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 2
Within two weeks, the group had ninety members.
I asked Ethan where he was several times a day. If he complained, I sent messages like, Sorry, I just feel insecure. No one has ever treated me like this.
It worked with frightening consistency.
He would answer with his location.
Then ask if I had eaten.
Then send money.
I posted the location to the group and received more money.
Harper discovered the arrangement when she saw me updating a spreadsheet.
She nearly spilled her coffee.
“You are selling your fake boyfriend.”
“Yes.”
“This is insane.”
“Yes.”
“He could kill you.”
“That would interfere with revenue.”
“Mia.”
I looked at my medication budget.
“Grandpa’s prescriptions are covered through next month.”
Harper went quiet.
That was the problem with poverty.
People liked to judge what you did to survive until they saw the bill.
My parents had died before I entered high school. Dad was a firefighter who never came home from a warehouse fire. Mom had been an emergency-room nurse, and after years of carrying everyone else’s suffering, illness took her too.
Grandpa raised me.
He never complained about money.
That was how I knew we had none.
One evening, while I was working behind the counter at the coffee shop, Ethan walked in with Olivia.
I kept my cap low.
Olivia clung to his sleeve.
“Are you getting too close to her?”
“She’s clingy,” Ethan said.
His tone sounded annoyed.
His smile did not.
“She asks where I am all day.”
“Does she like you?”
“Obviously.”
Olivia frowned.
“If she really likes you, why hasn’t she ever bought you anything?”
The next morning, I handed Ethan a paper bag containing two discounted bagels.
He stared inside.
“This is my gift?”
“Yes.”
“After everything I’ve bought you?”
I lowered my eyes.
“I wanted to save the money for college.”
His expression changed.
“I bought these with my own breakfast money.”
That was true.
“They were half price because they’re from yesterday.”
He stopped looking irritated.
“Mia.”
“What?”
“Doesn’t anyone take care of you?”
I hated that question.
Not because it was cruel.
Because it was kind.
“My grandfather does.”
“And your parents?”
I told him.
Not dramatically.
Just the facts.
My father died doing his job. My mother died after getting sick. Grandpa’s legs were bad. Medication was expensive.
Ethan held the paper bag like it had become heavier.
For once, he had no clever answer.
“Stop buying old bread.”
“New bread costs more.”
“I’ll bring breakfast.”
“For free?”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes, Mia. For free.”
“Can you bring something for Grandpa?”
He stared at me.
Then laughed quietly.
“Fine.”
The next morning he appeared outside class with two bags and a thermos.
There were eggs, fruit, oatmeal, milk, coffee, and an extra container marked FOR GRANDPA.
Harper watched me unpack everything.
“This relationship is becoming alarmingly nutritious.”
“Fake relationship.”
“With real blueberries.”
Breakfast became a routine.
Then something else changed.
Ethan started noticing things.
My cracked phone case.
The tape holding my calculator together.
The way I saved half a muffin for later.
The reminders on my phone for Grandpa’s medication.
One Friday night, he insisted on walking me home after work.
“You know this is stalking,” I said.
“You’re my girlfriend.”
“Fake.”
He shoved his hands into his coat pockets.
“You sell my location to strangers. I can walk you home once.”
I stopped.
“What did you say?”
He kept walking two steps before turning.
For the first time, he looked unsure.
Before either of us spoke, Grandpa opened our apartment door.
He leaned on his cane.
“Mia, is that the boy who bought you?”
Ethan choked.
“Grandpa.”
“What? You told me.”
Ethan stared at me.
I stepped inside.
“Temporary contract.”
Grandpa looked Ethan up and down.
“Does the contract include breakfast?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dishwashing?”
Ethan hesitated.
Grandpa pointed toward the kitchen.
“If you bring food, you can stay. If you bring trouble, you wash dishes.”
That was how Saint Lawrence Prep’s golden boy ended up at our tiny kitchen sink washing a chipped mug.
But he had not forgotten what he said outside.
And neither had I.
Three days later, the school forum exploded.
Someone posted screenshots from Where Is Ethan Today?
By lunch, everyone knew.
Girls whispered as I walked past.
“She sold his schedule.”
“That’s pathetic.”
“That’s so cheap.”
I looked at one of them.
“So is tuition.”
She stopped talking.
Ethan found me in the stairwell after school.
No audience.
No grin.
His eyes were red.
“Mia.”
I waited.
“Was there ever one second when you actually thought about me?”
For once, I had no joke.
Then anger arrived.
“Was there ever one second when you thought about me before Olivia asked you to?”
He froze.
I stepped closer.
“You paid me to get distracted.”
His face went pale.
“I knew from the first day.”
“Mia—”
“You wanted me busy enough to lose first place.”
“It changed.”
“For you.”
He had no answer.
I moved past him.
“You handed me money because you thought my future was cheaper than Olivia’s tears.”
He did not follow.
That night, no money came.
For the first time, I was glad.
Then Olivia made her next move.
And it was much worse.
