“Aren’t you afraid that he might speed and we might get into an accident?” I point out helpfully.

Mami gives me a look. “Where, pray tell, can you speed in Jakarta?”

I hate to admit it, but she’s right. Jakarta traffic is notoriously bad. Most streets have stop-and-go traffic. Even if Jonas wanted to, there’s no way he can go over twenty-five miles an hour unless he goes outside the city.

I can only watch helplessly as Mami steps out of the house. Jonas climbs out of his ridiculous car and saunters up our driveway, waving at us. When he reaches the doorstep, he gives us a winning smile and hands Mami a box.

“Hi, Tante. Mami says to give you this. It’s macarons, straight from Pierre Hermé in Paris. She had it ordered especially for you when she heard that Kiki and I are”—he pauses for a second to give a bashful smile—“going out.”

Mami practically swoons at that. She grabs the box and clasps it to her chest. “Oh, you are such a good child! What a polite Chinese boy you are! Jonas, have you had breakfast? Can I get you anything?”

“We’re going to be late,” I say flatly, pushing past Mami, keeping my glare locked on Jonas and his smarmy face.

“Kiki!” Mami snaps.

“She’s right, Tante,” Jonas says with an easygoing shrug. “We should get to school.”

“Have a wonderful day!” Mami says. “And please thank your mami for the macarons.” I know she’s already frantically scouring her mental list of patisseries to find the perfect thank-you gift for Jonas’s mom. It’s going to be an ongoing battle where they are stuck in this hellish loop, each one sourcing more expensive gifts for the other until they realize they just dropped five grand on a cream puff and call a truce.

“Great job sucking up to my mom.” I refuse to meet his eye as he opens the passenger door for me.

“It’s called having manners. You might want to try it sometime.” He lets me in with a flourish and gives one last wave to Mami, who’s still standing on our doorstep like some 1950s housewife seeing her husband off as he leaves for Wall Street.

Jonas is a surprisingly good driver. I fully expected him to be a complete douche on the road, bullying everyone like he does in person, but he carefully maneuvers the car and doesn’t speed. Then I realize he’s so careful because he doesn’t want to accidentally nick his precious car, because of course. I bet he’s one of those jerks who call their cars their baby and make kissy noises at them as they wash them with gentle caresses.

He glances at me. “How was your weekend?”

“Oh god, no.”

“No what?” He actually looks confused.

“No, let’s not do small talk.” I maintain eye contact with him and give him a defiant smile as I put on my headphones.

“So rude.” He laughs. Then he reaches over and actually pulls off my headphones. He does so gently, but it’s still so shocking, an actual violation of my personal space. When my mouth drops open, he gives me a look. “Come on, Kiki. Let’s not behave like toddlers.”

I grind my teeth. I have never in my life wanted to hit someone as much as I want to hit Jonas Arifin. How long do I have to keep this up? The answer floats up like a bubble of toxic gas from a swamp. Until he gets bored of me. Yes, of course. And he will, no doubt about that, because privileged rich kids like Jonas have one thing in common: they get bored very easily. They can’t help it. They grew up getting anything they wanted. When you have access to all the toys the world has to offer, it doesn’t take long for you to get bored with the ones you have and move on to the next thing. And to Jonas, I’m nothing more than a toy.

Okay, new strategy: I am going to bore the hell out of Jonas. I’m going to be such an uninteresting, droning, tedious girlfriend that he’s going to beg me to leave him alone. Good plan, self.

I turn to Jonas and smile. “I had a great weekend, actually.”

“Oh?” He brightens up, and I nearly laugh in his face. This asshole thinks I’m actually about to share how my weekend went with him because I want to.

“Yeah, so I spent it…” I consider topics that he might find boring. Knitting? Gardening? “Scrapbooking.”

“Really? I didn’t think you’d be into that sort of thing.” The disdain in his voice comes through loud and clear.

“Oh yeah. I’m really into scrapbooking. I’ve got an entire desk full of scrapbooking supplies. Let me tell you what they are. So first, I’ve got my scrapbook, of course.” My mind flies ahead, trying to remember everything I know about scrapbooking. “Then I’ve got about twenty different kinds of washi tape. Do you know what washi tape is?” I tell him anyway, without waiting for an answer. “My favorite one has pineapples on it, and a blue background. And my second favorite is a rainbow-colored one. Now, my third favorite is a draw between…”

“Babe.”

Oh god, did he just call me babe? A repulsed shudder shivers up my spine, and I have to actively stop myself from gagging.

Jonas quirks up the corners of his mouth at me. “C’mon, you can’t seriously be into that stuff.”

Ugh, could he be more of a jerk? I mean, yes, I’m not actually into it, but I could be.

“That’s for old, sad women who own way too many cats for their own good,” he continues. “You’re way better than that. You should be into…” He waves a hand flippantly. “I don’t know, like, snowboarding, or deep-sea fishing. Oh hey, speaking of fishing—”

We weren’t speaking of fishing,I want to snap.

“My dad bought a new yacht. We should take it for a spin, huh? Go out to one of the islands and see if we can catch a shark.” He glances at me with wide, eager eyes and an expectant smile, probably expecting me to be hopping with excitement at the suggestion.

“Why the hell would I want to catch a shark?”

Jonas lets out a short, affronted breath. “Okay, don’t be appreciative of my awesome suggestion. Doesn’t matter, I already told the Lil’ Aunties about my yacht. They love the idea of setting up a double date on the yacht.”

Good grief. I could practically hear the excitement in Eleanor Roosevelt’s and SJP’s voices. If word got out that the Lil’ Aunties hooked their customers—I mean, clients—up for a yacht date, they would get so many new sign-ups.

“Fine, whatever. We’ll go on your stupid yacht.”

“You know, most girls would die to get on a yacht with me.”

“So they can throw themselves overboard, probably,” I mutter.

“Kiki,” Jonas sighs, “a little bit of sass is cute. But now you’re just being rude, which is honestly really unattractive.”

Anger lurches up my chest, and I have to fight to keep myself from exploding at him. Who the hell cares what Jonas finds attractive or not? Fortunately, we arrive at the school, so I don’t have to listen to Jonas telling me how to behave. I don’t even wait for him to turn off the engine; as soon as he’s parked, I open the door and jump out of the car like it’s about to catch fire. Thank god. I wouldn’t be able to stand another minute in there without hitting Jonas in the—

“Kiki?”

I glance up and oh god. Nooo!

Liam is standing there, one hand resting on the strap of his messenger bag. He’s looking really, really confused, especially as Jonas chooses this very moment to climb out of his stupid Aston Martin.

“Did you just—did you guys drive here together?” Liam looks back and forth at us with a puzzled frown.

“No, it’s not like—” I struggle for the right words, but let’s face it. In a situation like this, there are no right words. “I mean, yes, but—”

“My man!” Jonas says, lifting his fist for Liam to bump. Liam hesitates for a moment before bumping it. “How’s it going?”

Liam pushes his hair away from his face. “Uh, good. Did you guys get here together?”

Jonas grins. “Yeah, of course.”

No, no, no!

The confused frown on Liam’s face deepens. “Oh, why ‘of course’? Are you neighbors or something?”

“No!” I cry, and at the same time, Jonas laughs and says, “No, but we are dating, so.”

“Wait, no—”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, though, okay? ’Cause you know, school rules and all that,” Jonas says, then—oh god—he winks.

My mouth opens and closes like a fish drowning on land. Liam turns to look at me, and I’ve never seen this expression on his face before. It tears through my skin and burns up my insides. It’s disappointment and hurt and surprise all rolled together, and there’s nothing I want more in this moment than to grab him and explain everything.

“That’s…cool,” he says after an eternity. “I’m happy for you guys.”

“It was a long time coming,” Jonas says. “Right, Kiki? We’ve been flirting for weeks now, and over the weekend we finally made things official.”

“Flirting for weeks, huh?” Liam’s eyes meet mine, and I stare back soundlessly, a world of emotions warring inside me. Look at me and see the truth, I plead silently. You’ve got to know that Jonas is spouting bullshit.

Jonas finally senses the weird vibe between Liam and me. He glances at Liam, then at me, and his eyes narrow a little. Okay, maybe now he’ll end this conversation and put me out of my misery.

But of course, that isn’t what happens, because Jonas is an agent of chaos. When he senses something off, he doesn’t avoid it; instead, he jumps headlong into it. I see the moment of decision, the glint in his eye, far too late.

“How was your date? You had one, like, a week ago, right?” Jonas laughs. “I love how whoever’s running that app thinks an NDA would shut anyone up. Pretty sure the entire school knows who’s going out with whom.”

“Uh, right. It was okay.” Liam’s gaze burns through me before he drops it.

“Well, don’t worry about it, mate. I already asked the Lil’ Aunties to set us up on a double date.”

Both Liam and I snap our heads around and stare at Jonas, mouths agape. Oh my god. I did say that I wanted to go on a double date with Liam recently. But things have changed massively now that I’m “dating” Jonas. I would rather chew off my own arm than go on a double date with Liam, with Jonas as my date. Well, maybe not my own arm, but I would definitely rather chew off an arm than do that.

Jonas grins at us. “They think it’s a great idea. It’ll be on my new yacht, by the way. You’re gonna love it. Kiki’s excited about going on it, aren’t you, babe?”

Acidic words claw themselves up my throat and then die halfway up, because seriously, what the hell can I say to that?

Liam shoves his hands into his pockets, not meeting my eye. “Cool,” he mumbles.

“You’re all gonna love my new yacht, I promise.”

Not even eight in the morning and Jonas has said “yacht” about seventeen times. And I can’t believe I’m going to have to go on a double date with him as my boyfriend while Liam goes out with another girl. How did my life take such a disastrous turn?