Chapter Four

Zach

Standing next to the curb, I pull my phone out of my pocket, checking the time.

Where the hell is she?

It's four twenty. Classes ended an hour ago, and she still hasn't walked out of those doors. That pink monstrosity she calls a car is the only one left in the parking lot, so I know she's here. I just have no idea where.

The car sparkles in the sun, and I cringe because whoever signed off on that hideous paint job should be shot. I mean, seriously, Barbie pink? Why would any self-respecting person paint a car that color? Especially one that costs half a million dollars.

My head turns sharply when the doors to the school open, and I smile.

Honey.

Walking out of school, she adjusts her obnoxiously large sunglasses and clutches her books to her chest as she walks through the parking lot. I sidestep to hide behind a tree and watch her stride toward her car. Brett was right; her skirt seems shorter than usual, and it only emphasizes her long, lean legs as it flips with each step she takes. Honestly, if I were into rich snobs, I'd be all over Honey like a fly to… well, honey. Girl's hot. Too bad she's sour as shit.

When she opens her car door, I know this is my one and only chance to speak to her privately.

"Honey," I call out, jogging up behind her.

Her back straightens, she shucks her designer bag over her shoulder and flicks her hair. I know she heard me, but she doesn't turn. She probably thinks I'm like the rest of the people in school—ready to knock the queen down a peg or two. She can pretend all she wants that the sniggers and comments haven't affected her, but it's easy to see the cracks in her demeanor if you look close enough. Her jaw tenses, her fingers twitch, and her breathing slows, but no one cares to pay attention.

From what I can tell, after watching her for one day, Honey hates being the butt of jokes, so she must be hating school right now.

I call her name again, and after lifting her sunglasses, she slowly turns, showing the dark circles under her eyes. She takes me in, then her brows furrow when our eyes lock. What does she think I will do? Record this for prosperity?

I stalk forward, approaching her like she's a frightened animal, and smile when she doesn't run immediately. That's a good sign, right? "How's it going?" I ask, still careful with my steps. I feel ridiculous. She and I haven't spoken in the three years I've gone to this school, yet here I am, asking how she is and pretending we shoot the shit on the regular.

She shifts from heel to heel, glancing around. "Uh, hey, Zach." Well, that's a surprise. She knows my name. I always thought I wasn't high enough in the wealth bracket for her to notice me. I guess all those touchdowns I've helped score are hard to ignore. "Did you want something?" She raises one of her perfectly threaded eyebrows, a pinched expression marring her symmetrical face.

"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you." Her eyes widen, and I grin.

"Me?" She points at herself and looks around at the empty parking lot as though I must be confused. That or she's looking for someone to save her from the poor kid.

"Yeah, how's it going?" Her eyes narrow as she watches me. Her fingers are twitching and her bottom lip quivers. What does she think I'm going to do? Ask her about the Jamie incident?

"I meant generally. You know? As in a ‘ how's it going, buddy ' kind of way?" I nudge her shoulder with my hand, instantly regretting it. No one touches the queen without her permission, and I did. "Not because I feel bad for you or anything." I close my eyes, cringing.

Way to go, Zach. You're making this worse.

She drops her head and covers her face. "God, I must look pathetic if even you're making fun of me."

Ignoring the spite in her words because I expect nothing less from her, I stand up a little straighter, emphasizing my height against her petite frame. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," she quips, visibly surprised by my challenge.

"Nothing except if the poor kid is making fun of you, then you must be at a new low, right? That's what you were thinking."

She goes quiet, draping her shoulder-length honey hair toward her face to cover her blushing cheeks, then mumbles something as she opens her car door and tosses her books into the passenger seat.

"Is there something you wanted? I'm late for my elocution lessons."

What the hell are elocution lessons? I shake my head, ridding myself of all the questions because it's not the time to prove her poor stereotype by asking.

"Yes." She bends forward, putting her Chanel bag in the floorboard of the passenger seat. My gaze trickles down her back, below the blazer, to the pleated fabric. Inch by inch, her smooth, silky thighs slowly come into view, and I find myself concentrating harder than I did on that math problem today. Does she know how much that skirt creeps up when she bends over? Again, not a time to ask.

"Are you into role-play?"

What. The. Fuck. Did. I. Just. Say?!

She whips her head, her eyes shooting daggers at me. Totally deserved this time, and somehow, I need to get this conversation back on track. "What the hell are you talking about?" she yells, her face redder than I've ever seen it. Well, at least that got her attention.

"Just wait." I raise my hands and take another step forward. She narrows her gaze on me but, again, doesn't move away. When I'm close enough, I place one my hands on her shoulder, and she glares at my fingers but doesn't move away. "So, I had this idea."

She scowls at me. "Nothing good ever started with a jock having an idea."

"Okay," I mutter. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"If this is your way of telling me you can wake me up on the right side now that I'm single, I'm not interested." I step back, startled by her response.

Sex. She thinks I'm only interested in screwing her? Is that all she thinks I care about? I guess that stupid comment about role-play hasn't helped my case, but it's easy to get tongue-tied when she stares at you.

I tilt my head, my jaw ticking, but I try to remain calm because I need her on my side if we're going to make this work. "Not exactly. But I have an idea, and I want you to hear me out before saying no."

"Sounds like you already think I'm going to say no."

"I hope not." I grin wider, elbowing her lightly. She stands still, just as icy as when I first called her name. When she doesn't come back with a snarky response, I keep going. "I think we should pretend to date."

I pause there, feeling out her body language, but all I'm met with is a blank stare. Not even a crease on her forehead is visible. Her wide devoid eyes stare back at me, making me feel like I'm going to hurl.

"Think about it," I say, because anything's better than standing here with her silent glare. "It makes perfect sense."

Silence.

She blinks, and then finally, her face contorts. "No, it doesn't. It makes no sense. At all."

I wave my hand, dismissing her immediate rejection because, yeah, it sounds crazy if you haven't been on the journey with me, but I'm determined to convince her otherwise. "You promised you'd let me finish before you said anything."

"No, I didn't." My, my, she's as prickly as I thought she'd be. I kind of like it.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. "There's a bet." When I'm met with nothing but silence, I open my eyes with a satisfied smile, happy that I finally got that off my chest. I may not know the girl well, but she deserves respect.

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Everything." I pause, letting that sink in. "It's actually about you."

Huffing out a breath, she tilts her head, waiting for me to continue. Her amber eyes burn into mine, and I scratch the back of my head, figuring out the best way to phrase this. Like football, I practiced everything I would say, but now that I'm here and everything rides on Honey agreeing to my suggestion, I've become a little tongue-tied.

"The guys were talking about you in the locker room yesterday." Her eyebrow twitches, but her lips remain pursed and tight. She's probably used to the chat. She's been the talk of the school for the last week. "They were joking about how they all wanted a piece of the Sanderson cash now that Jamie rocked the boat and cheated on you." She swallows and crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back onto her car. Her body is stiff, but she stares at me, waiting for me to say my piece. "So they decided to make a bet on it. Each of them has a ten-thousand-dollar stake, and whoever wins gets the full fifty grand pot. I believe the winner is whoever you're dating at the end of the football season."

There's another moment of silence, then she pushes her large lips out, moving them from side to side in what I hope is contemplation.

Maybe I've got her hooked.

Flicking her honey-colored hair over her shoulder, she shuts the passenger door, spinning on her high heels as she walks to the other side. I follow her like a hapless puppy.

"Wait, don't you care?"

Her eyes pierce into mine over her shoulder, and she shrugs. "Let them play their stupid games and waste their money. I'm not stupid enough to go near a football player ever again."

She stretches one of her long, toned legs to get in her car. The girl seemed ballsier than she was the other day when she bawled her eyes out to Olivia. Still, that backbone doesn't help me get what I need. She sits, pulling the door that I'm clutching. I'm losing her fast, and if it wasn't for my big body blocking her, she'd be gone already.

"See, that's the thing. Jamie wins the bet if you don't go near a football player." Her fingers twitch on the handle.

Gotcha.

"He knows that none of them have a chance with you because your parents won't approve and you always do as daddy says. Thinks he can treat you like shit and you'll be back groveling at his door soon enough."

Her knuckles go white as she grips the handle harder. There we go. I need to keep milking the Jamie angle because no matter what kind of front she puts up, he hurt her more than she'd ever admit.

"Imagine that. He's already humiliated you in front of the entire school—potentially the entire state, and now he's going to make money off that humiliation until you're forced to date him again. Do you really want that to happen?"

Without warning, she gets out of the car, pushing into my personal space, so I can smell her flowery perfume. Smells like the expensive shit Tiffany tries from those samples she gets in magazines. Usually, I hate the heavy scent, but it suits Honey. It makes her smell decadent and untouchable.

"What's in it for you?" She's right to question me with her narrowed eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm the scholarship kid. Fifty grand will do a lot for me. But I'd be willing to split it with you. I know you've got more money than sense, but rumor has it that your dad is more than a little controlling." She snorts out, leaning closer before pushing back to rest against her car's side. "May not be much, but imagine having twenty-five K that your dad doesn't know about?" I don't even know if that's a lot of money for a girl like her. Maybe it's the equivalent of ten bucks in her world, but I've got to try something; I need to make mine and my family's lives easier.

Pointing to where her unnecessarily large bag sits, I say, "You could probably get yourself one more of those fancy purses."

"Why even tell me about it? You could have asked me out on a date and kept the money all to yourself."

A slow smirk forms on my face, and her eyes flicker to my lips. "Come on, Honey. Are you trying to tell me that you'd say yes to the scholarship kid if he asked you out on a date?" Her gaze darts back to mine, and her eyes widen ever so slightly. "Exactly. So, there's that." The tiniest hint of pink taints her cheeks, and I feel bad because I didn't want to embarrass her; I just wanted to get my point across. "But also… I need a loan."

"A loan?"

"Yeah, for the initial stake of ten thousand dollars. It's the only way to join the bet and tick off those rich bastards."

Her jaw tenses ever so slightly. "This all sounds ridiculous. Are you sure you're not trying to con me out of ten thousand dollars?"

"What? Why would I do that?"

"You just said you needed the money." She raises a brow, looking at me as though she's caught me in a lie.

"Please, I can think of much better ways to con a rich girl out of cash." I wiggle my brows with a heavy innuendo. She lowers her chin, leading me to look at the slightly reddish tone of her collarbone. Is she embarrassed? "Besides, I'd rather con a bunch of rich pricks out of theirs instead."

"But they're your teammates."

"Exactly, they aren't my friends; they are all assholes, except for Mike, of course." The mention of his name makes me think of something. "You know what? If you don't believe me, ask Mike about the bet. He was there, and when I mentioned it to him, he didn't think it was a big deal. I know he wasn't planning on telling you, but he's the worst liar. He'll confirm it's legit."

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head with an exasperated breath, then looks around the parking lot. Once she's confirmed we're alone, she pushes into my space again. "If you're lying and adding further stress to my life, you know I will crush your tiny balls in my hands until I have to get a new manicure, right?"

I stare at her blankly for a minute, unable to get that image out of my mind. I swear my balls shrivel. "I'm not lying. I wouldn't risk my balls like that."

Leaning one arm over the car, she thinks it over before shaking her head. "Your whole idea is ridiculous. Even if the football team has a bet on me, it's not like anyone will believe you and I are dating." She scoffs.

Tilting my head, I study her face for the first time. She's always been prone to a heavier makeup look than I like, but today, it seems the dark liner has faded and her lashes are a little lighter. Without it, I can see the delicateness of her features: perfectly narrowed eyebrows, a small nose but full lips. She kind of reminds me of a doll.

"Why's that?"

She pops her hip and takes me in. "You know why," she says. I get it. No one will believe the richest girl in the state is fawning over the poorest boy in South Point, but that's why I'm here. To change that narrative.

"Then let's surprise them," I challenge. "No one will ever suspect that you'd look at the scholarship kid, let alone call him your boyfriend. Imagine how humiliating it will be for Jamie to know you picked me over him. That you're now dating the best quarterback this school has ever seen and not some second-string monstrosity with a tiny dick." She bites her lip. Yeah, she's seen his tiny peen. "Bet kissing the kid your father pays to be here will tick your parents off a little too."

Honey sighs, checking her watch one last time. "Look, I've got to go. I'm really late now."

She turns away, leaving me hanging without an answer, but I don't want to push my luck, so I rest my palm on the roof of her car—the paint job is textured, which means it was done incorrectly, making it even more of a travesty—and lean in. "Ask Mike. He'll tell you about it, and then let me know your thoughts."

She mumbles something inaudible, and I move out of the way so she can shut the door. Peeling out, she leaves me standing there with no answer or confirmation that she'll think about it, but for some crazy reason, I'm hopeful. I've got no idea if she'll agree to this plan or not, but I'm not done trying. This is only the start for Honey.