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Chapter Text

The girl who walked into Professor Brink’s office was cute. It was unfortunate that that was Jordan’s first assessment, because then they immediately took in everything else about her: smiling, a little over eager, a little too starstruck at meeting them. A freshman. A brown nosing, wanting the status without wanting to do the work freshman.

“No, I made the call, I’m his TA,” Jordan said, ready to ignore her and forget she ever even walked into Brink’s office.

“Hold on, this was your decision? Who are you to reject me?” Her voice got louder.

Jordan internally sighed. Fucking freshmen. At least this one didn’t seem to have a daddy who had donated the library. “His TA.”
“Jordan!” Brink appeared from his office.

Jordan glanced over and was shifting into their male form in a milisecond, barely registering the “What the fuck?” from the freshman.
Jordan flicked the bullet to one side, hoping that Brink’s appearance will end this diversion with the freshman.

“Goddamn, that’s the fastest draw I’ve ever seen,” Brink said.

Jordan shrugged, fingering the hole in their shirt. “You’re gonna have to buy me a new shirt, professor.”

“Sorry, champ. So whatta we got?”

Jordan started to go through Brink’s messages, but is the freshman completely laser focusied in on Brink. The freshman is a real freshman, that’s for sure. It seems like she has every page of Brink’s book memorized, and her absolute belief in what she’s say… Jordan begrudgingly thought that she might not have what it takes in Crimefighting, but damn she’s going to fight like hell wherever she does wind up.

When she leaves, Brink shook his head. “Kids.”

Jordan nodsded, a little stiffly. “Right.”

“Make sure I don’t have to talk to any more of them, Jordan.”

The freshman— Marie is relentless. She shows up almost daily, quotes from Brink’s book on the tip of her tongue, long soliloquies about what being a hero really means.

Jordan begrudgingly allows themselves to think about what they would have been like if they hadn’t gotten into Crimefighting. Would they have been in Brink’s office everyday, ranting at a TA who really didn’t care or would they have given up by now? They wanted to believe they would have done what Marie was doing, arguing from their hearts and refusing to hear no, but they didn’t know they had ever believed in themselves like she believed in herself. She was wrong and stupid for putting in this much effort when she should have been making connections in the Freshman class, obviously, but Jordan was almost catching themselves admiring her.

“Look,” Jordan finally said after the fifth visit from Marie. “It’s not going to happen. I rejected you, I’m the first person who makes the cuts, but Brink has final say and he rejected you. I don’t think quoting a book Brink didn’t even write will get him to let you in.”

Marie blinked. “Brink didn’t write his book?”

Jordan snorted. “Of course not. He’s busy, which you might have an idea of if you actually went to class.”

“I go to class,” Marie snaps.

“We have security cameras. You’re out there like five hours a day.”

Marie sighed and crossed her arms. “Look, it’s just that I didn’t come here to do anything but Crimefighting. I want to make a difference, and I’m not gonna be able to do that in Performing Arts. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

Jordan sighed. “Classes are full for the semester, no way you’re getting off the wait list.”

Marie started to speak, but Jordan held up their hand. “Wait, I’m not done. You can reapply next semester. People drop, they aren’t cut out for it. Keep your nose clean and get an actual social media presence and maybe, maybe Brink’ll reconsider. But it’ll take more than a speech to get in, you’ll need an actual resume.”

Marie started working her lip in between her teeth, thinking through what they’ve told her.

Jordan went to put back in their earbuds, but Marie put her hand on their hand.

“Thank you,” she said.

Jordan shrugged. “Everything I told you was on the Crimefighting website. Maybe you’d know that if you read the actual website.”

Marie snorted. “Alright then.”

Jordan watched her leave with a slight sense of regret. Marie was annoying, but it might be slightly irritating not to have an excuse to talk to her anymore.

The number two always felt like it was taunting Jordan. They had worked so hard to get where they were, but it was a constant reminder that they weren’t enough. Or too much.

Luke had left to join the Seven… and Andre had seamlessly slotted into the number one spot. He hadn’t even wanted it. Jordan probably wouldn’t even have number two if Brink didn’t believe in them so much.

Another ranking, another number two.

“Fuck.” Jordan punched a tree, the sonic blast from their hand causing it to splinter and ultimately fall over.

“Damn.”

Jordan turned to see Andre standing behind them.

“What’s up with you, dude?” Andre’s expression was somewhere between his usual, casual facade and actual concern.

Jordan swallowed the lump in their throat. “Rankings dropped again.”

Andre casually took out his phone. He hadn’t even looked. Of course.

“Fuck, still? I’ve skipped like half my classes.”

Jordan shook their head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m bi-gender. I could be even better than Homelander, and they still wouldn’t give a fuck. I’m not marketable.”

“Fuck the rankings. We both know you’re twice the person as me. Literally, dude.”

Jordan snorted and looks up at the sky. “Dude, you can’t fuck up your way out of this, and I’m working my ass off for what you have. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, but you don’t get it. You don’t even totally get—“ Jordan shifts into their male form— “this. I mean, I know you’re cool with it but it’s just like… fuck!” Jordan kicked at the splintered stump.

Andre grabbed their shoulder. “You’re the smartest person I know. I mean, except for Cate, but she’s more like— scary. But you, you know what you want and you go for it. If anyone can figure out how to make people see that you’re the only option for number one, and, more importantly, get me the fuck off that podium, it’s you. Yeah, it’s all marketing, but you practically breathe that shit. You got this.”

Jordan shifted back to female. They take a few breaths and then turn to face Andre. “Thanks.”

Andre patted them on the shoulder he was holding them on. “No problem. Now come on, we need to go see how much weed I need to smoke to stop being number one.”

Jordan snorted. “If smoking weed was enough to get you off the rankings, you’d be off by now.”

Andre shook his head. “Yes, but have I really been trying up until now?”

Andre’s genius idea, generated while completely high off his ass, is that they need to have an actual planning meeting to get the Jordan the number one spot. Jordan tried to say no, but the next morning, bright and early at 11 am, Cate and Andre had shown up, Cate with a whiteboard she had probably stolen from somewhere.

“I could always persuade the board members to switch you two,” Cate mused, stretched out lazily on Jordan’s bed. “Seems like it would solve a lot of problems.”

“And in a week when it wears off?” Jordan asked, one eyebrow raised.

Cate shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Andre stared at the whiteboard, which only has “Convince America to stop being so bigoted?” on it. “Maybe we could have Golden Boy do some kind of PSA with you? Actually shift America’s perspective on you?”

Jordan shook their head. “I don’t think Luke saying I’m cool is actually going to get anyone to like me. The world might be a fucking better place if it was that easy.”

Cate slowly allowed herself to drift off the bed head first, stopping herself before she hit the floor. She stared at the upside down board. “I mean, your problem is that you aren’t appealing to middle America, right?”

Jordan looked over at her. “Yes, Cate, that’s what we’ve been saying for the last fucking hour.”

“No, I mean, what if you just gave them something they could understand?”

Jordan felt something like a rock settle at the bottom of their stomach. “I’m not stopping shifting.”

Cate sat up. “Of course not! Jesus, Jordan, I’m not that much of a cunt. But, you could present as a little more heterosexual.”

Both Jordan and Andre stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

“You can’t— shouldn’t have to stop shifting. But, if you had a girlfriend, and you happened to only be seen with her in your dude form, it might… I don’t know, be easier for people to understand. People might even think you guys were cute or something, and you wouldn’t even be alienating your LGBT base because they would totally be imagining the two of you scissoring.”

Jordan turned away to look at the empty board. It’s gross, it mirrors too many of the romantic relationships they’ve been in, but it’s also probably the least difficult way of sanitizing themself for a white, conservative audience.

“It’s not… I don’t think you should have to do any of this,” Cate said. “But like, if you need a realistic marketing plan…”

Jordan sighed and turns back around. “You’re right. I need… I need to look more hetero.”

Andre scrawled, “girlfriend?” on the board.

Jordan flopped on the bed next to Cate. “So, where am I going to get this magical, heterosexual girlfriend?”

Andre laughed. “Like you’ve ever struggled to get laid, dude.”

Cate sat up and shook her head. “No, they’re right. Jordan, you need someone discreet. I don’t think Shelby the sorority girl is exactly going to give the energy America wants from you, no offense.”

Jordan shrugged. “I ghosted Shelby, anyway. Pretty sure she’d try to kill me if I hit her up again.”

“C’mon, this isn’t that complicated. This school is full of people who’d kill to date number two. If you were lower, you’d probably be lining up to suck the dick of number two.” Andre paused, apparently remembering that he was in a room with 1.5 women. “Or eat their pussy. Or I don’t know, do whatever to whatever genitals they have in their pants.”

“Yeah, but those girls would also leak all of Jordan’s shit for a chance to move up in the rankings. You need someone who needs this relationship as much as you do. Someone who couldn’t leak your shit, because they’d be equally as screwed.”

“That’s… cynical,” Andre said.

Cate shrugged. “It’s true.” She puts a gloved hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “I love you, Jordan. If you’re going to do this, it needs to be with someone who’s not going to be able to hurt you.”

Jordan shut their eyes because fuck, they do know someone who desperately needs something from them, who would never leak that it was a fake relationship because of a misguided view of heroism even if shit went south.

“I know who I can talk to.”

Looking up someone’s room number through Brink’s admin privileges is definitely not a good use of the trust Jordan has built up. But hunting down a freshman in a sea of eager faces has been harder than they thought it would be.

They stood in front of the door, shifting their weight from one foot to the other, trying to get up the courage to knock. This is weird, right? They should go.

Before they can turn away, the door flings open and a tiny blonde is staring at them with her mouth open.

“Holy shit, you’re Jordan Li!”

“Uh, hi?” Jordan waved. “I wasn’t, I’m just gonna—“

“Marie, the TA you hate is here—“ her voice drops down to a fake whisper that Jordan can still hear— “and oh my god he is so much hotter than you said he was— they were?”

There was rustling behind the door and Marie appeared, dreads pulled up into pigtails and wearing a tank top and pajama shorts. “Uh, hi?” she said.

Jordan clearsed their throat. “Hello.”

Marie leaned against the door, her arms crossed. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you,” Jordan said. They peered inside the room where they can see the blonde making a series of obscene gestures just out of their view. She stopped as soon as she realized Jordan could see her. “Alone.”

“Right,” the blonde said. “I was just going. You two have fun! But like, not too much fun. I have a study date at four because Contract Negotiations is totally kicking my ass, and I need all the help I can get. So like, don’t break anything-“

“Emma,” Marie cut in, grabbing the girl’s arm before she could fully leave the room. “Don’t go.” She turned her gaze to Jordan. “Why would I want to hear what you have to say? You rejected me and then told me to try harder. This is weird, showing up at my door.”

“Marie,” the blonde hissed, pointing her head at Jordan and mouthing things that they were sure were obscene.

“I know you don’t owe it to me to hear me out, but I need something and I think it could benefit both of us.”

“Wait, is this a sex thing?” Marie said, her nose wrinkling. “Do you fuck all the freshmen you reject from Brink’s class or something?”

“Just hear me out, please? Five minutes, and if you say no, you’ll never hear from me again.”

Marie’s gaze softened slightly and she glanced at her roommate, whose expression was clearly rooting for this to be a sex thing. “Fine. Five minutes. Emma, you can go.”

The girl squealed like she’s been given a present and ran off. Marie opened the door wider and gestured for Jordan to come in.
Looking around Marie’s room, Jordan found it hard to believe that two freshmen lived there. One side was absolutely covered in shit, clothes both normal human sized and small enough for a Polly Pocket strewn on the floor and every built in shelf filled with family pictures and knickknacks. The side of the room was empty, a cheap Chromebook on the desk and a singular photo of a family displayed on Marie’s shelves. It was not what Jordan expected from Marie.

“So, why are you here?”

Jordan leaned up against the desk on the other side of the room from Marie. “I need a girlfriend.”

“Oh my god, I knew this was a sex thing.”

“No, wait! It’s not, I don’t actually need a girlfriend, I just need someone to… you know, pretend?”

Marie’s eyebrows raised. “Why?”

Jordan sighed. “I’m number two.”

“Okay, and…”

“They’re not going to make me number one unless I have… a more generic appeal. And if I had a girlfriend, someone who I could be seen with when I look like,” Jordan gestured down to their male form, “it could help. A lot.”

Marie stared at them. “So you came here because number two isn’t good enough for you, and what, you thought I’d just be dying to pretend to be your girlfriend?”

“No,” Jordan shook their head. “Look, I can help you. Get into Crimefighting, I mean. Maybe you can redo the application on your own, and maybe Brink’ll reconsider, but if you help me with this, I can help you make a resume he’d have to consider. No guarantees, but you’d have a hell of a better shot, Marie.”

Marie looked at them for a moment, worrying her lip in a way that they’ve observed is a constant habit for her when she’s thinking. “And what if I say no? Are you going to throw my reapplication in the trash?”

Jordan snorted. “Jesus, no. All I’m doing is offering a carrot if you help me, no stick if you say no.”

Marie sighed. “I don’t know if… I’ve never exactly been in a relationship, before.”

Jordan blinked. Marie was pretty. She seemed sweet, and driven as fuck. It seemed impossible she’s never had a boyfriend before. “That’s fine. We wouldn’t really be a couple, it would just be for events and Instagram and stuff. I’m sure you can figure it out for just a little bit.”

“Okay,” Marie said.

“Wait, really?”

“You’ll get me into Crimefighting?”

“I’ll try,” Jordan said. “No promises.”

“Okay,” she said. “But,” Marie stuck a finger against Jordan’s chest, “if you aren’t helping me enough or you don’t take me seriously, I’m out. Anytime, my decision.”

“Jesus, yeah,” Jordan said. “I mean, that’s how consent works. If you don’t want it, you’re out.”

Marie took a step back. “Great.”

“Cool, uh, I guess I’ll get your number?” Jordan grabbed their phone.

Marie hesitated. “I, uh, don’t have a phone yet.”

“What?”

“A phone. I don’t have one. I’m gonna get one, but like, you know, money.”

“Oh, uh, that’s cool I guess,” Jordan said, mentally wondering if they should have done a little more research into this girl.
“Here, give me your phone. I’ll put in Emma’s number, you can just text her. She’s cool with it.”

“Who’s Emma?” Jordan asked.

“My roommate?” Marie said. “You just met her.”

“Oh right, that Emma. Uh, sure, that’s fine. Maybe just don’t tell her it’s fake, though? The less people that know the better, and she doesn’t seem like…”

“The most discreet person?” Marie said. “She’s actually really awesome, but yeah, if you don’t want people to know, I can keep it private.”

“Okay, cool,” Jordan said, handing Marie their phone.

Marie created a contact and punched in Emma’s number. “I guess I’ll see you later then?” She offered Jordan back the phone.
“Right, see you later,” Jordan said, letting themself out of Marie’s room.

Jordan could tell that the first response to their text is not from Marie because there was no way in hell Marie would use that many emojis in one message. At least, they were pretty sure she wouldn’t.

“the quad sounds 🔥🔥🌟🔥🔥. 👀 u there😸”

“Is your new girlfriend 45?” Andre asked, grabbing the phone and looking at the text.

“No, it’s her roommate. Marie says she’s nice, but,” Jordan looked down at the message again, “yeah.”

“Oh, Marie says she’s nice, does she?”

Jordan took the phone back. “Shut up.”

“Just saying, the picture you showed me was pretty cute.”

The only picture of Marie, apparently in existence, was her school portrait Jordan had pulled from the school records. It was a little weird, but Cate had demanded to see her and wasn’t willing to take no for an answer.

Jordan sighed. “All the better to convince middle America I’m the bastion of heterosexuality, am I right?”

Andre clapped Jordan on the back. “I’m sorry you have to do this. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not going to classes until Vought gets their head out of their asses and makes you number one.”

Jordan pulled Andre’s hand off of him. “Dude, you’ve had a 1.0 gpa since Freshman year. This isn’t new for you.”

“Yes, but now I’m doing it for a cause. And I will not stop until justice prevails.”

Jordan snorted. Motherfucker was going to burn the school down with his partying and claim it was in protest of Jordan’s ranking.

Marie was standing in the quad, thumbs tucked into the straps of her backpack, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

Jordan walked up to her. “Hey.”

“Oh, hi.” And suddenly she was smiling at them, her eyes crinkling.

“So, how are classes?” Jordan said, unconsciously mirroring Marie’s stance.

“Is this how you start all your dates?” Marie asked. “Talking about classes?”

“No, but I mean— Look, you’ve never had a,” Jordan, suddenly conscious of where they were, dropped their voice, “boyfriend, but it’s not like I’ve had a fake girlfriend before. I’m not— I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”

“Oh,” Marie said. “I thought you’d have some kind plan.”

Jordan shrugged. “To be honest, I thought about looking up what to do, but it felt weirder than the first time I tried looking up porn.”
Marie giggled at that, and Jordan could feel a little of the awkwardness leaving their body.

“Maybe this isn’t the best spot for this? We could try and get a study room in the library, and figure out a game plan,” Jordan said.
Marie glanced around. “Or maybe we don’t need to overthink this.”

She took a step closer to Jordan, looking up at them through her lashes. “You should take me to Vought-A-Burger and tell me what I need to do to get my resume better for Brink.”

Jordan blinked. “That’s your plan?”

“People will see us, they’ll talk, we go on another date... It’ll seem natural.”

“I guess…” Jordan said. “For the record, I would not take you to Vought-A-Burger for a first date, though.”

Marie laughed again, her eyes crinkling. “Oh, is Vought-A-Burger not classy enough for you?”

“Not nearly classy enough. I would never take someone anywhere less extravagant than Olive Garden.”

Marie smiled. “Great. You can take me there on our second date.”

Marie was even more of a lost cause than Jordan had thought.

“Okay, show me your resume,” Jordan said, sitting down in the booth.

“I don’t have one,” Marie said, placing her hands on the table and folding them together.

“You don’t have one? You haven’t even worked at a Vought-A-Burger? Or babysat?”

Marie sucked her cheek in and then released it. “Well, the— My parents really didn’t like me being out on my own. So I didn’t really have a job.”

“Okay, what about extracurriculars? What did you do in high school?”

Marie looked bashful. “School?”

“Oh, great. Did you even go to an actual school?”

“Yes! Jesus, why are you being such an asshole to me?”

Jordan sighed, and then glanced around the room. No one was looking their way, yet, but it was only a matter of time and this was not a good start to their burgeoning fake relationship.

“Look, Crimefighting is a tough major. If you really did jackshit in high school, I’m not sure I can help you. Maybe we should call this off.” Jordan made to stand up.

“Wait,” Marie said, grabbing Jordan’s arm before they could stand. “If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?”

Jordan tapped the table with their fingers listlessly. “What?”

“No, I’m serious. You cannot tell anyone.”

“Were you a secret informant for the CIA? Please tell me you have some black op shit in your background.”

Marie sighed. “Look, will you just promise?”

Jordan flippantly crossed their heart.

“I killed my parents,” Marie said, her voice dropping to a whisper as she leaned in.

“You what?” Jordan said flatly.

“I didn’t know I had any powers until I was 12, when I got my first period and… my mom came in and I didn’t have any control over what happened. My dad came in next, and…” Marie looked down at the table. “I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I got sent to this group home, Red River, for,” Marie looked up at Jordan and then back to the table, “kids like me. So yeah, I didn’t do any extracurriculars. We weren’t allowed out of the facility because it wasn’t exactly safe to let a bunch of supe kids with uncontrollable powers out on the street.”

Jordan leaned back in the booth. “So you have a record, unsanitary powers, and no resume? Marie, how did you think you were going to get into Crimefighting? You’re lucky you got here at all.”

This time, Marie was the one ready to leave. “I didn’t come here so you could berate me,” Marie whisper-yelled. “If you can’t help me, then fuck off. But I know I have had to work twice as hard as everyone here to get half as far, and I’m not going to stop until I make an actual difference. Not that you would understand that.”

“Not that I would understand that? Jesus, Marie, do you think I want to be here right now? I have never and will never be recognized for my own merits, which at least I actually have.”

Marie grabbed her bag and stood up. “Fine. If you don’t want to be here, I won’t make you stay.”

“Wait—“ Jordan said, but Marie was already marching out of the Vought-A-Burger.

“Fuck.” Jordan slumped back in the booth, letting their head hit the hard plastic behind them.

“Jesus, Jordan,” Cate said as they reluctantly filled her in on what had happened with Marie over coffee the next morning.
“I was just being honest,” Jordan said. “I didn’t want to get her hopes up.”

“So you rejected her from the program, again? I get that she seems naive, but you need her. You could have played nice.”

“I don’t know that she’s naive,” Jordan said, fidgeting with their paper cup. “I mean, she’s been through a lot.”

“Like what?” Cate said.

“I told her I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Cate set down her cup with a thump. “So, she opened up to you about something? Was this before or after you totally shut her down?”

Jordan shrugged.

“Jordan!”

“Okay, okay, maybe I see your point,” Jordan said, taking a swig of their coffee.

“No, I don’t think you do. Have you ever heard of the phrase ‘you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?’”

Jordan shrugged again. “Isn’t that about being nice to your enemies? I don’t think Marie is exactly my enemy.”

Cate sighed. “No, she’s a cute little freshman bumblebee, which probably makes it more true. She doesn’t want you to be honest with her, she wants you to give her hope. And you need her to like you, so you might want to start actually treating her nicely.”
“I don’t know that—“

“Jordan, listen to me. You need her, and she’s not going to help you if that’s how you’re going to treat her. If there was another way for you to shoot for number one, don’t you think I would have thought of it?”
“Fuck. I need to apologize, don’t I?”

“Not just apologize,” Cate said. “I think you’re going to have to grovel. Like on your knees begging.”

“You’re an asshole, you know that, Cate?”

“You don’t want me to respond to that, Jordan honey.” Cate said, standing up and grabbing Jordan’s hand. “Because you’re the real asshole here, just so we’re clear. Like, huge, raging, infected asshole.”

“Yeah, I got it. Fuck you,” Jordan said, following Cate.

Somehow, the second time at Marie’s door was more awkward than the first.

Jordan knocked at the door, and Emma once again opened it.

“What do you want?” Emma said flatly.

“Uh, is Marie here?”

“Why would I tell you that?”

Jordan sighed. They were here to apologize to Marie, not Marie’s roommate. “Look, I need to talk to her. I need to apologize to her.”
“Okay,” Emma said. “For what?”

“What?” Jordan said.

“If I did know where she was, I might want to know what you were going to say to her so I could know if I should pass the message on or if I need to kick your ass—“

“Emma!” Marie appeared from the room suddenly, grabbing her roommate. “You can’t just threaten people.”

“He’s an asshole, Marie,” Emma said, glancing back at Jordan. “Sorry, they’re an asshole.”

Marie and Emma seemed to have a silent conversation with their eyes for a moment before Marie turned to face Jordan.
“What do you want?”

“Look, I know but—“ Jordan cut off because Emma was glaring at them and looked ready to start biting them. “Can we do this privately?”

“Why?” Marie said. “So you can talk more shit? Jordan, I gave you a chance and you completely tore me apart. I can’t imagine an apology that would actually make me listen.”

“Yeah,” Emma said, nodding her head.

Jordan sighed. “Look, I know I really don’t deserve a second shot—“

“Third shot,” Emma cut in.

Jordan bit back a response to that and continued, “third shot, but I think if I can…” They groaned.

“Great apology,” Emma said. “I’m moved to tears.”

“You know what? Forget it,” Jordan said, turning and walking away.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Marie had been open and honest with them and maybe— fuck, that’s what they needed to do.

Jordan whipped around and managed to grab the door before Emma fully shut it, letting themself in.

“What the fuck?” One of the girls screamed, Jordan couldn’t tell who.

“Wait, wait, no listen— I have three friends,” Jordan said, their hands held out in front of them.

Emma was holding a baseball bat and Marie had a small pocket knife in her hand, but both were frozen.

“What?” Emma said.

“I don’t get along with most people. My only friends are Luke, Andre, and Cate.”

“Your only friends are a member of the fucking Seven, the number one student at this school, and Cate fucking Dunlap? Sorry, let me cry you a river,” Emma said.

Jordan really wished they were able to tell her to fuck off right now. “I’m good at school, but it is possible I am not that great at interpersonal relationships.”

Marie at the very least tucked away her knife, but Emma was still holding her bat.

“So, I know you don’t owe me shit, but I’m asking you anyway. Please give me another chance, and I will do everything I can to not be a cunt.”

“A cunt again,” Marie said.

“A cunt again,” Jordan agreed.

“That’s your apology?” Emma said. “Dude, you’re ranked number two. Just go outside, I’m sure there’s a lot of people lining up to be your friend.”

Jordan shifted to their female form. “No, there’s people who want to post pictures with me. There’s people who’ll tell me how cool my powers are to my face, but then go talk shit behind my back about how I can’t pick. I promise you, the only people willing to actually put up with my shit are Luke, Cate, and Andre, and like, Cate’s a dick to me and I think Andre’s usually too stoned to really register half of what I say, so it might actually just be Luke.”

Emma set down her bat. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sad.”

Jordan shut their eyes. “Thanks, Emma.”

“That wasn’t an apology, though,” Marie said, crossing her arms.

Jordan opened their eyes and made sure to make direct eye contact with Marie. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I said, especially after you were clearly vulnerable. I’m not good with people, and sometimes I say the first thought that comes to my mind without censoring it first. If you do decide to give me another chance, I will absolutely not—“

“Shit on her,” Emma said.

“Shit on you,” Jordan agreed.

Marie still looked hesitant.

“I’m also still your only chance at getting into Crimefighting,” Jordan tacked on.

“Wait, what?” Emma said as Marie said, “Oh, thanks.”

“I’m just saying. I’ll still help you, but more… nicely this time.”

Marie sighed. “Fine, but you better pull every string you have to get me into the program.”

“Scout’s honor,” Jordan said, holding up a completely random number of fingers in salute. Neither of the scout groups had been particularly accepting of a bigender child.

“I’m confused, I thought they were just a dick to you on a date. What’s happening?” Emma said. And then, in a stage whisper to Marie, “Are they your sugar parent?”

“Also, I get to fill Emma in,” Marie said. “Final offer.”

“Deal,” Jordan said, shaking Marie’s hand.

It turned out Emma was actually helpful. Kind of.

“You’re fake dating and neither of you have seen ‘To All the Supes I’ve Loved Before?’”

Marie and Jordan exchanged blank stares and then looked back at Emma.

“Okay, listen. This is a classic trope. I’ve probably auditioned for like 10 of these movies on the Voughtmark Network. But like, ‘To All the Supes’ is a classic. We’re watching it sometime,” Emma pointed at Jordan. “You’re invited. Feel free to bring Cate with you, too. She’s so hot.”

Marie was absolutely looking overwhelmed. “Emma, you said you had ideas?”

“Right, right,” Emma said. “You need to define a bunch of things. First of all,” Emma held up a notebook open to a page that just said, “Timeline,” underlined repeatedly in dark graphite. “How long are you going to pretend to be knocking boots?”

“Knocking boots?” Jordan said.

“Okay, we can keep it a little more high school. Lovers?”

“Emma! We’re not lovers!”

“Pretend lovers,” Emma said. “And you need to decide how long it will take until you are not pretend,” she turned to Marie with head gestures that put emphasis on the word pretend, “lovers.”

Jordan scratched their head. “I kind of just thought we’d go until I was number one, to be honest.”

“Which will be…” Emma asked, tapping the word timeline.

Jordan sighed. “When people are cool with me being bigender?”

“Come on, you thought of this plan with no idea of when you could really impress people with your hot girlfriend?”

“I guess… There’s a holiday gala every year. If Marie and I could show people we’ve been in an established relationship, and then show off how heterosexual and digestible I am there, it might be enough to push me to number one”
“Perfect,” Emma said. “And you’re trying to get into Crimefighting next semester, right? So if you break up…” Emma paused to count days in the air, “mid-January, that shouldn’t be suspicious.”

“Great,” Marie said. “What else?”

Emma flipped to the next page in her notebook, which said, “dates.”

“Okay, so obviously combining business and pleasure—“

Both Marie and Jordan furrowed their brows at the word pleasure.

“Business and other business,” Emma corrected herself, “didn’t work. So they’re two separate things from now on. Jordan, you can come tutor Marie in our room. How long will you need?”

Jordan shrugged. “I mean, I’ll probably just be telling her what she needs to do to build a resume and whose ass she needs to kiss. I can come over like once a week?”

“Great!” Emma said. “Marie, does that sound good to you?”

“Sure,” Marie said.

“Alright, so you should definitely go on like actual dates, but you also need to spend time together in public. Both of you need to send me your class schedule and I’ll make a shared calendar with times you’ll meet up during.”

“You’ll do what?” Jordan said.

Emma sighed. “I can already tell how this is going to go. Marie doesn’t have a phone, and I can’t have you guys blowing up my phone. Trust me, this is easier. Marie, does once a week for formal dates work for you?”

“Sure,” Marie said again.

“Perfect!” Emma flipped to the next page, which said, “Physical contact?” This page had multiple hearts drawn around it.

“Oh, we won’t be doing that,” Marie said.

“Wait, what?” Jordan said, looking over at Marie.

“We don’t need to do anything physical,” Marie said, like that was obvious.

“You’re pretending to be my girlfriend,” Jordan said.

“Okay, we can hold hands, I guess.”

“Marie, is this like— have you kissed someone before?” Emma asked.

“Yes!” Marie said, clearly offended. “I’ve kissed people before.”

“What about…” Emma put her fingers together in multiple ways that Jordan was pretty sure was supposed to signify sex.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant!” Marie said. “Me and Jordan aren’t having sex!”

Emma shook her head. “Forget the plan for a second. I know you’re Amish, but have you had sex?”

“Amish?” Jordan said.

“I’ve done… stuff,” Marie said, and then with a significant look at Jordan. “Not now, please.”

“Okay,” Emma said, picking her notebook back up. “But Jordan’s right, you’re going to have to kiss them. Probably multiple times. Are you cool with that?”

Marie sighed. “Yeah, it’s just weird. You know, pretend kissing someone.”

“Oh, I think you guys will actually be kissing,” said Emma. “Alright, what about body parts? Any hard limits?”

Marie looked up at the ceiling. “Can we just move on?”

“No!” Emma said. “Clearly you guys needed to talk about this, or Jordan was just going to grab you and then you were going to call the campus sexual assault line on them. This is what I’m saying: clear boundaries.”

Jordan pushed their hair out of their face. “I tend to… um, people would notice if I wasn’t grabbing my partner’s ass. I can avoid,” Jordan gestured from their own tits down to their crotch, “this area if that would make you more comfortable.”

Marie’s cheeks darkened. “Okay.”

“I’m cool with whatever,” Jordan said. “No boundaries.”

“Great!” Emma said, flipping to the next page, which said, “Hard launch?”

“Okay, I know a hard launch can be intimidating, but with your timeline, I think it could be our best option.”

“Hard launch?” Marie asked.

“Like social media?” Emma said.

“Oh, I don’t have social media. You know that.”

“Jordan,” Emma said. “I’mma let you handle this one.”

“You’re gonna need social media,” Jordan said. “There’s no way you’re getting into Crimefighting without it.”

“So, see? It’ll help both of you,” Emma said. “Ooh, I can give you a shout out on my page. It’ll totally give you a follower boost.”
Marie sighed. “Fine, I’ll make social.”

“Perfect,” Emma said, “and we’ll hard launch next week. Go on a date first, though. It’ll seem more realistic.” Emma flipped through her notebook. “Alright, I think that’s everything.”

“What, we don’t need to write it all out in sparkly pen and sign it?” Jordan said.

Emma looked at them with narrowed eyes. “No, I think we’ve covered that. But if either of you have anything you need, feel free to let me know and we can renegotiate whenever you want.”

Emma grabbed her phone, walked over to her bed, and flopped dramatically onto it, clearly signaling that her work was done.

“Why is she so invested in this?” Jordan whispered to Marie.

“I think,” Marie said, glancing over at Emma to make sure she couldn’t hear, “she’s just enjoying being the mommager for once.”

“Great,” Jordan said. “I’m going to head out, but feel free to have Kris Kardashian text me if anything else comes up.”

Chapter Text

Emma was a fiend for organizing a PR relationship. Jordan thought about asking her if she’s been in a fake relationship before, but suspected that would result in a very long conversation they didn’t really want to be a part of.

What they did know, however, was that Emma somehow knew every social event and gathering of students occurring in the next month, and, having decided that she was the third member of this fake relationship, she texted Jordan constantly about which one would be the best for Marie and them to “debut.”

That was how Jordan wound up in Emma and Marie’s room on Friday, grimacing at the camera.

“Smile,” Emma said, making Jordan and Marie pose together.

“You know this isn’t prom?” Jordan said through their fake smile.

“This is literally for your socials, so you’re welcome,” Emma said. “Now loosen up. Look like you like each other.”

One of the things Jordan had reluctantly admired about Marie was her absolute honesty and straightforwardness.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the flip side of that was that she could not act to save her life. Jordan was here to pick her up for their first… date? but Marie had spent most of the Emma directed pre-dinner photo shoot looking like a Barbie doll being posed by a child. Her smile was too tight and too big simultaneously, her limbs were never relaxed, held at awkward positions and strange angles.

“This is absolutely not postable,” Emma said, putting down her phone. “We can try again later.”

“Great,” Jordan said through gritted teeth. “Can we go now?”

“Wait,” Emma said, running over to touch up Marie’s lipstick.

Jordan sighed and pulled out their phone. Their first date was not to Olive Garden, but at a party thrown by Dusty. Public, splashy, perfect for a fledgling relationship to debut.

A passing part of Jordan’s mind wondered what it would be like if they did get to take Marie on an actual first date. They’d show up, still in slacks but maybe with a more relaxed t-shirt instead of the button down. Marie would have a tight dress, put into it by Emma but still looking so good. They’d go to Olive Garden, and eat a dozen breadsticks each, and Jordan would get to hear what Marie wanted to pour her passion into once she graduated from college, her life plans and her dreams when she was a little girl and then—

But of course, that was all just absent minded musing. Marie was their fake girlfriend, very much straight, and not particularly interested in their male form in that way.

But still, putting their hand on Marie’s lower back as they helped her into the car, Jordan let themself imagine that she would look up at them and smile in that way that made her eyes crinkle, just once.

Marie looked good. That was a thought Jordan was pretty sure they were not supposed to have, but she wore bell bottoms that clung to her ass and a sparkly little crop top and Emma had clearly done her make up, blending a smokey liner across her lashes and a soft burgundy red lip. Marie didn’t look cute; she was hot.

And that was a good thing, Jordan had to remind themself, pushing their way through the crowd. They were at a party with a hot girl, and their place on the rankings would quickly go up.

Jordan grabbed two beers and handed one to Marie. “Here.”

Marie took a sniff. “What is this?”

“It’s beer. You have had beer before, right?”

Marie took a small sip. “Ew. Um, no. One time we stole a thing of vodka and some mixers from a fundraiser thing happening at the group home, but there wasn’t a lot of opportunity.”

Jordan instinctively took a large gulp of their own beer, scanning the party for somewhere they could slip off to. “Here, c’mon,” they said, grabbing Marie’s hand and leading her to an armchair off from the main action of the party.

Jordan sat down, and Marie looked prepared to hover next to them indefinitely. Jordan pulled her by the hand into their lap.

“Oh,” Marie said.

“I think this is within our mommager’s agreed upon physical contact clause.” Jordan repositioned their free hand so it rested near Marie’s knee.

Marie took another sip of her beer, still wincing.

“I’ll get you something sweeter next time. Sorry, I would have grabbed you a beer if I had known…” Jordan let their voice trail off because pointing out Marie’s lack of experience was clearly not something she needed.

“It’s okay,” Marie said. “This is how people start to like beer, right? You just drink it until it doesn’t taste like piss?”

Jordan snorted. “I’m gonna be honest, it still kind of tastes like piss to me.”

“Oh, great. So I’ll just shut down the part of my brain that tells me piss is bad for me?”

“Yeah, exactly,” Jordan says, finishing their cup in one final swig.

Marie glances down at her cup.

“Here,” Jordan says, taking her cup. “I’ll finish it.”

“No,” Marie said. “I’m going to conquer the piss.”

Jordan let out a genuine laugh. “Jesus, Moreau.”

Marie snorted. “Ok, maybe not the best phrasing.”

Jordan rolled their eyes, their hand unconsciously stroking Marie’s leg.

Marie sighed and looked back down at the cup.

“Just chug it down,” Jordan said. “Once you’re two drinks in, you won’t even notice the taste.”

Marie looked ready to plug her nose, but she took the drink and slammed it back.

“See, there you go!” Jordan said.

Marie snorted. “That was terrible.”

Jordan shrugged. “The things we do to have fun.”

Marie sighed, shifting her position and moving closer to Jordan. Jordan suddenly felt the prickling awareness they had first felt with their first girlfriend in high school, the wave of pleasure of having someone a little closer than normal combined with the pinpricks of anxiety stiffening across their body. Hyperawareness.

Marie made eye contact with them, and then suddenly her eyes were on the ceiling, and then bounced back down to look out at the crowded dance floor— dance area? It wasn’t like Dusty had an official dance floor in his living room.

“So other than chugging down beer, what do people do at parties?” Marie asked, her vision remaining fixed ahead of her.

“The orphanage—“

“Group home,” Marie corrected.

“Your group home was that locked down? You never even went to a high school party?”

Marie sighed. “A lot of us— me especially, weren’t considered safe. Maybe I could have pushed for more privileges, but I didn’t want to hurt anyone else. It seemed like the safest option.”

“But you’re here now? That doesn’t seem like the safest option.”

Marie looked back at Jordan. “It was the only way I was going to prove to— to myself that I wasn’t a monster. It took a long time to not,” Marie looked down, flexing her hand, “believe that I was going to kill everyone. I had nightmares for years. That I would wake up, and everyone in the beds around me would just be in puddles of blood, exploded by me in my sleep. I didn’t even like most of the kids there, but I was terrified I was going to kill them.”

Jordan feels like they should say something, but they aren’t sure what. This isn’t a first date conversation, light and flirty, or the kind of conversation they’ve typically had at Dusty’s house, but they don’t want to steer the conversation in a different direction.

“You don’t seem like a monster to me,” is what they settle on after a moment.

“Thanks,” Marie said with a wry smile.

Jordan’s gaze flitted from Marie’s mouth to her eyes. They needed to move, now. “Come on, we should dance,” they said.

“What?” Marie says as they pushed her up and stood themself.

Jordan pulled her a little closer, positioning their mouth near her ear. It definitely looked intimate to the people around them. “Did they not let you dance at the orphan— sorry, group home?”

Marie steps back. “You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?” But her voice isn’t loaded with hatred this time.

“Come on. We’re supposed to be selling this.”

Marie studied their face for a moment. “Fine, Li. Show me how to dance.”

The dance floor was hot and sticky, full mostly of people more interested in grinding than dancing. In order to find space, Jordan and Marie had to be directly on top of each other, Marie’s face firmly in Jordan’s chest. Jordan’s hands slid around her waist, not low enough to freak Marie out but low enough that anyone around them would probably assume they were going to slide lower as the evening went on.

Marie looked up at them, her eyes half lidded and… it was a lot.

Jordan could admit that in any other situation, they probably would have kissed her. Marie was beautiful and so willing to pushback against any bullshit she faced and so, so close. It would have been so easy to just lean down and kiss her.

But they needed her. Kissing Marie because they wanted to would mean awkwardness and inevitably Marie letting them know she just couldn’t do the whole girl thing. They would be right back to square one, no closer to moving up in the rankings.

Jordan instinctively pushed Marie back, hands still on her waist. Jordan had to back up against a drunken frat bro to get the space, touching way too much of his meaty body.

“What?” Marie said.

“What?” Jordan echoed back.

“You’re being weird,” Marie said, her brow furrowing.

Jordan didn’t need to glance down to confirm that they were swaying to the music like middle schoolers at their first dance. They pulled her back in, adjusting their grip on her back.

“Seriously, where’d you go?” Marie asked, her voice close to Jordan’s ear.

Jordan looked down at Marie, her cheek pressed against their chest. She was supposed to be their girlfriend, fake or not.

“Can I kiss you?” they asked in a whisper.

Marie’s eyes snapped up to meet Jordan’s.

“It seems like as good a time as any,” Jordan said, gesturing with their head to the people around them.

Marie worried her lip with her teeth, and then said, “Yeah, okay.”

Softly, they leaned in, pressing their lips against hers. They meant it to be a quick peck, just a touch of the lips, but when they went to pull away, Marie followed their mouth, pulling them back in.

Marie’s fingers moved from their shoulder to their hair, grabbing Jordan and firmly planting her mouth on theirs. Jordan is electrified, feeling the soft motion of Marie’s lips against theirs and the contrasting strength of her grip. Suddenly, Marie is the one pulling away, her breathing rapid.

Jordan, not fully knowing what just happened, pressed their mouth against Marie’s yet again, feeling her body pulled taught against theirs, feeling every curve and every line of her body, aching for more.

The kiss deepened into something deeper and charged. Jordan’s tongue slipped into Marie’s mouth, and Jordan grasped Marie’s ass as she clutched at their body with equal fever.

It took a catcall from someone for the two to separate, panting and a little lost.

As they pull away, Jordan saw Marie’s face, her brow furrowed in thought. “Good job selling it,” they whispered to her.

Marie made eye contact with Jordan and gives a wry smile. “You too.”

There was no more kissing for the rest of the evening. The two downed maybe three more drinks each, and then, only a little more than an hour after they arrived, they fell into the back of an Uber, giggling in a way that Jordan was sure would imply that they were going back to Jordan’s room. It was a successful night.

And if Jordan caught themself looking over at Marie while she stares out the window of the Uber, the streetlights bouncing off her skin, that’s not important.