Tuesday morning I become a ghost in my own school. I take the long way to every class, adding ten minutes to each trip just to avoid the main hallway where Caleb holds court like some kind of leather-clad king.
I duck into bathrooms when I spot anyone wearing a varsity jacket, circle through the science wing twice to avoid his usual hangout spots.
I've memorized his schedule by accident—or maybe on purpose—and I use it to stay invisible. When he's in the gym, I'm in the library. When he's at his locker, I'm hiding in the chapel no one uses anymore.
I'm almost to third period, so close to safety, when his voice stops me dead.
"Why are you hiding, bunny?"
I spin around and there he is, leaning against the lockers like he's been waiting for hours. Like he knew exactly where I'd be. The nickname—bunny—makes my stomach do something complicated that I refuse to examine.
"I'm not hiding." The lie tastes obvious. "I'm going to class."
"By way of Canada?" He pushes off the wall, moving closer with that predator grace that makes everyone step aside. "You've been avoiding me all morning. Saw you duck into the girls' room when I came around the corner earlier."
Before I can deny it, before I can even process being caught, Brittany appears like she's been summoned. The same cheerleader from the roof, the one who was screaming his name while I watched like some perverted voyeur.
She slides her hand up Caleb's arm, slow and deliberate, her perfectly manicured fingers tracing the edge of the tattoo peeking from his sleeve. "Hey, Cal."
Cal. She calls him Cal like she owns that version of him.
"You coming to practice later?" Her voice drops to something suggestive. "Could use some company in the equipment room. You know, like last time."
Her smile says everything. Promises everything. The equipment room, where everyone knows people go to do things that would make my father drag me to confession just for thinking about.
Caleb gives her this slow, knowing smile—the kind that probably melts her insides. "Maybe."
That's all he says, but it's enough. Brittany practically glows as she walks away, hips swaying, throwing one last look over her shoulder.
Something sharp twists in my chest, hot and unexpected. It's not jealousy. It can't be jealousy because this isn't real.
It's fear—practical fear—that if he gets distracted by other girls, he'll break our deal. Then V4L comes back, the humiliation starts again, and I'm right back where I started.
I must not hide it well because Caleb's eyes find mine, dark with amusement. "Bunny, is that jealousy on your face?"
He moves closer to me, too close. "Actually... I kind of like it. Didn't think good girls got possessive."
My face burns hotter than the seventh circle of hell. "I'm not jealous. I just need you to stick to our arrangement."
"Our arrangement." He laughs, but there's something sharp in it. He leans down, his breath warm against my ear, and I hate how my body responds instantly. "So what, now I can't play with other toys? We're not real, remember?"
The words sting more than they should. They shouldn't sting at all. But my heart does this stupid tightening thing that makes no sense because he's right.
This is fake. All of it. Every touch, every claim, every mark on my neck.
I nod because words might reveal something I don't want to admit.
"Good." He straightens, and before I can process what's happening, he grabs my hand.
His fingers lace through mine like they belong there, warm and sure and completely overwhelming.
"Come on," he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Time to give them a show."
He pulls me into the main hallway and it's like stepping onto a stage. Our joined hands might as well be outlined in neon. People stop mid-conversation to stare. Phones appear from pockets and bags like everyone's been waiting for this moment.
The whispers start immediately, a wave of sound that follows us down the hall.
"Are they seriously holding hands?"
"That's so couple-y."
"She must be paying him extra for PDA."
"Look how red she is. She's gonna combust."
I want to disappear, want to melt into the floor and cease existing. But I force myself to keep my head up, to look like a girl who belongs with Caleb Voss. Like having his hand in mine is normal and not currently short-circuiting my entire nervous system.
His thumb strokes across my knuckles, casual and possessive, and I hate how it makes my pulse race. How such a small touch can make me forget my own name.
Caleb seems to thrive on the chaos, smirking at the attention like he's won something. And maybe he has. Everyone's watching us, believing we're together, forgetting about V4L for the moment.
We're almost to my history class when Mr. Brennan materializes in our path like the world's most disappointing roadblock. His arms are crossed, his expression could freeze hell twice over.
"Mr. Voss." Each word sounds like a threat. "One last chance to retake yesterday's test. Tomorrow’s afternoon, my classroom. Fail it and you get an F for the quarter."
Caleb's jaw tightens, the hand holding mine grips slightly harder.
"That F means no basketball," Mr. Brennan continues, driving the nail deeper. "No basketball means no scholarship possibilities. Understood?"
"Crystal." The word comes out clipped, dangerous.
Mr. Brennan's eyes move to our joined hands, then to my flushed face, and I see the judgment there. The assumptions.
"Miss Harper, I hope you're not the reason for Mr. Voss's recent academic decline."
He walks away before I can respond, before I can defend myself against the accusation that I'm ruining Caleb's future just by existing near him.
Once he's gone, Caleb turns to me, still holding my hand like it's his anchor. "I have a new demand for our deal."
My stomach drops to my shoes. "What?"
"You're going to tutor me for that retake." He pulls me closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne mixed with something uniquely him. His voice drops low, intimate. "You're coming to my house after school tomorrow."
"Why me?" My voice cracks. "You could get anyone—there are actual tutors, people who get paid—"
"Because you need your perfect reputation intact, babygirl." His free hand comes up, tilts my chin so I have to look at him. His eyes are so dark they're almost black. "And that means doing everything I say. Unless you want to go back to being V4L?"
The threat hangs between us. I should refuse. Going to his house, alone, is dangerous for reasons that have nothing to do with my reputation and everything to do with the way my body responds to him like he owns it.
But the alternative is worse. Going back to being Virgin for Life, having everyone laugh at me again, losing whatever strange protection his claim provides.
"What time?" The words come out as a whisper.
His smile is pure victory, the kind that makes me understand why girls line up to let him destroy them. "Four o'clock. Don't be late."
He releases my hand and walks away, leaving me standing in the hallway with everyone still staring. My palm feels cold without his, which is ridiculous and pathetic and true.
Tomorrow I'll cross a line I promised myself I'd never cross. Going to Caleb Voss's house, alone, pretending it's just tutoring when we both know it's something else entirely.
And as strange as it may sound…
I'm already counting down the hours.