The day Ethan Cole threw a stack of cash at me and announced that I was his girlfriend, everyone at Saint Lawrence Prep assumed the poor scholarship girl had finally found a price. What they did not know was that I had already overheard why he wanted me distracted, and before the week was over, I would be charging other girls for the privilege of finding him.
Chapter 1
The day Ethan Cole threw a stack of cash at me and announced that I was his girlfriend, everyone at Saint Lawrence Prep assumed the poor scholarship girl had finally found a price. What they did not know was that I had already overheard why he wanted me distracted, and before the week was over, I would be charging other girls for the privilege of finding him.
It started after I ranked first in the school again.
When the results were posted outside the academic office, Olivia Whitmore stared at the board for three seconds and ran away crying. Olivia was everything Saint Lawrence admired: wealthy, polished, blond, graceful, and raised by parents whose names appeared on buildings. She had been expected to take first place in the Massachusetts Senior Scholars qualifying exam.
Instead, my name was above hers.
Mia Carter.
Scholarship student.
Daughter of nobody important.
Granddaughter of a retired mechanic who counted every prescription before payday.
My best friend Harper nudged my elbow.
“You’re in trouble.”
“Why?”
“Because Ethan is going to come after you.”
I knew Ethan Cole by reputation. His father sat on the school board, his family owned half a dozen businesses around Boston, and Ethan was captain of the football team. Teachers tolerated him, boys admired him, and girls acted as if breathing the same hallway air counted as romance.
That afternoon, he was waiting beside a black SUV near the subway entrance.
“You’re Mia?”
I tightened my grip on my backpack.
“Yes.”
He pulled a thick envelope from his jacket.
“Starting today, you’re my girlfriend.”
I stared at the money.
Then at him.
“Are meals included?”
His eyebrows pulled together.
“What?”
“If I’m your girlfriend, do I get lunch?”
He looked as if no one had ever answered him incorrectly before.
“What kind of lunch?”
“A turkey sandwich would be fine. Pickles if possible.”
For a moment, he almost laughed.
Then he handed me the envelope.
“You’re really agreeing?”
I took the money.
“I need to keep my grades up.”
His expression hardened slightly.
“I don’t want a girlfriend who spends every free minute studying.”
There it was.
I tilted my head.
“So you want more of my time.”
“Yes.”
“Then you’ll have to cover what I lose from work.”
“What work?”
“Coffee shop. Four nights a week.”
He stared at me.
“How broke are you?”
“Enough to know exactly what every hour costs.”
He looked away first.
“Fine. Meet me at lunch tomorrow.”
I walked toward the subway.
Then, because poverty teaches you to distrust gifts, I doubled back.
Ethan was still beside the SUV, talking on his phone.
“She agreed,” he said.
A pause.
Then his voice softened.
“Olivia, stop crying. Once the qualifying round is over, she won’t have enough time to compete with you.”
I stood behind the brick wall and listened.
That was the truth.
Olivia had asked Ethan to distract me.
They thought money would make me careless.
I nearly laughed.
Being poor had never made me weak.
It had made me practical.
The next day, Ethan appeared outside my classroom at lunch, and half the hallway stopped moving.
Olivia sat frozen at her desk.
I walked past her.
“What are we eating?”
Ethan glanced at me.
“Do you think about anything besides food?”
“Tuition.”
He blinked.
“College application fees.”
He stopped walking.
“My grandfather’s medication.”
Then I added, “And food.”
He said nothing after that.
At the cafeteria, he pushed roast chicken, soup, fruit, two muffins, and milk toward me.
“All this is mine?”
“Yes.”
The soup was hot.
I had forgotten how much that could matter.
Ethan watched me take the first spoonful.
“You look like you’re going to cry.”
“It’s steam.”
“You’re nowhere near the bowl.”
“Very aggressive steam.”
He almost smiled.
That afternoon, on the bus to work, two girls from another private school sat in front of me discussing Ethan.
“I heard he has a girlfriend.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“I’d pay twenty bucks just to know where he hangs out after practice.”
I slowly removed one earbud.
“Excuse me.”
They turned.
“Would you actually pay?”
Ten minutes later, I had my first customer.
I texted Ethan.
Where are you?
His reply came two minutes later.
Why?
I thought carefully.
I miss you. Never mind. I’ll go study.
His answer arrived immediately.
Don’t study. I’m at the gym. Back gate in thirty minutes.
Then he sent me fifty dollars.
Buy dinner.
I stared at my phone.
One boyfriend.
Two income streams.
At the back gate, the girl saw Ethan and nearly screamed. She paid me immediately and added me to a group chat called Where Is Ethan Today?
Sixty-three members.
I looked at the screen and realized something important.
Some girls dated rich boys.
I had accidentally created a small business.
