He Said He Only Pretended to Love Me, So I Left Him Chapter 01
That September, while we were taking an Amtrak train to college, Jace Hayes, the guy next door who was traveling with me, posted an Instagram story.
[Happy today.]
I’d had a crush on him for eight years, and finally going to the same university made me happy too. But I held back my excitement and just liked it.
A moment later, the post vanished.
I froze, still trying to process it, when an identical story appeared.
[Happy today.]
Taking a chance, I liked it again.
That story disappeared just as fast.
When it popped up a third time, I turned my head and looked at Jace sitting right beside me. Quietly, I pulled my thumb back before I could tap the like button.
His happiness was real. So was the fact that he did not want me interacting with his post.
So I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t like another one, ever again.
***
Seeming to feel my gaze, Jace glanced over and smiled. “What’s up?”
I looked away and forced a twitch of a smile. “Nothing.”
After I turned, I couldn’t stop myself from checking his Instagram profile. What I found hit me like a gut punch—every single post of his I’d ever liked had been deleted and reposted.
“Lena, you said you had a bunch of school questions for me. What were they?” He stopped what he was doing and leaned closer. I quickly pressed my phone flat against my palm, dropped my eyes, and said flatly, “I forgot.”
I’d had tons of questions a minute ago, but after seeing how many of his posts he’d erased and reposted just to wipe my likes, I didn’t want to ask him a single thing.
He’d once told me that grown-ups don’t wear their emotions on their sleeves. Now, staring at those deleted posts while looking at his smiling face, I believed him.
When we got to campus, he led me to the freshman check-in table like he’d done it a thousand times.
“Whoa. Thought you were skipping orientation. Why are you here so early?” Carla Simmons at the table was already trading jabs with Jace as she processed my paperwork.
Jace grabbed my campus ID and slid it into a cardholder without even looking up. “None of your business. I show up when I want.”
Carla noticed the way he handled my card. Her gaze sharpened, and she asked, her voice suddenly testing, “Oh my god. Jace, actually being nice to someone? Who is she?”
Jace didn’t answer. He just turned his eyes on me.
He used to always call me his neighbor. I never wanted to be that, so every time, I’d correct him—childhood friend. Two years older, but still. After a while, it became this silent rule that I’d be the one to answer that question.
But this morning’s Instagram drama was still buried in my chest like a splinter. After I signed my name, I looked up and, out of pure spite, said, “We’re neighbors. My parents asked him to bring me.”
Deep down, I was praying Jace would correct me the way I used to correct him.
He didn’t say a word. He just lowered his gaze and turned his head. If you’d looked close, the corners of his eyes even tilted up a little. He was relieved.
Relieved I hadn’t said anything that would make things awkward for him. Relieved we were only neighbors.
But his relief humiliated me. The realization sat heavy in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Carla’s tense expression eased. She smiled and held her phone out to me. “Add me. If there’s anything you can’t ask him, you can always ask me.”
I crushed down the ache in my chest and nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
On the walk to my dorm, a message from her came through. [Carla Simmons]
I was typing back my own name when Jace—who’d been dead silent in front of Carla—suddenly brought that topic right back.
“‘Neighbors.’ That sounds so cold. You used to say childhood friends.”
I tucked my phone away, still simmering, and said it on purpose. “Did I? Doesn’t make much difference.”
Those exact words used to fall out of his mouth all the time. Now, hearing them from me, he actually froze. But only for a second. Just a second.
At the entrance to my dorm, he reached for my suitcase. “I’ll carry it in.”
I immediately shoved the suitcase back and shook my head. “No need. My room’s on the first floor.”
“Then the steps outside—let me help with—” His words cut off midair when he saw me already lift the luggage by myself.
Before I stepped inside, he called out again. “Once you’re settled, I could show you around campus?”
I pointed at my phone, my throat so tight it felt like I couldn’t swallow. I forced a smile. “No need. Carla already said she’s free later and can show me around.” Then I added, “Thanks for today, Jace.”
Jace stood there frozen for a moment. Then he recovered and gave this helpless little laugh. “Lena, why are you being so formal with me today? First ‘neighbor,’ now ‘Thanks.’ Since when are we strangers?”
