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“How do you know what he looks like?”
“That’s what the internet is for, darling.” I hear clicking in the background.
“Are you stalking him?” My voice rises.
“No, it’s called research.”
“You’re insane.” I shake my head, but curiosity gets the best of me. “What are you seeing?”
“Ah, who’s insane now?” She chuckles. “He did, in fact, volunteer. He was last in Africa. I’m looking at his social media accounts. There isn’t much, but he has been tagged in some pictures by the organization he volunteered for. He is smooooking hot. Woo.” She sounds as if she’s out of breath.
“He’s really nice,” I say.
Somehow it doesn’t feel right to only talk about Tristan’s looks. If everything he told me is true, which it seems Daisy has corroborated through internet stalking, then he’s more than a handsome face.
“Yeah, nice. And hot.“ She emphasizes the word hot from the back of her throat like she’s speaking German or something.
“You’re ridiculous,” I laugh, falling onto my side on the bed.
“That did come out weird, huh?” She joins me, and soon we’re both laughing so hard that we can’t get a word out. My stomach cramps and it feels so good to relax and let go.
“Okay,” Daisy says once she catches her breath. “I love talking to you, but I need to go. Let me know what happens. And say yes, S. If you won the lottery, would you turn it down?”
“No, but I didn’t sign up for this game.”
“Spontaneity is the best prize. Bye!” With that, she hangs up, getting in the last word.
I drop back on my bed, crashing my head into the headboard. I grimace and rub the spot. Daisy’s advice contradicts my decision to decline Tristan’s offer. I can see her point.
The way Tristan raced out of the coffee shop this afternoon was so unlike him. He didn’t seem like someone trying to manipulate me into accepting money when he told me his plan. He actually looked a bit worried and embarrassed but hopeful. I wonder what happened to cause such a change in his demeanor.
At first, I thought it was because I hadn’t agreed to his proposal, although I knew that wasn’t exactly the case. He gave me time to think about it, and he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to randomly get upset over something like that. Maybe he got bad news about his trust fund.
Why would his parents keep it from him? If they planned on doing that, then why would they bother to create it in the first place?
Questions plague me.
I have a feeling there’s a lot more about the Remingtons that I don’t know. If I accept this plan, I may find out everything about them, and it’ll all make more sense. The idea of deceiving people doesn’t sit right with me, though. Morally, it’s wrong, but I need the money.
My eyes land on the stack of bills on my desk. I purse my lips and glare at them as if they’re insulting me. I didn’t ask to get sick.
Sighing, I remove my earrings and stare at the science flasks. My love for funky earrings started a long time ago. I call it a collection. Daisy calls it an obsession.
Right now, it’s reminding me of my dreams.
Daisy has a point. I can still live my life and have friends. I may not be the perfect candidate for a real-life relationship since no one would want to deal with my illness, but I can be a great fake girlfriend for both of our benefits if it means I’ll breathe a little easier knowing my bills are paid.
Then, the salary I make from work can actually go to something productive. Not that my health isn’t worth the expense. Ugh, I’m getting too tied up in my clashing thoughts. I’m not even making sense to myself.
Ultimately, it won’t hurt anyone if that money comes from him.
6
Tristan
“Have you decided what you’re going to do on Saturday?” I ask Hudson, leaning against the counter.
I wipe the sweat off my face with the hem of my t-shirt and grab some water from the fridge. Nothing beats starting the day with a rigorous workout.
