02. The Contract

"I didn't even know people had fake relationships," Georgie said from the couch.

She had her feet kicked up on the coffee table and a bowl of cereal resting on her chest. Her hair was in what she told me were goddess braids, a bright gold against her brown skin. She tossed her hair over the edge of the couch and leaned back, slurping her cereal from a spoon.

I was probably supposed to keep the whole fake-relationship thing a secret, but how could I hide something like this from Georgie? She'd be too suspicious anyway.

Not everyone knew I disliked Corey Bishop, but Georgie knew. In fact, she hated him too. She never explicitly gave her reasons, but I had a feeling it was only because I hated him. She was a good friend like that.

"Me neither," I replied, stepping into the living room. "You're going to choke like that."

She ignored me, taking another big bite of cereal before adding, "Why do you guys have to meet up so early?"

It was only seven in the morning, but that was considered early for her. My calculus classes ran at eight every morning, so I was used to it.

"Their practice session starts in an hour," I explained. "We need to meet up before anyone sees us. You know, lay out the ground rules."

"What, like no sex?"

"Georgie!"

"What's the point of a boyfriend then?"

"It's a fake boyfriend," I reminded her. "And stop being so shallow!"

"I'm just saying! Fake, schmake. It should still come with the benefits," she said. "And, I mean, have you seen that man?"

She had a point. For all of his terrible personality, he made up for it in unbearable attractiveness. It was probably a rule; to play rugby you must look like a model in your spare time.

He was tall and muscular, like Dylan was, but God, his face. His hair. His broad-shoulderness. Was I drooling?

Dylan had never voiced it in our relationship, but I had a feeling he thought he was out of my league.

It was the little things. Him asking me to wear my hair down. Him asking me to not talk about exams around his friends.

Maybe that was why he dumped me—he thought he was too out of my league.

He was probably right. Especially in high school, when I was more preoccupied with acing physics than my appearance.

I couldn't wait for him to see me and Corey together.

"I've seen him," I said, rolling my eyes. "And I've heard him. Too much of him."

"Well, get ready to hear some more," she said, her mouth full of cereal. "You're going to be late. Is that what you're wearing?"

I looked down at my sweatpants and tank top. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing. It's just not exactly what you used to wear to Dylan's practices."

"I only ever dressed nice for his practice because he didn't like me wearing trackies," I said, gathering my phone and keys. "Besides, I was dumped and I'm repeating Physics 1A. 1A. I'm grieving. Let me grieve."

"Okay," Georgie said. "Just remember, Dylan might see you two together for the first time today."

I groaned. She gave me a pointed look.

With my free hand, I took my ponytail out and mussed my hair up a bit. There. That should be good enough. Hopefully, if we did bump into him, he'd be busy gaping at Corey rather than me.

"Is that better?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Better than nothing."

That was good enough for me.

"I'll meet you at lunch," I called out, unlocking the front door.

"Bye! Give Corey a kiss for me!"

I rolled my eyes and shut the door behind me.

The footy field that training sessions were held at wasn't the same that games were held at. The actual name for the smaller grass field close to my dorm was the Abercrombie Green, named for the Abercrombie dorms that stood beside it—mydorms.

It was a two-minute walk for me. Corey was already there, sitting at the edge of the grass, legs outstretched and duffel bag beside him.

I slowed my steps, giving myself time to really see him.

Corey had always been an afterthought for me. Whenever I hung out with Dylan and his friends, Corey would fade into the background. He'd suddenly be busy with other plans or find someone else he absolutely needed to talk to, right then and there.

The only time I really got a chance to see him was at games or practice sessions, but I was too busy staring at Dylan those times.

Now, I could look at him. Properly look at him.

His dark hair was messy under his pulled-up hood. It looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. But what really interested me was that he just sat there.

He wasn't on his phone. He wasn't distracting himself with something. He just sat there, legs stretched out and eyes on the goal posts.

His face seemed focused. He was thinking about something. Strategizing. Chin lifted, brows furrowed—this was his game face.

I moved closer.

He turned at the sound of my footsteps, eyes meeting mine.

My body's immediate reaction was to stop. I wanted to turn around and run away. Now that I'd gotten some sleep and was thinking more clearly, I could see what a stupid idea this was.

Corey and I had barely ever had a proper conversation before, and now here I was, asking him to pretend to date me?

My instinct nearly won, but I remembered Dylan. I thought of how his face would look when he saw the two of us together, and I kept walking.

"Good morning," I said, moving to sit beside him.

"Sage," he said in way of greeting.

He wore a loose black hoodie that all the Eastview elite athletes got, regardless of their sport. On the front, the words 'Eastview Elite Athlete' were written. This wasn't the kind of jumper that was bought, it was the kind that was earned.

"Alright," I began, pulling out my phone and opening the notes app. "We've got an hour before your team starts showing up. Where should we start?"

"Sagely, are you taking meeting minutes?"

"It's effective," I replied. I typed a bolded heading: The Contract and added our names underneath, along with the date. "Do you want to start, or should I?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, realising I wasn't going to budge.

"I think we need to lay out some ground rules," Corey said. "Number one, no sex."

I nearly laughed, but his expression was dead serious. That was the last thing I thought we'd agree on, and it definitely wasn't what I expected to be Corey's first rule.

Well, it saved me from bringing it up myself. Somehow, he managed to talk about awkward things without making it awkward. Poor Georgie would be devastated though.

I nodded, adding it as our first bullet point. "Obviously."

"You have to come to all my games," he added. "Write that down."

"Of course," I said, typing as I spoke. "And I'll come to your training too."

His brows raised before he nodded slowly. "Okay. Yeah. Are you sure?"

I shrugged. I was used to going Dylan's training sessions. He wanted me there, watching him. I usually brought my laptop and caught up on assignments, but sometimes he'd get annoyed. He liked my attention and, at the time, I liked giving it to him.

"Yeah, well, I went to all of Dylan's training sessions." I said, frowning. "What, you don't want me there?"

"No, I do. The more places Dylan can see us, the better. Which reminds me, I'll pick you up from class. Send me your schedule."

Okay, now my brows shot up. "What, seriously?"

"Yeah," he said, holding out his phone. "Put your number in there."

Cautiously, I took the phone from him and sent myself a text. "You're really going to meet me outside of my classes?"

"As long as I don't have class or anything," he replied. "Do you live on campus?"

"Yeah, at Abercrombie," I said, nodding towards the dorms behind him.

He nodded slowly, as if calculating in his head. "Okay. I'll pick you up on game nights and walk you home after practice."

I blinked at him, waiting for him to, I don't know, start laughing? Tell me he was joking? That this was all a big prank?

Instead, he only added, "And this needs to go on for three months."

I was half-way through a nod when his words properly registered. "Three months?"

"The whole semester," he said, shrugging. "What, you can't make a three-month commitment on your little revenge plan?"

"No," I said quickly. I could make a yearlong commitment if it meant taking Dylan down. "I definitely can, but... are you sure you want to?"

Okay, sure, Corey had been a bit of a jerk in high school, but three-months of a fake relationship? That was a lot to ask for, even from someone who didn't like me—especially from someone who didn't like me.

"If we're going to do this, we have to do it right," he said. "I'm not going to half-arse this and have people find out. Do you know how embarrassing that would be?"

"Alright. Fine. Three months from now," I said.

I typed the deadline down in bold, capital letters: THREE MONTHS.

"And that brings me to my next point," Corey said.

He took my hand in his and intertwined our fingers. I almost dropped my phone into my lap in surprise. 

He didn't even crack a smile. It was funny how we could sit here, holding hands, skin to skin, and have no reaction.

"What are your limits on PDA?" he asked.

I hadn't really thought about it. Dylan had always been big on PDA, so...

"Okay, let me put it this way," Corey said after a long pause. He lifted our hands. "Hand holding?"

"Yeah, that's fine," I said.

"Hugging?"

I thought about it for a second. I had hugged every member on Dylan's team—both in high school and university. Everyone except for Corey.

At parties, people tended to greet me with a hug. Not Corey. Corey liked to vanish into another room, suddenly finding his cup empty and searching for a new drink.

It wasn't like he was averse to physical contact. He was holding my hand out of his own free will after all, and I'd seen him hug plenty of other people before. He'd even hugged Georgie once, until his eyes drifted over her shoulder and spotted me. Then he was turning around again, muttering some lame excuse.

It looked like he'd changed his mind about hugging me.

I nodded, adding hugs to our 'allowed' list. "Hugs are fine."

"What about—" he lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it, keeping his eyes on mine the whole time—"kissing? Not on the lips."

I couldn't help but look away. I didn't think Dylan had ever kissed my hand in our entire relationship.

"Yes," I said, not trusting my voice to say anything more.

"And what about kissing on the lips?"

I paused. Kissing Corey Bishop on the lips? My heart did a little flutter at the thought. Hey, he was hot, okay? There was no denying it. But kissing?

"Dylan probably won't believe us otherwise," I began slowly. I sighed. There was really no way around it. "Okay. Yes to kissing, but only what's necessary, and only when it's necessary."

I didn't need to be seen full on making out with Corey Bishop at his games. A simple kiss would probably be fine. And we didn't have to be seen kissing constantly. Only when necessary.

"Sounds good to me. So, that's a yes to PDA in front of Dylan." He hummed, tapping his chin for a moment. "Actually, we should probably make that all of Eastview Uni. Word gets around."

"Great. Is that everything?"

He glanced at my phone, skimming through the detailed meeting minutes I'd taken.

"I have one more rule," he said after a moment, meeting my eyes. "You have to come with me to the post-game parties."

"What? Corey. Come on." I frowned at him. He should have known that I never liked to go to those parties.

Dylan might have been able to convince me to go to all training sessions and games, but parties were strictly off-limits. And the ones that I had gone to, after endless begging from Dylan, were usually short-lived. One drink, then I was calling an Uber to take me home and watch Netflix.

"It's my one thing," he said. "You don't have to stay long. An hour, and that's it. Deal?"

I narrowed my eyes, trying to detect—something in his expression.

It wasn't asking for much. What was a party, every once in a while? I could sit on a couch, recite the laws of thermodynamics for an hour, then call it a day.

Except, something about it seemed suspicious.

When he agreed to my little proposal, I expected him to leverage his bargaining power as much as possible. I owed him, after all. The one who was benefiting most from this little deal was me.

I thought he'd treat me like his personal slave. Make me clean his dorm room. Cook him dinner. Carry his bag around campus. Wash his jerseys. That sort of thing.

He was giving up three months of his life to pretend to date me, for what? So that Dylan would be humbled a little and so that I would go to parties with him?

"That's all you want?" I asked, unable to keep the suspicion from creeping into my voice. He nodded. "Three months of our arrangement for, what? Me coming to your little parties?"

He shrugged. "It's all I'm asking for. I thought you'd be grateful. Are you saying you want me to ask for more?"

"No," I replied, eyeing him carefully. "I just don't get it. You really don't want anything else?"

The corners of his lips turned up. "Call it a favour."

I kept my eyes on him, trying to figure him out. There had to be more to this. There was no way Corey Bishop was doing this out of the goodness of his heart.

But whatever his motive was, I couldn't figure it out.

Maybe he really was just doing me a favour. Maybe he felt guilt for all those days he gave me the cold shoulder. Maybe he was taking pity on my dumped arse.

I sighed, nodding.

"Okay, fine."

He cracked a smile at me and released my hand. Turning to his bag, he began rifling through it until he pulled out a water bottle and football.

I knew what that meant. Conversation over. Time for training.

Corey was such a typical footy captain. The second I showed up, he lead the conversation, said everything he wanted to say, then turned his thoughts right back to football.

Well, Corey had said his piece, but I hadn't said mine.

"I'll go to your parties," I said quickly before he could stand and ditch me for his football, "but you have to do some kind of—" I searched for the right words— "romantic gestures."

"Romantic gestures?"

"You know. Love letters, or... a boom box outside my window. Or serenading me."

"Okay, I am not serenading you," he said, almost laughing at the thought.

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, whatever. Just—do something. Deal?"

"Why do I have to do something like that?" His lip curled at the question, like the idea of going out of his way to show affection to me was torture. "Kissing and holding hands aren't good enough for you?"

I pressed my lips together. Did I really have to spell it out for him?

"Look, Corey, you can hold my hand all you want, and Dylan might believe that we're together, but he won't believe that you actually like me," I explained. "He'll think you're using me or playing me. He won't think you're serious about me, and that's just not good enough."

He frowned. I could see me words floating around his mind, connecting dots together. "And romantic gestures will convince him that I'm, what? In love with you?"

"It'll be a start," I said. "I mean, think about it. How many guys do you know ever wrote love letters to their girlfriend?"

He thought for a moment. "One."

I blinked. I hadn't actually expected him to know someone. "Really?" I asked. "Who?"

"My dad," he said, shrugging. "He left love letters for my mum every morning before leaving for his training sessions. You know, before he retired."

"Oh," I said stupidly.

He let out a heavy breath, like it took all the effort in the world to agree with me. "I get your point. I'll figure out some romantic gestures, okay?"

I smiled, adding that to my notes in bolded letters: Romantic gestures.

"Perfect," I said. "And one last thing. How are we going to break the news to the team? Should I stick around for today's practice?"

He paused, the football tucked under his arm, and stared at me up and down. His lips twisted and he glanced away.

"We'll do it at our first game of the semester," he said. "Seems fitting."

I didn't like the way he looked at me. I tugged at my hair self-consciously. Maybe Georgie was right. Maybe I should've taken the extra few minutes this morning to dress myself up.

"What's wrong with right now?"

"I don't want to do it right now."

"Why not?" I asked. "No time like the present, right?"

"I told you, I'm not half-arsing this." He reached a hand into his duffel bag again and threw something at my face.

I barely caught it in time. I pulled the light fabric off my face and looked down to find his jersey. The back was covered by a large '9' beneath a smaller 'Bishop'.

"You're going to wear that to the game this Friday."

"But Friday seems so far away."

It was only five sleeps away, but still. I had been so eager when the idea popped into my head. I didn't know if I could wait that long to see Dylan's reaction.

"You can wait," he said. He glanced back at me and lifted a brow. "Don't tell me, you want me to pull a Dylan?"

"Pull a Dylan?"

"You know. Bring you to the locker rooms after a practice match and tell the team you're my new girl."

I scoffed. The memory hit me hard.

The day he'd introduced me to the team had been so sudden. One second, he was asking me to watch him train. The next, I was in a locker room surrounded by sweaty strangers.

It's funny. I could remember exactly how I felt that day. My hair was frizzy, and lips chapped from standing in the cold wind for almost two hours. 

That had been their first impression of me. It was no wonder Corey didn't like me from the start.

"It was casual," I said, unable to stop myself from defending him—defending myself for dating him for so long. "We just started dating. I didn't want him to make some grand announcement about me."

"Well, I'm not Dylan."

"Yeah, I can see that," I said, rolling my eyes. "What exactly is the plan? You're going to hijack the mic?"

"I'm going to make sure Dylan's eyes are on us," he said simply. He stood, pulling his hoodie over his head. I glimpsed his chiselled chest from beneath his jersey and blushed, looking away. "Are we done here?"

"I guess so," I said, standing to meet his eye. Or more like his shoulder. "Any other rules I need to abide by Boss?"

"Ha, funny," he said, without even a hint of a smile. "Yes, actually." He gave me a final cursory glance. "Wear shorts."

I looked down at my sweatpants. Jerk.

"Why can't I wear what I'm wearing now?" He gave me a deadpan look and I rolled my eyes. "You're an arsehole, Corey."

"I'm your boyfriend."

"For three months."

"Best three months of your life," he said,standing. He winked at me. Actually winked. "See you Friday."

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hello!!!! Thank you all so much for the love on the last chapter! I was so nervous to post but your comments have been so kind! Thank you! <3

Leave your predictions and guesses below! I always think I'm being sneaky but y'all are too good at guessing my thoughts lmao I do love a good cliché though. See you soon! x