“Sorry, I told someone I’d give them my study notes before school. I’ll stop and grab something on the way.”

I haven’t spoken to Cole since our conversation—or rather, non-conversation—at the tattoo shop.

A small part of me was hoping he’d text, but deep down, I knew better.

Cole’s not the kind to apologize.

Evidently, he’s also not the kind to wait in a school parking lot for his fake girlfriend, either.

I hate that things are weird between us.

Almost as much as I hate Oakley for interrupting us.

I would have told Cole the truth.

Maybe it was divine intervention that I didn’t though, considering his hot and cold act.

I don’t want to put myself out there to get hurt again.

Given his less-than-stellar track record, there’s a very real possibility, if I admit I have feelings for Cole, he’ll use them to his advantage in order to win the bet.

Then dump me on my ass the second it’s over.

I’m not sure I can take that kind of hurt.

“Why are boys so stupid?” I grumble as I make my way to my locker.

Oakley looks around. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

“Yes…no. I don’t know,” I snap.

His blue eyes widen. “Someone’s riding the crimson wave.”

“Huh?”

“Shark week.”

It’s like he’s speaking another language. “Dammit. Speak English, Oakley.”

“You have your period!” he shouts.

Everyone within earshot stops to look at us.

“You couldn’t have used aunt flow or time of the month like a normal person?” I hiss when we reach my locker.

“They were next on my list.” He leans against the locker next to mine. “But to answer your question, we’re not stupid. Our brains are just filled with less junk than yours.”

I spin the combination on my locker. “If your brains were filled with less junk, you should be able to process things faster…or at all for that matter.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t understand. Guys operate on a different hierarchy of needs. Or as I like to call them…the three Ps.”

I pause. “Three Ps?”

He starts ticking things off with his fingers. “Getting paid, getting provisions—that’s food and other necessit—”

“I know what provisions are, Oak.”

He gives me a lewd smile. “And the most important one of all—getting pussy.” His face scrunches. “Unless you’re gay, then it’s the other P word.”

“Penis?”

“Pecker. But that works too.”

I think about his three Ps for a moment. “So what you’re saying is, guys are stupid because all they care about are the three Ps.”

“No, what I’m saying is…all guys think about are the three Ps. We care about plenty of things, we just need a helpful reminder of what it is we should be caring about.” He points to a couple arguing down the hall. “Take those two, for example. Caitlyn is upset with Danny because he got drunk and hooked up with her friend at Christian’s party this past weekend.”

Poor Caitlyn. “Can’t say I blame her for being upset, that was a shitty thing to do.”

Oakley wags a finger. “Yes, it would be…if Caitlyn had made it a point to tell him not to get drunk and hook up with her friends. But she didn’t. Therefore, it’s not Danny’s fault. He had no idea it was a deal breaker for her.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. “Are you serious—”

“Yes.” He karate chops his hand. “We’re simple creatures, boo. If you want us to do something, you need to tell us. If you don’t want us to do something…you need to tell us that, too. We’re not mind readers.”

Irritated, I open my locker. “I don’t even know how to respond to your brand of logic.”

“Knock it all you want, my friend. But I’m right.”

My mouth drops as I take in the large, pink and tan Louis Vuitton purse.

For a moment, I’m convinced I must have unlocked the wrong locker.

“What the fuck?”

Oakley whistles. “Damn. Someone dropped a pretty penny on that. Crystal has a few and those puppies ain’t cheap.”

“Cole,” I whisper, remembering the note. “Why would he do this?”

“Because his bitch ex-girlfriend threw yours in a toilet,” Cole says from behind me. “Figured you might need a new one.”

I did. My old purse from the local Walmart was so gross—thanks to swimming in toilet water—I had to throw it in the dumpster.

This is the nicest, most expensive thing anyone’s ever gotten me.

Which is exactly why I can’t accept it.

I turn to face him. “It’s beautiful.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a small grin. “It’s a special editio—”

“Take it back.” Using Oakley’s brand of guy logic, I add, “I don’t want it.”

I don’t want him thinking he can buy me off.

I also don’t want other people thinking he can buy me off.

It was a sweet, thoughtful gesture—one I’m incredibly thankful for—but I’m not that girl.

I’m never going to be that girl.

No matter how many purses Cole buys me.

I’m never going to be Casey, Morgan, or any of the hundreds of other girls walking around school with a Louis bag.

I’m just Sawyer.

Poor, nerdy, Jesus-loving, fat girl Sawyer.

It’s all I’ll ever be.

Chapter 36

Cole

I’m pretty sure this is the first time a girl has ever turned down a designer bag.

“You don’t want it,” I repeat.

Goddamnit. Bianca told me she’d like it.

Not bothering to clarify or close her locker, Sawyer brushes past me. “I have to get to class.”

Dumbfounded, I look at Oakley. “She doesn’t want it.”

Oakley shrugs. “What can I tell you, man. Girls are stupid.”

Yeah, but not this girl. Something’s going on.

The hallway is almost clear by the time I catch up to her. “We need to talk.”

“By talk, do you mean bite my head off like you did on Saturday?”

“Is that why you don’t want the bag?”

I guess I could have been nicer about it, but she was going to reject my ass—which would make her a hypocrite because we both know she secretly wants me.

Sawyer is many things, but a liar isn’t one of them.

And if she stopped being stubborn and trying to resist me…we’d have a lot more fun for the duration of the bet.

She gives her head a shake. “I don’t have time for this, Cole. I’m late for class.”

“It’s homeroom. Nothing important happens there.”

She looks at me like I’m stupid. “Um, attendance does.”

She can sort that shit out later. My bone to pick with her takes precedence.

Refusing no for an answer, I grab her elbow and lead her into an empty classroom.