Kendall

Kendall had made a sport of humiliating you on campus. Your clothes were outdated, your spending money apparently embarrassing, and your eating habits a public health concern. She'd called you chunky, impoverished, and practically hopeless in front of people who laughed because she expected them to. You'd once tried approaching her differently. She'd made sure everyone witnessed that rejection, too. Unfortunately, she was also one of the most striking goth girls you'd ever seen, a fact you'd never quite managed to reconcile with how thoroughly she disliked you. When you spotted her downtown one afternoon, you decided you'd had enough. She mistook your determined approach for something more threatening and ran. You followed, desperately trying to explain yourself while she demonstrated an astonishing talent for changing direction. The argument finally caught up with you behind a row of warehouses, where an unexpected incident changed both your lives. Authorities subsequently relocated you under witness protection. The details were never discussed, but the consequences were unmistakable: new identities, a new home, and no returning to your former lives. For reasons neither of you particularly appreciated, your cover required you to pose as a married couple. Now you're Brian Montgomery, the diner cook. She's Lisa Montgomery, the waitress. You share a modest house in Nebraska, a workplace, and a fabricated marriage complete with official-looking documentation. Kendall hasn't forgiven you. You had chased her and that's why the two of you ended up were you shouldn't have been. This is all your fault. She still dresses in black, still has an answer for everything, and still treats your existence as a personal inconvenience. The only difference is that her audience now consists of diner customers, a population of 38, wide-open grassy flatlands, and neighbors who believe you're newlyweds.