Page 11 of Heartstruck

Jared

The door swings open, and I’m met with a neutral expression glazed on Alli’s face. “Hi, Jared.”

“Popcorn for your thoughts?” I say, holding two plastic bags filled with snacks and drinks.

Alli’s lips twitch into a reluctant smile. “You really came prepared.” She opens the door wider and lets me cross the threshold into her apartment. “Enter.”

“Enter? Why do you make it sound like this is a palace?”

“Because you’re in my kingdom, so enter,” she says with a mock regal wave.

She leads me into the living room, where the TV is paused. “I was thinking about watching a movie, but that feels too basic, like the stereotypical Netflix and chill vibe.”

“Nothing wrong with a little bit of Netflix minus the chill.” I say, setting the bags on her dining table.

At first sight, I catch stacks on stacks of notebooks and assignments.

I glance around her apartment and take in her cozy haven.

It looks like all six libraries—at least—threw up in her dining room.

The walls are covered in posters and art prints, some of which scream Serena: bold quotes and vibrant colors that feel a little too “motivational” for my taste.

Fairy lights zigzag across the window, the same ones she used to string up for at-home movie nights, glowing golden against the clutter.

The coffee table, too, is a battlefield of open textbooks, highlighters, and a mug that probably hasn’t been washed in days.

Stubbornly alive succulents line the windowsill, adding a touch of green to the chaos.

“I like to get a head start on my assignments.” She argues like she knows I’m judging the tornado in her apartment

“Don’t we all?” I start digging into the bags and take things out. “So, snacks.”

“Yes, the whole reason I invited you over.”

“And not for my overwhelming charm?” I feign a broken heart with a hand over my chest. “Allison, I thought we were friends.”

“You’re wrong, we’re fake dating, which, by the way, thanks for telling Serena before me. I got interrogated like she was the FBI.”

I wince, a twinge of guilt creeping up on me. I was supposed to talk to Alli first about how we’d handle telling our friends, but it just slipped out. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

Alli rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s fine, really. You kind of relieved me by telling her. I don’t think I could’ve kept a straight face explaining this whole situation.” She exhales and recasts her focus to the snacks. “So, what do we have here?”

I pull out the snacks one by one, setting them on the coffee table. “Popcorn, chips, chocolate, and some sodas. And for dinner, I’m thinking of Chinese food. Figured we’d need a sugar rush to get through our date night.”

She laughs, grabbing a bag of chips. “This is not a date.”

“But we’re in a fake relationship, we need to warm up to doing this in public.”

“That reminds me”—she plops a couple of chips in her mouth—“we should set some rules.”

“Rules? This isn’t a job, Allison.”

“Stop calling me Allison like you’re my father.”

“Okay, Allison , we don’t need rules to fake date.”

“Uh, yes, we do. I’ve known you for years, and I respect you too much to not know what your boundaries are.” She walks over to the couch and gestures for me to sit down.

I peel a textbook off the armrest and set it on the table. “Alright, Alli girl, hit me with it.”

“First, no kissing unless it’s absolutely necessary,” she says, settling down on the couch beside me.

“Define absolutely necessary,” I say, throwing her a teasing smirk.

She levels me with a look. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“We’re fake dating, Alli. We can’t just skip over the couple stuff. Come on, a few kisses aren’t going to ruin our friendship.”

She rolls her eyes while putting the chips on the table. “Okay, fine. We can kiss, hold hands, and all that jazz when we’re in public. But if it’s just us two, keep your hands to yourself.”

I hold out my hands in defense. “Noted. What else?”

“We need to agree on a backstory. How we got together, why we’re together, all that.”

“Sounds fair. What are you thinking?”

“I told Ser that we decided to give romance a chance,” she pauses like she’s deciding on what to say, “and that you’ve been there for me.”

When she says I’ve been there for her, I feel a swell of pride, but there’s also something else—a jumble of emotions I can’t quite place.

It’s true, I have been. We’ve known each other forever, and, hell, we’ve even seen each other through puberty and stayed.

The idea of us giving romance a shot isn’t entirely outlandish.

It’s almost too easy to play along with.

But navigating this fake relationship is going to be tricky. We’ve got to make it believable, and that means trusting each other more than ever.

Without letting my real feelings get in the way.

“Okay,” I say, nodding. “I can work with that. What’s next?”

Alli pauses, her expression turning serious. “Just one more thing. If either of us starts feeling… anything real, we need to talk about it. No hiding.”

“No bullshit. Got it.” I say, leaning forward to grab the remote. “Now, let’s get this show on the road.”

“No, no, no,” she protests, placing her hand over mine as I hold the remote. I feel a quick jolt of energy at the touch, but I shake it off as she continues, “I bought a new puzzle the other day. Want to help?”

“Since when did you start doing puzzles?”

Alli jumps up and heads down the hallway to her bedroom.

A moment later, she returns with a box—on the way, sliding books shamelessly onto the floor—then drops it onto the coffee table with a soft thud.

She sits cross-legged on the floor, her hands already pulling open the flaps.

She looks over at me, raising an eyebrow, and tosses the box cover into my lap.

“You going to help or just watch me do all the work?” she teases.

I drop down next to her, eyeing the puzzle box—cherry blossoms. “Of course you’d pick this one.”

Alli shoots me a side-eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve always had a thing for cherry blossoms, remember your quinceanera ?”

She slaps her forehead. “You remember that thing?”

“That thing”—I forcefully remove her hands off her face—“was your coming-of-age party. It was lit.”

“Lit for a bunch of fifteen-year-olds, sure.”

I laugh only enough for her to do so, too. “Your dress was pink.”

“Like awfully pink.”

“Cherry blossom print. And cherry blossom tablecloths and cherry blossom plastic cups. You loved cherry blossoms.”

Alli’s gaze gentles, and she glances at the puzzle pieces before us. “Yeah, I guess I always have.”

Something about the way she says it makes my stomach do this weird flip. Not what I was expecting. Where’s the usual sass? The eye roll? I should say something—make a joke, tease her—but for some reason, I don’t. Instead, I just watch her, fingers absently turning over a puzzle piece.

We start sorting through the pieces, our fingers brushing occasionally as we find the edges and corners.

The silence between us isn’t awkward. It’s chill, interrupted only by occasional remarks or laughter.

The TV buzzes quietly in the background, but we’re lost in the puzzle, completely focused on each other in our own little world.

“I thought the edges would be the easiest part in a two-hundred-piece puzzle.” My eyes are everywhere on the table, scanning up and down for this Godforsaken pink and blue piece that’s supposed to be the edge of the flower against the sky. “Fuck, where is this damn piece?”

Lo and behold, the empty space of the very last edge piece gets filled in by a petite hand. “Fresh pair of eyes opens up a whole new perspective.”

I glance up to see Alli’s smug grin. “Show off,” I mutter, though I can’t help a smile.

She shrugs, enjoying her victory. “Just doing my part.” She picks up a puzzle piece, turning it between her fingers before glancing at me—then away just as fast. “So, how are we going to handle telling people about us? Are we supposed to hard launch ourselves on Instagram?” She clears her throat like she’s trying to sound casual, but the question lingers a little too long.

I laugh lightly. “We can keep it lowkey. Let people find out naturally. It’ll be more believable that way.” I finish one section of the blue sky. “What does hard launch even mean?”

Alli laughs, “There’s a soft and hard launch. It’s a new thing that girls are doing where you post ambiguous photos of the other person in a way to say you’re taken, or you just post the person’s face anyway. Soft and hard launch.”

“Well, I think we’ll have to do a hard launch soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“As my fake girlfriend, you have to come to my games.”

Our first home game is in a couple of weeks, and I’m already feeling the burden. Joining the team as a sophomore felt like a shot in the dark, especially with the limited starting spots for wide receivers. But somehow, I snagged one.

“We need you to be a playmaker, Collins,” Coach said after practice last week, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “A guy the fans and the team can count on. This is your shot—don’t waste it.”

No pressure, right? It’s not just about catching passes—it’s about showing I deserve this spot, proving I can handle everything that comes with it. The pressure’s real—performance, expectations, all of it. And with Alli maybe sitting in the stands, well… that just cranks the whole thing up a notch.

Her eyes flicker with surprise. “Oh, right. Your games. I could come to a few, depending on my schedule.”

“Great, I’ll bring you a jersey.”

She raises an eyebrow, a skeptical smile curving her lips. “There’s no way I’m wearing your jersey.”

“All the other girlfriends do it.”

“Well, I’m not them, nor am I your real girlfriend.”

Her words hit a bit harder than I expected, but I let it slide. “One of these days, Allison.”

She just smirks, reaching for another puzzle piece.

I watch her for a moment before leaning back on my hands. “Can I ask you something?”

She’s mid-reach for a puzzle piece when her hand hesitates, fingers hovering over the pile. Her gaze flicks to me, curious. “Yeah?”

I hesitate, then glance at her. “Why don’t you cheer anymore? Serena’s doing college cheer, and I always thought you’d be more into it than her.”

Alli pauses, her fingers idly sorting through the puzzle pieces. “I don’t know… I guess I just fell out of it. When I came to college, everything changed, and I needed to reprioritize my life. Cheerleading was something I loved in high school, but I didn’t really see a place for it here.”

“Really?” Alli was top-tier at cheer growing up. In high school, she was the best girl on the team; it used to be everything to her.

She shrugs, a hint of wistfulness in her eyes. “Yeah, it just didn’t fit into my life anymore. Like this damn puzzle piece that should go right there.” She points at a spot in the puzzle, frustration bubbling under the surface.

I lean in, eyes scanning the remaining pieces. A smirk plays at my lips as I spot the one that fits. With a quick flick of my fingers, I slide it into place.

“Found it.” I meet her gaze, satisfaction lacing my voice.

“What the fuck? I didn’t see that piece! Where did it come from?”

“Gotta see things from a different perspective,” I say, grinning.

We continue piecing together the puzzle, the conversation flowing effortlessly between us. Lighthearted stories, inside jokes, and laughs fill the air. The evening stretches comfortably around us as we finish the puzzle.

“Job well done,” Alli says, her voice laced with amusement as she takes a sip of the Gatorade I brought over. She leans back against the couch, her eyes scanning the completed puzzle, a satisfied smile on her lips.

“Not bad at all,” I agree, feeling accomplished. I never realized how much fun puzzles can be. I might have to invest in a new hobby other than making matcha.

Alli lets out a soft laugh, sprawling out on the couch as she stretches her arms above her head. “I have to admit, this was actually kind of fun.”

“Yeah, it was,” I reply, a smile playing at my lips. “But I should probably head out before it gets too late.”

“Right,” Alli nods, standing up from the couch. “Thanks for coming over. It was nice.”

I make my way to the door, her footsteps just behind me, but something about tonight feels different. There’s a warmth in my chest, familiar but unsettling, and I can’t put my finger on it.

“Goodnight, Alli.”

“Goodnight, Jared,” she replies from inside the apartment.

With one last look, I step out into the cool evening breeze. As I make my way down the hallway, thoughts of the game next week and the role Alli will play in it swirl in my mind. I can’t help but feel excitement and trepidation stirring about what’s to come.

Just as my foot hits the stairwell, Alli’s soft humming drifts through the crack in her door.

I pause, mid-step, something inexplicable twisting in my gut.

It’s a fucking hum. Nothing special. But everything about it hits me harder than it should.

It pulls me in, like it’s been anchored inside of me all along.

Her laugh earlier replays in my mind, and the way her eyes caught mine all night like she knew something, or maybe I did.

Soft, teasing, but there was a fire in there that had me wanting more.

I rub the back of my neck and force myself to keep moving, shaking off whatever the hell this is.

Still, the sound sticks with me, wrapping around my thoughts like a whisper I can’t ignore.

One thing’s for sure: this fake relationship is starting to feel a lot more real than I expected.

And as I head back to my place, I find myself hoping that whatever happens, it’ll be worth it.