Chapter 2 — The Deal
873 Words
I told myself I wasn't going to think about him.
And for exactly four days, I didn't.
I went to lectures, ate my meals at the same corner table in the cafeteria, submitted my first assignment two days early, and successfully avoided any unnecessary eye contact with Zane Carter in BIO 215.
It was going really well, actually.
Until Thursday.
I heard the commotion before I saw it.
It was coming from the corridor outside the library — raised voices, the kind that made everyone within a twenty-metre radius instinctively slow down and pretend they weren't listening.
I wasn't going to stop. I had a practical report due Friday and absolutely zero interest in other people's problems.
But then I heard my name.
"Ava Mitchell?" A girl's voice, sharp and carrying. "The scholarship girl? Seriously, Zane?"
I stopped.
I know. I know. I should have kept walking. But hearing your name come out of a stranger's mouth with that much attitude does something to your feet.
I edged close enough to see around the corner without being seen.
There were three of them — Zane and two girls. One of them I recognized immediately. Keira Hanson. Campus royalty, president of two clubs, the kind of beautiful that knew exactly what it was doing. She was standing with her arms folded, looking at Zane like he'd personally offended her entire bloodline.
"She's nobody," Keira said flatly.
"Then why do you care?" Zane said.
Calm. Almost bored.
"Because you've been sitting next to her in every lecture this week and people are talking—"
"People can talk."
"Zane." Her voice dropped. "We had an agreement."
"We had a conversation," he corrected.
"That's different."
I'd heard enough.
I turned to leave — and walked straight into Zane Carter for the second time in one week.
He caught my arm before I could stumble. Again.
I shook him off immediately.
"Do you just appear out of nowhere?" I whispered, furious.
"Do you always eavesdrop outside libraries?" he whispered back, and there it was — that infuriating almost-smile.
"I heard my name—"
"I know." He glanced back toward the corridor, then at me. Something shifted in his expression. The amusement faded, replaced by something more calculated. "Walk with me."
"Excuse me?"
"Just — walk. Please." The please surprised me enough that I actually moved.
We ended up at the far end of the car park, which felt dramatic, but I let it happen because I was curious and I was already late for nothing.
Zane leaned against a wall and looked at me for a long moment.
"I need a favour," he said.
"No."
"You didn't let me finish."
"I don't need you to." I adjusted my bag strap. "I don't know you. You don't know me. Whatever is happening between you and Keira Hanson has absolutely nothing to do with me and I'd like to keep it that way."
He was quiet. Then — "She thinks we're together."
I blinked. "What?"
"I may have implied—" he paused, choosing his words carefully, "—that I was interested in someone. And then she saw me sitting next to you."
The silence that followed was very loud.
"So she assumed," I said slowly, "that that someone is me."
"Yes."
"And you didn't correct her."
A beat. "No."
I stared at him. "Why would you do that?"
He pushed off the wall and looked away for a second — the first time since I'd met him that he looked anything other than completely in control. "Keira and I have a history. She doesn't take no easily. I needed her to believe there was a reason."
"And that reason is me." I said it flatly.
"The scholarship girl. Nobody."
Something crossed his face. "That's her word. Not mine."
"It doesn't matter whose word it is." I turned to leave. "Find someone else."
"I'll tutor you."
I stopped.
"BIO 215," he said, from behind me. "I've taken it before. I know you're on scholarship — one bad grade and it gets reviewed. I can help you."
I turned around slowly.
He was watching me steadily now, all the casual ease stripped back. Just a straight offer. No smirk, no performance.
"All you have to do," he said quietly, "is pretend. For a few weeks. Just long enough for Keira to move on."
I looked at him for a long time.
The rational part of my brain was already listing every reason this was a terrible idea. The slightly less rational part was thinking about my last BIO practical score and the email I'd gotten from the scholarship office last semester.
"If you breathe a word about the scholarship—"
"I won't."
"And this ends the moment I say it ends."
"Agreed."
I exhaled.
"I want it in writing," I said.
He blinked. Then he laughed — a real one this time, surprised out of him.
"You're serious."
"I'm always serious." I held out my hand. "Deal or no deal, Zane."
He looked at my hand. Then at me. Then he shook it — firm, warm, one second longer than necessary.
"Deal," he said.
And just like that, I became Zane Carter's fake girlfriend.
God help me.
- Writer
