistics to figure out?" Miguel started, crossing his arms. Then, he uncrossed them when it felt awkward. Then, he tried to slide his hands into his pockets, but that felt even weirder. So, he just settled for his arms hanging limply at his sides. All of this happened in the seconds before Gwen turned to face him.

"Boundaries, expectations... Stuff like that," she nodded, sidling past him to get to a notebook at her desk. "I've already come up with a couple of them myself, but I wanted to get your input, too."

Miguel swallowed thickly, trying to clear up his suddenly dry throat. "Oh, okay. Cool," he nodded, watching as she flopped onto her bed. She sprawled out on her stomach and started flipping through her notebook while lightly tapping her gaudy, pink fluffy pen against her cheekbone. "Where do you want me to–"

"Sit wherever," she answered, flippantly waving a hand.

After a quick glance around the room, Miguel decided on pulling her desk chair up to the edge of the bed. He spun it around so he could prop his elbows against the back of it and plopped down, eager to no longer worry over what to do with his arms. "So, what'cha got?"

Gwen spun the notebook around for him to see. "The first and most important one is just regarding the actual 'dating' part," she explained, using finger quotes for emphasis. "I think we should try to go on at least one date every week. This'll give us the chance to get pictures, potentially be seen together by classmates, yadda yadda... The good stuff that'll make this extra believable."

"Okay, sounds easy enou–"

"And you'll be the one paying."

"Wait, what?"

Gwen rolled her eyes like it was obvious. "You're the boyfriend here. That's, like, your whole job on dates."

"They're not real dates, though!" Miguel snarked. "Besides, how is that fair, anyway? You're the one with a stupid, fancy house in the hills with your stupid, fancy car and shit."

One of her brows lifted at that. "Funny that you should mention that... You've brought us to our second and third points, which will bring back some justice into your pitiful, little date-funding life," Gwen said with a sneer. "I'll be picking you up for school and taking you home from now on. So, no more bike rides for you."

Then, it was Miguel's turn to roll his eyes. "That doesn't solve everything, y'know? It's still–"

"You also get to sit with me at lunch every day."

That shut him up real quick.

He leaned back in his seat a bit, chewing at the inside of his cheek. "Every day?" he clarified with a tight expression. This had clearly turned the tables, forcing him to really consider her offer.

A smug grin appeared on her lips. She knew she had him then. "Every day."

He studied her silently for a moment, mulling over the plan she had proposed. The dates wouldn't have to be expensive. And only once a week? For all the social privilege he would get for merely being associated with her, it almost seemed like a steal. He knew he had tried to ask previously, but Miguel was still dying to know what she was getting out of this exchange. After all, there was no way she was just helping him out of the kindness of her heart.

He recalled how she had reacted when he asked, though. In fact, it was the only thing keeping him from asking again. So, instead, he said, "You've got a deal. But only if Demetri and Hawk get to sit with us, too."

Her eyes widened for reasons unbeknownst to him. He had no clue he had just sweetened the deal so much in her favor. "Fine. Whatever," she said with an overdramatic huff. "What about you? Do you have any ideas? Any other stuff you wanna add?" she questioned, flipping the notebook around to face herself again.

Miguel pondered it, trying to think of anything that might make their fake relationship that much more believable. His mind began rifling through all of the couples at their school, searching for a common thread between them. When his features suddenly went still as the aha moment hit, Gwen knew he had something good. "You guys get bows or whatever for cheer, right? Like, personalized bows?"

Her eyebrows furrowed, but the intrigued smile never left her face. "Yeah, we have our monograms on them... Why?"

"Do you actually need it for anything?"

"Just the Homecoming game."

Miguel's lips quirked upwards at the corners. "So, you wouldn't miss it if I started wearing it around on my backpack?"

This is what eventually got Gwen's smile to fall a little. However, she still managed to look amused somehow. "You thinking about accessorizing, Diaz?"

Miguel rolled his eyes, but a playful chuckle escaped him nonetheless. "No. Not exactly," he muttered. "I was thinking it was more like an outward possessive-type thing. Like in those old movies where a girl wears her boyfriend's letterman jacket or the guy wears his girlfriend's scrunchie on his wrist..."

"And you're gonna start wearing my cheer bow?" Gwen finished.

Her teasing caused Miguel's head to drop, his chin nearly bumping his sternum. His voice was thicker than it had been when she spoke again. "It's fine if you think it's stupid. I just thought–"

The resignation written across his face forced the words out of Gwen's throat before she could even register their pass through her brain. "It's not stupid!" she exclaimed, lurching forward. When his gaze lifted to meet hers again, she felt a little like a deer in the headlights. Empathy wasn't exactly her strong suit, but she couldn't smother the tightness that had gripped her chest when she saw his disappointment. "I... like it... Your idea," she mumbled.

His eyes softened slightly. "You don't have to lie. We can just come up with something else."

The tops of her cheeks felt hot and prickly. "I'm not lying," she gritted. "I'm just..." She paused, trying to pinpoint just how honest she was going to be. A slight grimace morphed her face, but she powered forward. "I'm just not great at letting other people have good ideas."

Miguel's lips parted, a stale breath passing through them. "Oh..." He wasn't sure what to say. "Well... Other ideas don't take away from your good ideas. I mean, you came here with three important ones already lined up."

Gwen's mouth twisted and pursed. "Thanks," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She busied herself with writing Miguel's idea down in her notebook. She took her time sculpting each letter, not having any desire to look up into his waiting eyes again. "Do you... have any other ideas?" she asked, in a tone that might have sounded shy had it been anyone else. On her, it sounded clipped.

She saw Miguel's shoulders shrug out of the corner of her eye. "We could make each other our phone wallpapers?"

"That's cute," she commented with the ghost of a smile, already scribbling it down in the rulebook. "Adding onto that, though... Don't even think about posting any pictures of me without my consent. I don't want a single ugly photo of me anywhere that someone might see it."

"Okay, okay. No ugly pictures," he said with a snort of laughter.

She looked up only to glare at him through her lashes. "I'm serious, Miguel. And I promise, you don't want to find out how serious I really am," she warned.

His gaze lowered. "Got it," he nodded, solemnly.

Gwen became absorbed with the list of rules in front of her again. "Now, just because of the nature of our relationship, I feel like we need to address the elephant in the room," she declared, sitting up and crisscrossing her legs beneath her. "I know you're doing this whole thing just so you can get back with your ex, but I do not want to have to hear from someone else that you've 'cheated' on me. To everyone else, this is a real relationship, and if you cheat on me with Sam LaRusso, that will put a mega dent in my reputation," she explained. "So, if you're feeling like she's ready to take you back, please just come and talk to me. I obviously get it and it won't hurt my feelings, trust me."

Miguel hesitated. His eyebrows furrowed in thought. "I think I'd like that same rule to apply for you," he admitted. "You have way more prospective... suitors than I do. And I don't want to be the guy with a girlfriend who's flirting with everyone but him."

Gwen's chin tilted upwards, her heart rate kicking up unexpectedly. "That sounds fair to me."

When she diverted her attention in order to start documenting this new rule, Miguel leaned forward just a little, snooping as she wrote it all out in her flowery handwriting. "So, what are we at? Six rules?"

"Yup," she nodded, loudly popping the 'p' at the end. "I think I have our seventh, though."

"Oh, yeah?"

"It's probably the most obvious, but we probably shouldn't tell anyone. Like, anyone. Not even Sensei Lawrence," she pointed out.

Miguel tilted his chin up just like hers—only way more dramatically. "That sounds fair to me," he echoed, playfully. She scoffed and dropped her eyes so that she could write down the final rule in their collection. "So... I guess that's it, then?"

Gwen put the finishing touches on their list and glanced up at him with a dash of uncertainty. "I guess so..." she said. The uncomfortable clench of her stomach came seemingly out of nowhere, a wave of disappointment washing over her. She hadn't expected to have as much fun as she had, just going back and forth with Miguel Diaz of all people.

He pulled in a sharp breath of air and sat forward, again propping his arms against the chair in front of him. "I mean, we should probably get to know each other a little better, right?" he checked, watching her closely. "It would be a little suspicious if we were dating and I didn't, like... know your birthday or something."

A crooked smile formed on her lips at this. Gwen slowly closed the notebook and slid it off to the side. "April 10th, 2002," she stated. "You?"

"June 12th, 2002," Miguel replied, followed by a beat of silence and a smirk. "You cradle robber."

This pulled a scandalized gasp from her lungs. She turned around and grabbed a pillow, delivering a hard smack against the side of his shoulder. "I cannot believe you just said that!" she chastised.

"Ow!" His hands flew up to block his face. She hit him a few more times for good measure, just ensuring that she got her point across. But it didn't put an end to Miguel's cackling laughter. "Okay! I take it back. I take it back!"

Gwen settled down enough to sheath her weapon, tossing it behind her so that she could flop back on the bed. "You're also easily defeated in a pillow fight. Good information to know," she commented with a smug grin. She settled in, resting her arms behind her head. "So, how come I've never seen you around school before?"

"My Mom, Yaya, and I just moved here from Riverside last year," he shrugged. "What about you? You're from here, I guess?"

"Yeah. My parents met here, got married here, started their family here... I think it would be weird if we lived anywhere else," she said. Her eyes flickered between his face and hunched posture. "It's just you, your mom, and your Yaya, then?"

Miguel's smile was small, but genuine. "Just us," he answered with a slight nod. A fiery impishness relit in his stare as a new thought passed through. "What's up with your parents, though? You just weren't going to mention that your dad is a WWE wrestler?"

Gwen laughed out loud at that, throwing her head back. "I thought you knew! I thought everyone knew!" she chided. "My mom was also Miss California, but that doesn't get talked about nearly enough."

"Jericho The Villain and Miss California?" Miguel repeated, his jaw agape.

"It's not as crazy as it sounds, I promise," she snorted. Eager to move along past the standard shock and awe, Gwen sat up, tucking her feet beneath her. "Let's do a rapid-fire sesh. Just a bunch of quick facts we feel like the other person needs to know. It really doesn't have to be anything crazy. Baseline stuff only, okay?"

Miguel shook himself out of his starstruckness and blinked up at her. "Okay..."

"Okay. And... go!" she said, eagerly.

His mind went blank for an instant, but he wrangled it quickly. "I was... born in Ecuador. Moved to the United States when I was two."

"I'm absolutely terrified of birds. My Lola's pet parrot bit me when I was a kid and I never looked back," she told him, causing Miguel to stifle a chuckle at the image that appeared in his mind. "Hey, it's not funny!" she snapped.

"No, no. It's not," he reassured her. "I mean... I can't drive yet. So, that's pretty embarrassing, too."

"Explains the bike," she noted, talking more to herself than to him. She pondered for a second, her head tilting as she tried to come up with another fun fact. "I'm a vegetarian. I have been since I was, like, five or something."

Miguel sucked a breath in through his teeth. "Ooh, that's rough, buddy," he sighed, earning an unamused look from the girl across from him. "I'm a lifelong Dodgers fan."

"Ooh, that's rough, buddy," Gwen retorted. When an appalled expression started to form on Miguel's face, she was quick to add, "Kidding. I literally know nothing about baseball. They could be the best team in the world for all I know."

She could practically see Miguel deflate right in front of her eyes. "You had me there for a second. Not gonna lie," he confessed with a breathless chuckle. His eyes trailed around her room, in search of something to continue the conversation. The multicolored controllers of a Nintendo Switch on her bedside table were the first thing that caught his attention. "You game?"

She followed his gaze and felt her throat tighten. She hadn't meant to leave that out, but she also hadn't been expecting Miguel to show up as early as he had. "Um, a little," she lied, tearing away at the inside of her bottom lip. "Just, like... Stardew Valley and Super Smash Bros and shit."

No mention of the Dragon Quest XI or The Legend of Zelda games also on there.

"No way!" Miguel gasped, still impressed by her gaming history nonetheless. "Who do you main in Smash?"

"Pikachu. Always Pikachu," she replied, quickly and honestly. "What about you?"

"Easy. Mr. Game & Watch is my guy," Miguel said. He studied her closely, his excitement fading into awe. "I never would have guessed that you played."

"Honestly, I'd like it to stay that way," Gwen chuckled. "I've never told anyone I play before and I hadn't really planned on changing that any time soon."

The smile on Miguel's face had slipped away, but remnants of it were left behind in the darkness of his eyes. "Hey, my lips are sealed," he told her, pretending to zip his mouth shut and toss the key over his shoulder.

And for some reason, Gwen actually believed him.