THE BAD BOY BARGAIN

I never thought I’d beg Jake Ryder for anything—until my sister’s wedding invite landed in my mailbox like a glitter-dusted grenade. “Mia, bring a plus-one!” it chirped in curly pink font, as if finding a date was as easy as picking a library book. My mom’s voice echoed in my head: *“You’re seventeen, not a nun—show up with someone or I’ll set you up with Aunt Carol’s neighbor.”* The neighbor who smelled like mothballs and owned six cats. No thanks. So here I was, standing in the school parking lot after last bell, clutching *Pride and Prejudice* to my chest like a shield. The asphalt shimmered with late-spring heat, and my sneakers stuck to it with every shaky step. Ahead, Jake Ryder leaned against his beat-up black motorcycle, all leather jacket and messy dark hair, laughing with his crew—guys who smoked behind the gym and probably didn’t know what a B+ felt like. He was the opposite of me: loud where I was quiet, reckless where I was careful. And right now, he was my only shot. I’d spent lunch plotting this disaster. My best friend, Ellie, had laughed so hard she’d choked on her fries. “Jake? *The* Jake? He’ll eat you alive, Mia.” But my options were him or Mothball Man, and I’d rather face a smirking bad boy than a feline retirement home. Besides, I had a plan: ask him to fake-date me for the wedding this weekend. One night, no strings. He’d get… something. I hadn’t figured that part out yet. The closer I got, the louder my heartbeat thumped, drowning out the revving engines and the cackle of his friends. One of them—Tyler, I think—spotted me and elbowed Jake. “Yo, check it—library girl’s lost.” Jake’s head turned, slow and deliberate, and his hazel eyes locked on mine. A smirk curled his lips, the kind that said he knew he was trouble and didn’t care. “Uh, hi,” I said, my voice a squeak. Great start, Mia. I cleared my throat, shifting my book to my hip. “Jake, right? I need to talk to you.” His crew snickered, but he waved them off, pushing away from the bike. He sauntered over, hands in his pockets, all six feet of him towering over my five-four frame. Up close, he smelled like gasoline and something sharp, like mint gum. “What’s up, princess?” he drawled, voice low and teasing. “Lost your way to the honor roll?” My cheeks burned hotter than the pavement. “No, I—look, I need a favor.” The words tumbled out before I could chicken out. “I need a fake boyfriend. For my sister’s wedding. This Saturday.” Silence. Then Tyler barked a laugh, and another guy whistled. Jake just stared, one eyebrow arching like I’d asked him to join the chess club. “A fake boyfriend,” he repeated, rolling the words around like they tasted funny. “And you picked *me*?” “Yes?” It came out as a question. I hugged my book tighter, wishing I could disappear into its pages. “It’s just one night. Show up, smile, pretend you like me. My family’s… intense, and I can’t go alone.” He tilted his head, studying me. His smirk didn’t fade, but something flickered in his eyes—curiosity, maybe. “Why not ask one of your nerd squad? That kid with the glasses—Ben? He’d drool for a shot.” “Ben’s allergic to dancing,” I muttered. “And he’s not… convincing.” Not like Jake, who could charm a room without trying. I’d seen him at parties I’d crashed with Ellie—girls hung on his every word, even when he barely spoke. He was a walking spotlight. I needed that. Jake crossed his arms, leather creaking. “What’s in it for me, princess? I don’t play Prince Charming for free.” Panic clawed my chest. I hadn’t planned this far. “Um… I could bake you cookies?” His laugh was sharp, cutting through the humid air, and I winced. “Or… something else? Name it.” Dangerous move, but I was desperate. He stepped closer, close enough that I could see the faint scar above his left eyebrow. His voice dropped, a rumble that made my stomach flip. “You’re cute when you squirm, you know that?” I froze, my breath hitching. “Tell you what—I’ll think about it. But favors don’t come cheap.” “Like what?” I pressed, my voice barely above a whisper. His friends were watching now, grinning like they smelled blood. Jake twirled his keys around his finger, the metal glinting in the sun. “Meet me tonight. Midnight, by the old pier. We’ll talk terms.” He leaned in, his breath brushing my ear. “Don’t be late—or I might say no just to watch you beg again.” Before I could respond, he turned, swinging a leg over his bike. The engine roared to life, drowning out my pounding pulse. His crew piled into a rusty pickup, and they peeled out, leaving me standing there, dazed, a cloud of dust stinging my eyes. Midnight. The old pier. It was a terrible idea—sketchy, reckless, *so* not me. Ellie would kill me if she knew. But as I trudged toward the bus stop, my sister’s invite crinkling in my backpack, I realized I didn’t have a choice. Jake Ryder was a wildfire, and I was about to step into the flames.