Today’s lecture ends with the mercy of a condemned man’s execution. I stuff my notebook into my bag, hoping to escape before anyone notices my existence. Just one more class to survive, then I can hide in my bedroom until I meet up with Ashley.
“Vincent! Wait up!”
My stomach does a backflip. Ashley’s voice cuts through the classroom chatter, drawing way too many curious eyes my way. I freeze mid-step, one hand still clutching my backpack strap like it’s a lifeline.
Before I can make my escape, she’s beside me, her fingers interlacing with mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Her palm is warm against mine, sending an electric current up my arm that makes my breath catch.
“Hey,” she says, smiling up at me with a sweetness I’m not used to seeing on her face.
My eyes go wide, and I can feel the heat rushing to my cheeks. Suddenly I’m acutely aware of every person watching us. The classroom feels twenty degrees hotter.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, my voice strained.
Ashley leans in close, her lips nearly brushing my ear. “We have to pretend to date, remember? Part of the plan.”
“But... hand holding? In public?” I stammer, glancing nervously at our intertwined fingers.
She pulls back, eyebrows raised in amused disbelief. “You literally came inside me yesterday, and this is where you draw the line?”
My face goes from warm to nuclear meltdown. “No, I just... I didn’t expect it.”
“Well, get used to it,” she says, tugging me toward the door. “We need to sell this if we want Caroline and Dante to buy it.”
I let her lead me out into the hallway, trying desperately to look normal while my brain short-circuits from the simple contact of her skin against mine. It’s bizarre how this almost feels more intimate than what we did yesterday.
My hand feels sweaty in hers, and I’m terrified she’ll notice and be disgusted.
We push through the main building doors into the bright afternoon sunlight. Ashley keeps our fingers intertwined as we head toward the commuter lot where both our cars are parked.
“So, we should probably go on an actual date this weekend. Somewhere people will see us.”
Before I can respond, she suddenly stops walking, her grip on my hand tightening painfully.
“Oh my god,” she whispers, her eyes fixed on something ahead of us.
I follow her gaze and spot them immediately, Caroline and Dante walking about twenty feet in front of us. They’re laughing about something, Caroline’s head tilted back slightly as Dante gestures animatedly with his hands. The sunlight catches in Caroline’s hair, making it shine like polished mahogany.
“Oh my god, he’s so fucking hot,” Ashley breathes, staring at Dante like he’s water in a desert.
I squint, trying to see what she sees in him. Tall, broad shoulders, that annoyingly perfect blonde hair that probably takes an hour to style but is supposed to look effortless. Whenever I see Dante, he just looks like the default setting on a “create your douche” character generator. But then again, what do I know? The guy’s clearly doing something right.
A sleek red BMW convertible pulls up to the curb just ahead of where Caroline and Dante are walking. The top is down, revealing a girl with striking purple hair in an asymmetrical cut behind the wheel. There’s a guy in the passenger seat wearing sunglasses despite the clouds rolling in.
Dante spots them and raises his hand in greeting. The four of them exchange words we can’t hear from this distance, but their body language is easy, familiar. After a brief conversation, Caroline and Dante climb into the back seat of the convertible, and the car pulls away with a soft purr.
“That was Portia Royce,” Ashley says, her voice tight with something that sounds like envy. Her hand squeezes mine harder.
“Who?”
“Super rich girl. Transferred here last semester.” Ashley’s eyes are still fixed on the spot where the car vanished. “She’s poly. Swings with them sometimes.”
“Oh...” I process this new information, trying to picture Caroline with this purple-haired stranger. My brain helpfully supplies images I really don’t need right now. “Cool, I guess.”
Ashley suddenly turns to face me, her eyes blazing with renewed determination. “Come on, we need to get home. More practice. The faster we get good at this. The faster I can fuck Dante.”
I sigh, trying not to let her words sting. It’s not personal, I remind myself. This whole arrangement is transactional. I get to have sex with her now, and hopefully Caroline later. That’s the deal.
“Yeah,” I mutter, digging my keys from my pocket. “Your place or mine?”
“Yours,” she decides. “Mom’s working from home today.”
Caroline:
Portia: