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by Ashley Jade
Oh. I’m stunned he’s being so candid.
I feel it’s only fair I do the same with him. “I thought you slept with Candace. It’s why I ran in here like a crazy person.”
Confusion clouds his face. “Who’s Candace?”
Leave it to Cole to not remember her name. “The woman who did your tattoo.”
“I didn’t fuck her.”
“Why?”
I need to know it wasn’t just because of the contract and the stupid bet.
“Why do you think?”
No. I won’t let him evade it. “Answer the question, Covington.”
His jaw tightens. “Would it hurt you if I slept with her?”
I’m in the ultimate catch twenty-two. If I say no—I’m a liar.
If I say yes—I’ll be admitting I have feelings for him.
And giving him the power to hurt me again.
I hate the way he’s looking at me. It’s as though he can see my every thought. “Answer the question, Church.”
My throat feels like sandpaper. “I—”
The door swings open.
“Found them,” Oakley shouts.
A second later Jace and Dylan join us.
“Everything okay?” Jace questions.
“Yeah.” Cole jumps off the table. “Sawyer was showing me her tattoo.”
“Speaking of tattoos,” Jace says. “It looks like you got one too.”
Cole throws his sweatshirt over his head. “Nope. You’re imagining things.”
It’s safe to say the real Cole has left the building.
It’s clear Jace doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t press. “Dylan and I have plans tonight, so if you want a ride home, meet me by my car in five.”
A moment later, everyone leaves.
I’m about to join them, but Cole blocks the door.
“Don’t try to get inside my head or demand answers from me if you can’t give me the same in return.”
His anger takes me by surprise. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He gets uncomfortably close to my face. “Don’t be a goddamn hypocrite.”
“I’m not.”
“Bullshit.” He pulls a small box out of his pocket and hands it to me. “Here. Happy Birthday.”
With that, he takes off.
Mind spinning, I open the jewelry box.
Only, there isn’t any jewelry inside…there’s just a note.
Your gift is inside your locker.
—CC
Chapter 35
Sawyer
199lbs.
The scale must be broken because there’s no way I lost five pounds in four days.
I scan my brain, doing a quick inventory of my weekend.
On Thursday, Cole showed up for dinner, and I worked on my essay.
Friday, I gave Cole the contract and went undercover as Izzy.
On Saturday, I got my tattoo with a side of Cole drama.
Sunday, I attended church, went to choir practice, and studied.
That’s when it dawns on me. The Adderall.
Luis told me it made people lose weight, but I thought I was so fat I’d be immune to that little side effect.
Come to think of it, I haven’t had much of an appetite lately.
I couldn’t even eat a full slice of birthday cake.
I look in the mirror. Can’t say I’m mad about it.
Feeling like the universe might be punking me, I jump back on the scale to make sure it’s not a fluke.
A rush of happiness flows through me when it reads the same.
The last time I was under two-hundred pounds was when I had the flu for two whole weeks.
Of course, the second I recovered and started eating, I gained it all back and then some.
I dig the Adderall out of my bookbag and stuff one in my mouth.
I wasn’t planning on taking one today since I got so much studying done yesterday, but why not? As far as I’m concerned, this is a miracle drug.
Not only does it help me study more and give me energy. It makes me lose weight. I’ve finally cracked the code.
I’m practically skipping down the staircase.
“Someone’s in a good mood,” my dad notes when he sees me.
Just like that, my good mood dissipates.
I can’t look at him without replaying what he told Cole over and over in my head.
Ignoring him, I head for the front door.
“Your breakfast is on the table,” my mother calls out.
“Sorry, I told someone I’d give them my study notes before school. I’ll stop and grab something on the way.”
I haven’t spoken to Cole since our conversation—or rather, non-conversation—at the tattoo shop.
A small part of me was hoping he’d text, but deep down, I knew better.
Cole’s not the kind to apologize.
Evidently, he’s also not the kind to wait in a school parking lot for his fake girlfriend, either.
I hate that things are weird between us.
Almost as much as I hate Oakley for interrupting us.
I would have told Cole the truth.
Maybe it was divine intervention that I didn’t though, considering his hot and cold act.
I don’t want to put myself out there to get hurt again.
Given his less-than-stellar track record, there’s a very real possibility, if I admit I have feelings for Cole, he’ll use them to his advantage in order to win the bet.
Then dump me on my ass the second it’s over.
I’m not sure I can take that kind of hurt.
“Why are boys so stupid?” I grumble as I make my way to my locker.
Oakley looks around. “Is that a rhetorical question?”
“Yes…no. I don’t know,” I snap.
His blue eyes widen. “Someone’s riding the crimson wave.”
“Huh?”
“Shark week.”
It’s like he’s speaking another language. “Dammit. Speak English, Oakley.”
“You have your period!” he shouts.
Everyone within earshot stops to look at us.
“You couldn’t have used aunt flow or time of the month like a normal person?” I hiss when we reach my locker.
“They were next on my list.” He leans against the locker next to mine. “But to answer your question, we’re not stupid. Our brains are just filled with less junk than yours.”
I spin the combination on my locker. “If your brains were filled with less junk, you should be able to process things faster…or at all for that matter.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t understand. Guys operate on a different hierarchy of needs. Or as I like to call them…the three Ps.”
I pause. “Three Ps?”
He starts ticking things off with his fingers. “Getting paid, getting provisions—that’s food and other necessit—”
“I know what provisions are, Oak.”
He gives me a lewd smile. “And the most important one of all—getting pussy.” His face scrunches. “Unless you’re gay, then it’s the other P word.”
“Penis?”
“Pecker. But that works too.”
I think about his three Ps for a moment. “So what you’re saying is, guys are stupid because all they care about are the three Ps.”
“No, what I’m saying is…all guys think about are the three Ps. We care about plenty of things, we just need a helpful reminder of what it is we should be caring about.” He points to a couple arguing down the hall. “Take those two, for example. Caitlyn is upset with Danny because he got drunk and hooked up with her friend at Christian’s party this past weekend.”
Poor Caitlyn. “Can’t say I blame her for being upset, that was a shitty thing to do.”
Oakley wags a finger. “Yes, it would be…if Caitlyn had made it a point to tell him not to get drunk and hook up with her friends. But she didn’t. Therefore, it’s not Danny’s fault. He had no idea it was a deal breaker for her.”
; You’ve got to be kidding me. “Are you serious—”
“Yes.” He karate chops his hand. “We’re simple creatures, boo. If you want us to do something, you need to tell us. If you don’t want us to do something…you need to tell us that, too. We’re not mind readers.”
Irritated, I open my locker. “I don’t even know how to respond to your brand of logic.”
“Knock it all you want, my friend. But I’m right.”
My mouth drops as I take in the large, pink and tan Louis Vuitton purse.
For a moment, I’m convinced I must have unlocked the wrong locker.
“What the fuck?”
Oakley whistles. “Damn. Someone dropped a pretty penny on that. Crystal has a few and those puppies ain’t cheap.”
“Cole,” I whisper, remembering the note. “Why would he do this?”
“Because his bitch ex-girlfriend threw yours in a toilet,” Cole says from behind me. “Figured you might need a new one.”
I did. My old purse from the local Walmart was so gross—thanks to swimming in toilet water—I had to throw it in the dumpster.
This is the nicest, most expensive thing anyone’s ever gotten me.
Which is exactly why I can’t accept it.
I turn to face him. “It’s beautiful.”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a small grin. “It’s a special editio—”
“Take it back.” Using Oakley’s brand of guy logic, I add, “I don’t want it.”
I don’t want him thinking he can buy me off.
I also don’t want other people thinking he can buy me off.
It was a sweet, thoughtful gesture—one I’m incredibly thankful for—but I’m not that girl.
I’m never going to be that girl.
No matter how many purses Cole buys me.
I’m never going to be Casey, Morgan, or any of the hundreds of other girls walking around school with a Louis bag.
I’m just Sawyer.
Poor, nerdy, Jesus-loving, fat girl Sawyer.
It’s all I’ll ever be.
Chapter 36
Cole
I’m pretty sure this is the first time a girl has ever turned down a designer bag.
“You don’t want it,” I repeat.
Goddamnit. Bianca told me she’d like it.
Not bothering to clarify or close her locker, Sawyer brushes past me. “I have to get to class.”
Dumbfounded, I look at Oakley. “She doesn’t want it.”
Oakley shrugs. “What can I tell you, man. Girls are stupid.”
Yeah, but not this girl. Something’s going on.
The hallway is almost clear by the time I catch up to her. “We need to talk.”
“By talk, do you mean bite my head off like you did on Saturday?”
“Is that why you don’t want the bag?”
I guess I could have been nicer about it, but she was going to reject my ass—which would make her a hypocrite because we both know she secretly wants me.
Sawyer is many things, but a liar isn’t one of them.
And if she stopped being stubborn and trying to resist me…we’d have a lot more fun for the duration of the bet.
She gives her head a shake. “I don’t have time for this, Cole. I’m late for class.”
“It’s homeroom. Nothing important happens there.”
She looks at me like I’m stupid. “Um, attendance does.”
She can sort that shit out later. My bone to pick with her takes precedence.
Refusing no for an answer, I grab her elbow and lead her into an empty classroom.
Then I stand in front of the door, blocking her from leaving.
She makes an irritated noise. “I don’t have time for your games—”
“What’s wrong with the bag?”
“Nothing. It’s beautiful.”
“Then why don’t you want it?”
Hitching her backpack up her shoulder, she groans. “I really don’t want to talk about this, okay?”
“Tough shit.”
She huffs, growing more irate with me by the second. “Look, I appreciate the gesture, it was really nice of you—”
“Then what’s the prob—”
“I’m not Casey,” she shouts. “I don’t have money, I’m not skinny, I don’t—”
“What’s your point?”
I’ve taken a lot of hits to the head playing football, but not so many I’m oblivious to shit.
She pokes her chest with her thumb. “My point is that I am okay with me not being any of those things…but it’s obvious you aren’t.”
I’m not sure how me buying her a birthday present made her come to that conclusion.
“It’s a fucking purse.”
“It’s not a fucking purse,” she counters. “It’s more than that. It’s…I am not them. And no matter how much shit you charge to your daddy’s credit card in hopes of making me trendy and popular so I’ll fit in and things will be easier for you…it won’t work.”
Her words sting.
They shouldn’t, but they do.
“That’s why you think I did it?”
She draws in a shaky breath. “Why else would you?”
I tell her the honest truth. “Because a spiteful bitch destroyed something of yours…and I wanted to fix it.”
Her eyes become glassy. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” I answer in frustration. “Because I fucking felt like it, all right?”
“Colton,” she presses.
“Casey ruined your shit because of me,” I growl. “If it was anyone else she fucked with, I wouldn’t care, but it wasn’t. It was you…and that’s a problem for me.”
She swallows hard. “Why is it a prob—”
She doesn’t get to finish her statement…because I crush my mouth against hers.
Unlike our last kiss, this one isn’t meant to tease and taunt her.
This one is carnal, unrestrained. A bomb detonating.
I lick the seam of her lips, urging her to part them for me.
The moment she does, I slide my tongue inside, ripping her bullshit contract to shreds.
I greedily explore every inch of her hot little mouth like a fiend. She tastes like innocence and fire…an intoxicating combination if there ever was one.
I might not remember our first kiss…but I’ll sure as fuck never forget this one.
Sliding my hands down her back, I give her plump ass a firm squeeze.
“That’s why,” I rasp into her mouth before I edge away.
“Oh.” A small smile unfurls. “That’s a pretty good reason.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Pretty good?” I lean in. “Fuck that, I can do better—”
She places her finger to my lips, stopping me. “Not so fast. As nice as that moment was…it also complicates things.”
“How so?”
Once more, she gives me that you’re an idiot look. “We’re fake dating, rem—”
“Are we?”
She’s the one who looks confused now. “Are we what?”
“Fake dating.”
There’s no way she can’t acknowledge this attraction between us.
As far as I’m concerned, the lines are blurred enough, we shouldn’t have to define what’s real and what’s not.
Or maybe we should.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Are we fake dating?” I repeat.
She blinks. “Is this a trick question?”
“If I told you it was real…that I wanted it to be real between us…what would you say?”
She looks uneasy. “I don’t…is that what you’re saying?”
The one and only thing my father ever taught me was to never show your hand until the opposing party shows theirs.
I don’t want to play games with Sawyer, but I need to know what’s inside her head.
Find out if she’s ready to test out the waters like I am.
“No. But if I was…what would your answer be?”
>
Blowing out a breath, she takes a few steps back. “I have no ide—”
“Don’t bullshit me, Bible Thumper.”
Her nostrils flare. “Okay, fine. If you told me you wanted us to date for real, I’d probably tell you…” She lifts her gaze to mine. “That I’d need a lot of time to think about it.”
She’s not saying no, but it’s not a yes either.
Smirking, I trace her lips with my thumb. “You’re late for class.”
Chapter 37
Sawyer
“You look different,” Bianca says, swiping her finger up and down. “Better somehow.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I hide my smirk as I place some books in my locker.
It’s been two weeks since I started taking Adderall, and in that timeframe, I’ve lost ten pounds.
I didn’t think anyone would notice, but this morning my mom told me my face looked less round and asked if I finally started that diet plan she sent me.
I guess Bianca’s starting to notice too.
“Oh, my God,” she whispers, inching closer. “You’re losing weight, aren’t you?”
I press my lips into a line, refusing to confirm or deny.
She knocks my shoulder with hers. “Smart move, Church. Shut these bitches up once and for all.”
“What do you mean?”
She rolls her eyes. “Casey’s convinced this whole thing between you and Cole is fake…people are starting to agree.”
“Oh.”
Shit.
Cole walks me to class every morning, we hold hands, eat lunch together.
Heck, I don’t even yell at him for trying to slip me tongue whenever he kisses me goodbye.
I don’t understand what we’re doing wrong.
I slam my locker shut. “I have to go.”
I need to find Cole so we can have a powwow and figure out how to fix this.
Fortunately, I spot him down the hall.
“We need to talk,” I hiss when I catch up with him.
Concern mars his face and he grabs my hand, leading me to the empty biology lab.
“What’s wrong?”
“Casey is going around telling everyone that our relationship is fake.”
He sighs. “Yeah, I know.”