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My mouth clamps shut as I glare at Drew. “She doesn’t belong to Ryan.”She belongs to me.
Whoa, where did that thought come from?She isn’t property. I don’t own her. But the idea of him and her together doesn’t settle well with me. Not at all.
“She’s her own person,” I say between clenched teeth.
Andrew tosses his head back and laughs. “This is classic.”
I’m about to protest when Ryan’s text alert dings a few times in a row. He digs it out of his pocket and frowns. “Shit. We need to go save Amanda.”
What the hell?
“What do you mean ‘to save her?’” I push to my feet, my heart beating fast. Never mind that all eyes are directed at me. If Amanda is in trouble, I want to help her.
Ryan’s gaze meets mine. “Maddy says to get our asses down to Captain’s Cup and rescue your girlfriend. Juliette’s posse are talking shit about her.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Why hadn’t I thought about the bunnies mistreating her?
I don’t need this drama. We have this arrangement in the first place for this very reason. But as much as I don’t need it, neither does Amanda. This will only deter her from studying.
“Goddamn Juliette. This is why they remade Mean Girls. Females forgot they aren’t supposed to pit themselves against each other,” I grumble as I grab the keys and head to the door. Then it hits. That’s the source. We had told Juliette we were a couple at the bookstore, who must’ve blabbed to those girls that bombarded me after practice.
Ryan steps beside me. “I’m going with.”
I don’t protest as we get in the car. He remains quiet until we’re a block from the parking lot on campus.
“Since when did Amanda become your girlfriend?” There’s an edge to his voice, but I can’t tell if he’s being protective or staking a claim.
“Since last night.” I give him a side-eye glance. “You good with that?”
“I mean. I didn’t know it was serious between you, but this is out of character. You don’t do girlfriends. And you’ve only been on one date. Man, if you’re using her?—”
“Careful,” I snap, sharper than I intended. The word hangs heavy between us as my heart races—dammit, why? I clear my throat and calm the fuck down. “I would never use Amanda.”
The line etched between his brows deepens. “Just be careful, okay? She’s not like the others.”
I grip the steering wheel tighter and ignore the heat prickling at the back of my neck. “I’m not using her.”
But am I? The question coils around my thoughts like a snake waiting to strike. I shove it down, burying it under layers of denial. I’m Blake Morton, master of the fake-out, the strategic play. Yet Ryan’s words cling and tug at my conscience.
“Look, Ryan, I appreciate the concern. But back off.” I force a laugh, hollow even to my ears. “I’ve got this under control.”
He eyes me, unconvinced, then finally nods, leaning back himself. There’s a moment where the air between us holds a challenge before he breaks it with a shake of his head. “All right, your call. Just … don’t mess it up, Captain.”
I rake a hand through my hair, the strands slipping between my fingers like the reasons I keep telling myself this is all pretend.
“Game on,” I murmur. It’s a challenge or a promise. But who am I playing against? Amanda or myself? Because suddenly, I’m not so sure I know the rules anymore.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
AMANDA
The bellabove Captain’s Cup’s door chimes a sharp sound, slicing through the quiet chatter and grinding of coffee beans. The book I’m holding slips out of my grasp and nearly misses my foot as my heart does an involuntary flip at the sight of Blake Morton sauntering in, flanked by Ryan Sorenson. The room tilts slightly as my attention focuses on the two of them.
“There they are,” Ryan jabs an elbow into Blake’s side, nodding subtly in my direction.
Our eyes meet across the room, and Blake’s lips curve upward. He’s got that slow-motion thing happening, where every step seems purposeful, each movement part of some grand entrance. It’s like the air parts for him, and every whisper of his presence demands attention—especially mine.
