Chapter 1
The cheapskate in class found out I was a trust fund kid and totally lost it. He got down on one knee outside the dorm, proposing with a ring made from some random grass.
I shot him down cold, but he just wouldn't take a hint. He even started spreading this ridiculous "desperate romantic" story all over campus.
On my birthday, he posted a hair tie with a cringe-worthy caption: [Hoping to put this on my dream girl's hair myself.]
My jealous childhood friend snatched my phone, picked the cheapest designer bag from my gifts, and posted from my account: [[Thanks for the gift, babe. Love you tons!]
*****
Just as I finished getting ready, my roommates started egging me on to go downstairs. Jackson Zimmerman, a classmate of mine, was down there on one knee, trying to profess his love to me.
I was used to this kind of thing. I grew up with money and was good-looking enough to turn heads. Admirers were never in short supply.
Some guys tried to win me over with their cash, others with their looks. But Jackson thought his so-called personality was all it took.
He was our class president—average looks, average emotional depth, but he loved being the center of attention. His Instagram was packed with selfies and over-the-top posts about some ex-girlfriend who probably existed only in his imagination.
When we first started college, everyone had to fill out a family background form, and Jackson was the one collecting them.
I put down that I was the daughter of the richest man in town. He kept quiet about it, but the next day, he wiped all those dramatic ex-girlfriend posts from his feed and started messaging me nonstop with his cringey small talk.
[Have you ever tried Starbucks? Honestly, I think it's nothing special.]
[Did you understand what the professor was talking about today? Let me test you—no cheating.]
[Bought something today and got a free keychain. It looks nice. Want it? I'll give it to you if you like.]
I just ignored those messages. There was nothing worth responding to.
But I never expected him to show up outside my dorm and confess. It was so awkward I wanted to disappear into the floor.
When I got downstairs, there he was, wailing dramatically, with a crowd of curious students watching.
"Shelley Moore, I like you. Be my girlfriend." He kept shouting it on repeat, and the crowd started egging him on with whistles and cheers.
Honestly, if he hadn't been yelling so loudly, I wouldn't have been able to spot him in the crowd.
To me, public confessions were basically another kind of pressure. But somehow, people in the crowd were swooning, saying stuff like, "College romance is so pure and beautiful. I wish someone would confess to me like that."
Suddenly, my roommates shoved me right up to Jackson.
Spotting me, Jackson stopped yelling, dropped to one knee, and held up something.
To make sure I could see, he'd even brought along a white candle for extra lighting—so "romantic."
By the flickering candlelight, I finally saw what he was holding. It was a ring, or at least something that looked like one.
But unlike other rings—even an iron one would reflect the light—this thing was just a tangled clump of dark grass.
I stood there awkwardly for ages, unable to bring myself to take it.
Catching me staring at the ring, Jackson got all worked up, explaining, "Shelley, this is the nicest piece of wild grass I found by the flowerbeds. I made it into a ring for you. I really want you to be my girlfriend so we can share all the awesome stuff."
As he spoke, he held the ring up even higher, and the crowd started chanting.
"Take the ring!"
"Get together!"
"Say yes!"
The onlookers weren't interested in the details—they just joined in and hyped things up.
"Sorry, I—Oh my God! There's a bug on your hand." Just as I was about to politely reject Jackson, I saw a bug crawling out of the grass ring, scurrying up his arm and disappearing into his sleeve. Instinctively, I jumped back, totally freaking out.
Jackson panicked, swatting wildly at his arm. The candle tumbled to the ground, almost setting my shoe on fire.
Annoyed and done with the whole scene, I said directly, "Thanks for liking me, but I already have someone I like. Sorry."
With that, I turned to leave.
But Jackson just wouldn't drop it. "Can I at least know the name of the guy you like? I'll work hard to beat him and make you fall for me instead."
My mind went blank. I'd only said that to keep things from getting awkward, but he took it seriously and now wanted me to come up with a name.
"His name is Matthew Goodman," I said after thinking for a second.