Sawyer: I’m not sure yet. Meet me in the school parking lot at 6:45 tomorrow morning. I’ll have the contract written up by then.

Cole: Contract?

Sawyer: That a problem for you?

Cole: No.

Chapter 25

Sawyer

I’m so tired I almost run over the curb as I park my car.

On the bright side, I finished my essay and turned it in four hours ago.

The Adderall was a godsend…with one small exception.

I was so amped up, I couldn’t sleep a wink.

Well, until now of course. Now I could sleep the entire day away.

Unfortunately, sleep is gonna have to wait until after work.

Almost sixteen hours from now.

I look around the empty parking lot. Cole will be here any minute.

I reach for my Styrofoam coffee cup and down a few swigs while eyeing the bottle of Adderall in my bag.

I was planning on using the twenty I have for emergencies, but if I take one now, I’ll be awake and focused for school.

I pop one in my mouth and take another sip of my coffee…just as Cole’s LaFerrari pulls up beside me.

I stuff the unmarked pill bottle in my bag and take out my folder with the contracts in it.

Then I step out of my van and walk over to him.

As always, his navy blazer is off and the sleeves of his white button-down are pushed up his muscular forearms, showcasing his big hands and thick veins.

“Hey—”

Keeping a straight face, I hand him the file. We can talk after he’s read it and agreed to the terms.

The best way to go about doing this is to treat it like a business deal.

And in any good business deal, both parties benefit.

Cole sticking up for me yesterday was unexpected and awesome, but he’s still a self-serving asshole and if I told him I was doing this out of the goodness of my heart, he’d step all over me.

However, if there are rules and regulations in place…it will help put some boundaries between us.

And protect my heart.

“You want me to donate ten-thousand dollars to your church after we break up?”

Straightening my spine, I glare at him. “Is that a problem?”

I’d never accept his money for myself, but I have no problem with him giving it to people in need.

Plus, I know the idea of him donating to a church really grinds his gears…just like the idea of me dating him for months on end grinds mine.

Jaw tight, he leans against his car. “Nope. Cash or check?”

“Check will be fine.” Holding up my paper, I run my fingernail along the black ink. “Did you read through all the rules?”

“Not yet.” He scans his own paper and frowns. “I can’t kiss you?” He looks at me. “How the fuck do you expect people to believe we’re dating if we don’t kiss?”

I suppose he has a point. “Fine.” I take a black pen out of my bag and write an amendment on his contract and mine. “But you’re limited to three kisses a week.” I glance up at him. “No tongue.”

Shrugging, he continues reading. “Your loss. My tongue can do great things—wait a minute. You want me to attend a church session?”

“That’s not what it says.” Unlike him, I would never encroach on someone’s beliefs. “Youth group isn’t a church service. Besides, I’m only asking you to attend once.”

“Why? So the Jesus freak running it can try to convert me? No thanks.”

“The person running it won’t try to convert you. I promise.”

He eyes me skeptically. “What makes you so sure about that?”

“Because I’m the person who runs the youth group. Well, me and another person. We alternate every other week.”

“Why do you want me to go to this thing?”

“I’m hoping it will help you have a better appreciation and understanding for those who believe. I know what you think, but most people associated with the church aren’t standing on people’s doorsteps condemning them to the pits of Hell. In fact, a few of us are really cool and open-minded. If you give it a chance, you might like it. We socialize and talk about our problems—”

He holds up a hand. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Save your Bible-thumping spiel for someone who actually gives a flying fuck about your Lord and Savior.” He stabs the paper with his finger. “I’ll go to this thing, but only if you agree to attend the rest of my football games this season.”

“How in the world is that fair? I’m only asking you to attend one—”

“The season is almost over. We only have two more games before the championship game.”

Pick your battles—I remind myself. “Fine.”

“Great. I look forward to seeing you in the stands at tonight’s game.”

Crap. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I have to work.”

He assesses me for what feels like forever before he speaks. “Fine. But make sure you’re there for the next one.” His eyes drop back to the paper. “The above party agrees not to hook up with any other girls during the duration of the relationship.” He raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Good Lord. I figured that rule would be a given, but apparently not.

“Yes. It’s going to make me look stupid if you’re” —I make air-quotes— “‘cheating’ on me left and right. If you can’t agree to keep your dick in your pants—”

He cuts me off with a husky laugh. “You should see your face right now.” A small smirk lines his mouth. “I won’t hook up with any other girls.”

A few cars pull into the parking lot.

“Great. Is there anything else you want to add to the contract before we sign it?”

He steps closer. “Can’t think of anything off the top of my head, but if I do, I’ll let you know and we can add it later.”

That doesn’t sit well with me. If I agree to start changing things at the drop of a hat, we’ll no longer have a solid framework.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“We need structure.”

His gaze darkens. “Fine.” He takes the pen from me and signs it. “Are we done?”

I snatch my pen back from him and scrawl my signature next to his as a few more cars whizz into the parking lot.

“Do you want an extra copy for your records?”

“No. What I want is for you to lock both contracts in your van before anyone sees them.”

Someone’s awfully grumpy.

Begrudgingly, I do what he says.

I’m closing my van door when I feel him creep up behind me.

“Whoa there, buster,” I say as I spin around. “What do you think you’re doing?”

His hand curls around my hip and he tugs me against him. “Saying good morning to my girlfriend.”

“Oh.” I swallow. “Right.”

“You’re gonna have to stop acting like a kitten in water every time I touch you.” His mouth dips to the crook of my neck and he inhales me. “You smell good.”

“It’s my vanilla and coconut shower gel.”