12

"Okay, so we established that it's totally impossible to turn you into a goddess within a short time period," Lucas rolled his eyes. "After all, you've spent the first 16 years of your life making out with fictional characters."

"Not true," Cassie's face reddened. It totally was. True.

"You need to toughen up, missus. I don't want you to go falling in love with every guy who kisses you. That won't be good for your heart."

"But how do you guys do it? You guys can sleep with each other and not get... totally affected like that," it still baffled Cassie at how very casual all the Elites were acting towards one another. She knew the girls whom Desmond had shared a bed with, and she knew Lucas wasn't a prude either. But none of them seemed to be as bothered with it as Cassie was. They all still hung out with each other and give each other friendly hugs, no big deal.

Lucas paused, and for a short second, Cassie could see a little bit of frown forming on his smooth forehead. Maybe he wasn't as casual about it as he let on. Maybe he was, despite his demeanor, a little bit affected.

But then that little flicker of hesitation vanished as Lucas giggled. "You know, most of them weren't that good."

He put a hand on her lower back, Cassie flinched at the intimate gesture. "Gosh, woman, I can't even touch you without seeing you make that lovey-dovey expression? You needed to get laid, like, five years ago."

"I would be thirteen," Cassie protested.

"Exactly."

She couldn't help laughing. "You're crazy, Lucas."

"Thank you for the compliment."

She laughed again.

"In the risk of you falling for me, and let me remind you, it would definitely be unrequited," Lucas added, much to Cassie's annoyance, "I propose a new idea."

"Such generosity, Mr. Montgomery."

"Handsome, amiable, and very kind. I won't want to limit myself to just one girl," he winked. Cassie liked that he always managed to joke without being mean to himself. All her life, Cassie always thought that being funny meant being self-deprecating; finding flaws to make fun of yourself. But this could work, too. This self-elevating thing. Though obviously not a lot of people could pull it off.

"We need to find you a pretend-boyfriend," Lucas said.

"What?"

"I'm calling backup."

Five minutes later, the whole room was filled with pretty people. Tyra was of course here, wearing her bored expression and standing tall with her Blahnik. Her two good friends were here, too, giggling and talking close to each other.

"You were great at the lunch table, Cassie," one of them said to me. "You didn't mumble yourself into oblivion and that's already saying something. Most 'normies' that we invite just end up humiliating themselves."

"Yeah, we actually made a little game of it, you know. We would invite a normie once in a while and then silently laugh as they slowly regretted every word that came out from their mouth. It's actually funny."

"Of course it's Desmond's idea," Tyra said without looking at us. From the looks of it, she deemed her fingernails were the most interesting thing in the room. "Trust him to come up with the most sadistic things to do to people weaker than him."

"I'm not weake-"

"Guys, Cassie needs a fake boyfriend," Lucas said. "Not August. First, he's like the only person in the world who thinks Desmond is a nice baby. Second, he's too dumb and being around him will make me feel murderous. I hate stupid people," Lucas groaned. "Not me, either. Desmond's targeting me enough already and I want to have a good night sleep."

"We can don out some of the B-listers. What do you feel about dating a sophomore?" one of the girls said.

"I'm-" Cassie stuttered. She actually didn't know what to think. Up until a month ago, the concept of dating someone was something alien to her. Something that happened to other people, not her. And now there she was, in a room full of people picking Mr. Right for her.

"No, Tyra, you're not thinking big enough. This guy has to have strong social standing. He has to be at least a senior, and he has to get into Desmond's nerves."

"Someone masculine, then. But not the athletes because Desmond is friends with all of them," Tyra tipped her chin.

"Doesn't wear glasses. Fit. Six pack if possible. Desmond is still working on his abs, he can't seem to move past four packs," one of the girls observed. She stole a glance towards Tyra. "Sorry. Couldn't help noticing."

"I wouldn't even care if you sleep with him," Tyra said, but Cassie could tell that her eyes glinted mischievously a little bit. Tyra might hate her longtime boyfriend with a burning passion, and given the chance, she might want to murder him in cold blood, but she was still possessive about him.

It was, Cassie decided, a tumultuous relationship. She didn't know if she wanted to have that kind of relationship with anyone, ever.

After a while, the guys started shouting names. Most of them Cassie were familiar with; they were the top notch guys that went to their school. All handsome, fit, and amiable. It made her grew anxious, because never mind having to pretend dating them; what if they didn't want to fake-date her?! What if she wasn't good enough for them to fake-date? What if they didn't want to hold her or act like they were in love with her? After all, she had spend the last three years getting ignored by them. Why start caring now?

"Oh stop having that face," Tyra's voice boomed from behind. "You're not a bad looking girl, Cassie. And since you're here not because of a scholarship, you came from a good, affluent family. Plenty of boys will want you, if only you'd stop looking like you hate yourself very much."

Cassie gulped. She didn't like that these Elites managed to read her like a goddamn open book. But then again, she had only spent the last few years communicating mainly with people from the internet; people who were more awkward than her, people who never went out; people less privileged than her. It made her feel safe, knowing that she was the most socially knowledgeable one out of the bunch.

But right now she was surrounded with the creme of the top, and she had to get used to feel stupid and uncomfortable.

"Then I want someone dark haired," Cassie demanded. The whole room listened to her. "It's my type."

For a few seconds, no one said anything, and Cassie had a downing realization that maybe they were all ready to laugh at her. For demanding something like that. For acting as if she really was one of them.

But then the discussion started anew, and it was more lively than before.

More names were thrown out, before finally, Tyra held up her hand.

"I know the perfect candidate," Tyra said. "Tall, brooding, sets Desmond off like a candy being offered to a special needs toddler. He's dark haired, too, and will be absolutely down to anything that will make my dear boyfriend suffer."

Tyra let her words lingered in the air for a few moments, savoring the intense anticipation that built inside the room.

And then she said that name:

"Tristan. Tristan Arrington. Desmond's 'evil' step-brother."

And Cassie never wanted to nope out of a project faster than this.