Fake Dating The Hot Billionaire Heir

Grace's POV

”Ms. Thompson?...Ms. Thompson!” the class teacher shouted, but her voice had slowly lowered into a low hum.

Her words replayed in my head. "Mr. Hunter's grades have been slipping; I believe you are best to tutor him,” she had said a few seconds ago. She blinked, a smile curling at her lips as she waited for my response.

It felt like a nightmare.

Jace Hunter was the son of one of the wealthiest contributors to Beacon High School, but he had the lowest grades in class, and everybody knew it. 

He was different from the other students; he didn't talk much, he didn't keep any friends, he missed classes, and yet he managed to have multiple girls drooling over him.

Except for me, there was something about him that made a chill run down my spine; his cold demeanor was enough to freeze a whole room. 

"What do you say?” Mrs. Weathers asked, and I caught a few strands of her blond hair close to her left eye; she blinked and slid it off. "Well?”

I gulped; my throat was unforgivingly dry. "W…why me?” I stuttered.

She smiled in my head. “What do you mean why? You are the top student of your class.”

I fumbled with my hands that were clasped before me; the only way I could afford to attend a school such as this was because of my grades. I had survived on scholarships all my life; now it was only a few months until high school, and I still hoped for a scholarship.

“Extracurricular activities will be good for your profile when you apply for college,” she explained. 

I lifted my eyes so that our gaze met. I had hoped to do everything in my power to get that scholarship and had studied hard, but helping Jace study?

I didn't like him at all; I didn't like any of the wealthy kids. They would give such a condescending look you would think you meant nothing. 

They were bullies, every single one of them; they got joy from it. They didn't care how much it tore you on the inside; as long as they got their laughter, that was all that mattered.

Last week in history class, Regina Michaels, one of the top wealthy students at the school, put gum in my hair. I had to trim my hair; thankfully it was just the tips, and my hair was still long.

The teachers couldn't do anything after I reported so many times. The students' families were too powerful to be messed with, so they looked the other way. 

But extracurricular activities were a good idea; I had to forget my discomfort and do it for my own benefit. “Thank you for the opportunity, Mrs. Weathers,” I said, forcing a smile. 

She nodded. “You should go get a shower, dear.”

I looked down at my sweaty gym uniform and then back at her. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Come to me after school to get your notes ready." She shouted as she turned and began to walk off. 

I moved to the girls' bathroom; thankfully Regina wasn't in gymnastics. "Ew, it makes people sweaty and disgusting. Why would I want that?,” she asked in disgust when the coach asked if she wanted to join. 

It was a relief for me and the other girls; she didn't miss a chance to bully anybody. I walked into the girls' bathroom; it had a large space with multiple stalls to shower in.

It was empty now; the girls had gone out to play football. They knew nothing about the game, but they went for Jace. I still didn't understand what was so good about watching a sweet boy run round a field.

I grabbed a white towel from one of the counters, and I moved into one of the stalls. I shut the door behind me. I slid my clothes off and hung them on the door; the tiled floor was cold.

I sucked in a hair's breadth of relief and wrapped my hair up in a bun; it wasn't usually this quiet. Regina would usually be in a different stall taunting. “Ugh, what stinks of poverty?" she had said when I walked in. 

I did my best to not let it get to me, but I would end up soaking my pillows with tears at night. 

Maybe I was inferior.

Maybe I didn't matter after all. 

I turned on the shower and let the cold water drop down my body. How I wish the bathroom were always this quiet, but I couldn't wait for Regina to be done before I came; I couldn't afford to miss classes.

I shut my eyes and tilted my head up; suddenly, the main bathroom door pushed open. I heard the loud clicking of heels as somebody walked in. 

My eyes sprang open. Could it be who I thought it was?

“I knew something stank in here?” Regina giggled. 

My heart dropped; I thought she was on the field. I quickly turned the shower head off and turned to face the stall door. “What are you doing here?”

"Well, I came in here to do my makeup, but it turns out there's something even more fun here,” she cackled.

Before I could say anything, I watched my clothes and towel yank off the door. She laughed, “Good luck getting out of there naked."

"Regina?” I let out shaky gasps. "Regina!” I shouted, but it was too late; she had walked out and slammed the door behind her. 

My hands shook uncontrollably; I stumbled backwards and let my back touch the cold bathroom wall.

I'm…naked? 

In school?

My cellphone wasn't in here; I couldn't call anybody to get me clothes from my locker.

She would come back, right?

Oh no, who was I kidding?

Regina wasn't the type to show sympathy. The students would soon return to their dorms, and I would be stuck here?

I placed my back against a wall and slid down it; my body splashed against the little pool of water on my hair, which curled out of its bun and stuck against my skin due to its damp texture. 

I placed both palms against my face and sobbed.

Just like I did every night on my pillow. 

Just then I heard the door open. Footsteps followed; they were slow. I listened, but it wasn't Regina; I couldn't hear heels.

A hand knocked on one of the stalls; no answer. The person walked forward and knocked again on another; still no answer. I stood up from the ground. “Who is that? Kate? Natalie?” I called out.

The person didn't answer; footsteps drew towards my stall. I looked up as a black fur coat flung against the door.

My brow rose. “Who is that?"

The person said nothing; I heard footsteps as the person exited the place.

I reached for the fur coat; it was soft, and it looked and smelled expensive. Who had done this?

I pulled the fur coat into the tall overfur coat. I felt unworthy of holding something as luxurious as this, but who had placed it here? It was obviously one of the rich kids, but none of them were nice enough to do something like this. 

What if I got in trouble for wearing it?

I gripped the fur coat tight in my hand. 

Did I have a choice?