Contrary to popular belief, the Wolves' after parties were not out-of-control ragers that shut down the whole block.

Don't get me wrong. These boys weren't saints. The parties probably would be tear-the-house-down ragers if they were allowed, but these boys weren't your typical rugby players. They were all here for a reason.

They were trying to get into the big leagues.

And if news got out about them partying too hard, their coaches would be on them, and their dreams would suffer for it.

So, when Corey met me at his car, I wasn't nervous about the party.

I was nervous, however, about spending it with him.

Obviously, I'd been to a few parties with Dylan in the past, and Corey was always at them. Good team spirit, or whatever. But he was the type who brooded in the corner, barely speaking to anyone, only getting up for another drink.

And now I'd have to be in that corner with him, for who knows how long?

Great.

"Try to look a bit more excited, babe," he said, unlocking the car as he approached.

I rolled my eyes, sliding into the seat next to him. "Try not to forget about me next time, babe."

He sighed heavily, turning to me with a tired look. "I didn't mean to."

His eyes met mine and the memory of his lips against my mouth ripped through my mind. I swallowed hard, trying to think of anything else.

His hair was still wet from his shower, and I could smell the musky fragrance of his soap. It really wasn't helping.

"Well, congrats on the win," I said, forcing my eyes onto the road ahead.

He shook his head, starting the engine. The car turned into the empty street. "It wasn't good enough. Dylan got a try there. For a minute, I was..."

"Worried?"

"Worried about Dylan?" He scoffed. "No. More like annoyed. Frustrated. You should've heard him bragging in the locker room. Doesn't help that the crowd and the coaches inflated his ego a bit with that too."

I frowned, sitting in silence for a moment. The game was over, but his classical music still echoed from his speakers. He didn't seem to even notice, too absorbed in his thoughts to care about something as insignificant as his Spotify playlist.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he stared out on the empty road. I could imagine the thoughts drifting through his mind. He probably regretted agreeing to our deal. It wasn't working. It had all just been a massive waste of time.

"Sorry," I said finally, slouching into my seat. "You can just drop me at home, if you want."

"What?" he said, his eyes shooting in my direction. The car slowed to a stop, despite the light being green, and he turned completely to face me. "What are you talking about, Sage?"

"Corey, the light's green."

"What are you talking about?" he repeated, his voice lower. His captain voice. I averted my eyes.

"You said it yourself. It didn't work," I said. "That Dylan didn't care about us. About me. This whole plan was a huge mistake."

"Oh, it worked," he replied.

I blinked.

"He was jealous," he continued.

"Were we watching the same game?"

"I was playing the game," he said. "And I could see the change in his game when he looked at you. He still likes you, Sage."

My heart stuttered. I spun to him with wide eyes.

"Excuse me?"

His lips twitched. Slowly, the car began moving again.

"You've got to be blind," he said.

"I just don't see how you could get to that conclusion," I said, shaking my head. "He's the one who dumped me."

"Both things can be true."

I thought about Dylan. Our year-long relationship together, brought down in one conversation. My frown deepened. "I don't think he would've cheated on me if he still liked me."

"That's the beauty of testosterone, Sagely," Corey said. "Your little contract's working."

I fell silent.

That hadn't been the plan. He wasn't supposed to start liking me again. He was supposed to be jealous, yes, but the type of jealous where his pride was crushed, and he lay in bed for a few days thinking about his past actions. That type of jealous. Not—whatever this was.

I didn't know how to feel.

I especially hated the little jump my heart did at Corey's words. A spark that felt scarily like hope. I stamped it down quickly.

Corey didn't say anything either, so I settled further into my seat, watching the road as we drove in silence. Most team parties were held at either Wes' house or another team member, Greg's house. Judging by the route Corey was taking, I guessed it was Wes'.

My theory proved right when we pulled up to his driveway. The street was filled with cars parking on both sides, but Corey being the all-important team captain that he was, he got VIP parking, right in the driveway, two steps from the door.

I almost laughed at the fact that everyone had kept it clear for him.

"Before we go in," Corey began, turning to me. I paused, halfway through unbuckling my seatbelt. "We need to set some ground rules."

"We do, actually," I agreed, facing him. "One hour and we're leaving. Right?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Sage. I remember the contract."

"Great," I said. I smoothed my hair and reached for the door handle. "Let's go."

"Stop," he practically demanded.

My body instantly stopped. No wonder he was team captain, his voice was so compelling.

"What?" I asked.

"I have some ground rules too," he said.

"Well, you should've put them in the contract." I couldn't help it. I had to be difficult, even if he was doing me this favour as he called it.

Of course, I was grateful he'd agreed to my idea and spared me the humiliation, but I didn't forget how he'd treated me the past year. He may have spared me the humiliation now, but he was my main cause of embarrassment for months before that.

Not that he'd care. He probably hadn't even noticed. Someone like Corey would never understand the embarrassment of being excluded; being the only one in the room that felt like they didn't belong. No, he didn't understand. Especially when he was the reason for it all in the first place.

His eyes narrowed. "Sage."

I sighed. "Alright. What are they?"

His eyes lingered on me suspiciously. "What, you're not going to write this down?"

"Actually, that's a great idea."

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," I said, pulling out my phone. "Okay. Continue."

When he didn't speak, I looked up to find him frowning at me. I lifted a brow.

"Did you change your mind?" I asked.

"No," he said. He ran a hand over his face, his expression turning into one of resignation. "First, you stick with me, got it?"

"What are you, my keeper?"

"No, I'm your boyfriend, and I want you to start acting like my girlfriend."

"Oh, like kissing you in front of everyone wasn't enough?"

His eyes flashed at me. "Sorry, was I the one who came up with this whole idea? Because I'm willing to call this thing off if you want to."

The fire in my glare vanished. He was right. I needed to pull back the punches a little. I needed to remember why we were here in the first place.

Dylan was probably through those doors, already guzzling his third drink of the night. The same Dylan who dumped me without remorse. The same Dylan who made me fail my physics final. The same Dylan who acted like a year together meant nothing to him.

I sunk a little deeper into my seat. "Sorry. Continue."

"Second," Corey said, "I don't want you drinking."

I wasn't much of a drinker anyway, but I couldn't help my argumentative personality. It was like, just because he told me not to, suddenly I wanted to. Like I transformed into a defiant teenager at any mention of rules.

"Why not?" I asked, unable to stop myself. A part of me just wanted to annoy him. My own petty version of revenge. "I'm forced to be here, might as well take advantage of the alcohol, right?"

"There's enough of a blurred line between us already, Sage," he said carefully.

He didn't seem annoyed at all, which only pissed me off further. And yet, the way his words made my pulse quicken... As much as I wanted to argue, I didn't have the words for it. My mouth had turned dry.

"Besides," he continued, "I don't need you going around spilling this secret to everyone. Do you know how embarrassing that would be?"

His eyes seemed to stab right through me, and my annoyance returned. I knew he wasn't calling me embarrassing, but it didn't stop me from feeling like that's what he insinuated.

"Oh, please. One drink isn't going to hurt," I said.

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't know. You seem like a lightweight."

I scoffed. "Excuse me?"

"Are you telling me you're not?" he asked, lifting a brow.

I faltered. "I mean... I am, but still."

"No drinks and that's final. Write it down," he said. He glanced at his watch. "We'll leave at ten."

Just over fifty minutes. Great. At least he was sticking to our one-hour rule.

Before I knew it, he was out of the car and pulling the door open for me. I didn't bother thanking him. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the house. At all the people. His eyes darted all over the scenery, taking it all in. Making a game plan. He even had his stupid captain face on.

"Let's go, boyfriend," I said, grabbing his arm and forcing him to move.

In one swift movement, he wrapped his arm over my shoulders and led us into the house. He really was a natural, which made me wonder—I'd never seen him with a girlfriend before. How was he so good at this?

The first thing that hit me was the noise. It had been well over a month since my last team party, but the pounding bass and dim lights made it feel like yesterday.

I knew exactly where Dylan would be.

My eyes trailed through the kitchen as we passed and—there he was. Standing at the bench, one hand holding a slice of pizza and another gripping a sweaty beer. He was always hungry after his games.

Three girls surrounded him, and I couldn't help the way anger flickered inside of me. I wondered if one of them was that girl—the one he'd cheated on me with.

At the last second, his eyes jumped up to mine. His smile slipped from his lips. I didn't even have time to frown before Corey was leading me to the living room and—yep, there it was. His little corner.

He fell back into the armchair that occupied his corner. I stood awkwardly beside him for a moment, waiting for an instruction. When none came, I nudged his knee with my own.

"Corey!" I shouted over the music.

He looked at me. I narrowed my eyes.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Sit. I don't know."

"Where am I meant to sit, huh?"

He gestured vaguely to his lap.

My jaw practically dropped. "Excuse me?"

"Your choice, sweetheart. Stand, sit. I don't care. We still have—" he checked his watch— "forty-six minutes to kill."

He leaned back, stretching his arms up. He rested his hands behind his neck, gazing carelessly across the room.

Stupid arsehole.

I wasn't sure what I expected. This was the way Corey had always been. How many parties had I been to where Corey ignored me the entire time? How many events had he avoided eye contact? Stood next to me and said nothing? Greeted everyone around me, except me? Exited conversations the second I joined?

Well, fine.

If he wanted me to sit, I'd sit. He was the team captain after all, wasn't he? I was only following orders.

I took one step forward, knocking his knees with my own before falling back into his lap. His body jolted beneath mine, his hands lifting away from my body. I kicked my legs sideways so that I was practically draped across his thighs, my hands reaching up to snake around his neck and secure my position.

"Hey," I said, smiling up at him.

His eyes met mine, wide and brown.

"Well?" I asked. "Are you gonna sit there and stare at me, or are you going to act like my boyfriend?"

His expression morphed into a scowl. His hands dropped, securely circling my body at the waist—an almost practiced movement. "Keep your voice down."

"No one can hear me over this music," I said. "So, now what? We sit here for forty minutes?"

He glanced at his watch. "Forty-four actually."

"Well, I'm glad you showered after the match."

He laughed. I stared at him, stunned. I wasn't sure I'd ever get used to Corey laughing. Or smiling. This was all very strange and new to me.

"What did you and Dylan used to do at these parties?" he asked suddenly.

I frowned. "I don't know. Dance. Make out."

"Seriously?"

"Hey, we were usually drunk. It's kind of a blur. I mean, what else would we do anyway?"

"Talk?"

"Talk? At a party? What would we even talk about?"

"I don't know. You tell me. I never thought you guys had much in common."

I furrowed my brow. I didn't realise he thought about us at all. Clearing my throat, I shrugged.

"We talked about all kinds of things," I said.

"Uh huh. Like?"

"Like high school."

"High school? I guess you do have that in common."

"Yeah. And footy."

He scoffed. "Right, because you just love footy."

The anger that had been flickering in my chest flared to life. Who was he to act like he knew me? Like he knew my relationship with Dylan?

"You're one to judge," I spat. "A week ago, you never even had a proper conversation with me."

At that, he looked away. "Not true. I've spoken with you before."

"Right," I said unconvincingly. "All those times you said hello."

I could probably count them on one hand. He pressed his lips into a thin line, still avoiding eye contact.

Fine. Two could play that game. I turned away, staring out at the room around us. I suddenly felt a lot more uncomfortable sitting on his lap. It seemed like he was too because his hands fell from my waist.

"I'll get us some drinks," he said.

I could take a hint. I slid off his lap and watched as he beelined for the kitchen, his fists clenched by his side, not bothering to look back at me.

I sat back in the armchair, this time alone.

I had almost forgotten how rude he could be. Well, this was a good reminder then. I couldn't let our contract make me forget how he'd treated me before, even if he wanted to deny it.

"Sage."

I looked up, expecting Corey to reappear with a drink in hand—half-hoping he'd reappear with his tail between his legs, ready to apologise for his behaviour.

Except, it wasn't Corey.

"Dylan," I said, forcing a smile onto my face. "Hey."

He stood over me almost shy. His lips were pulled into a small, polite smile. His hair was a little longer than it used to be, but that was the only thing that had changed.

I hated the way my heart thrummed at the sight of him—remembering our year together. Remembering the feeling of his hands on my skin. His lips on mine.

I didn't want to remember, but I also didn't want to look away. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

I might have remembered the way he held me, but I also remembered that awful night when he ripped my heart out. I remembered that awful week that followed. I remembered showing up to my physics exam thirty minutes late, eyes puffy and red. I remembered the sleepless nights scrolling through our messages, through his Instagram, through our photos together.

The memory shot a mixture of anger and sadness through my chest. I swallowed hard, my throat clicking drily.

"I didn't expect you at the game today," he said.

"I always go."

"Yeah, but that was when... You know. When we were—"

"I just happen to be a huge fan of footy," I said, the joke coming out dry and emotionless.

Dylan barked out a short laugh. "Right, of course you are. How could I forget?"

I nodded. We fell into silence. I tore my eyes away, feeling the pressure of his gaze on my face.

Eventually, he added, "So, how are you doing?"

"Fine," I said, never one for small talk. Especially small talk with my ex.

"Right. That's good." When I didn't respond, he said, "I'm good too."

More silence.

"Did you see my try today?" he asked eventually.

My eyes flicked back to him. Maybe Corey had been right. Maybe Dylan really was jealous—in the complete wrong way.

He looked at me, almost hopefully, and I practically withered under his gaze. He might have been a terrible human being, but this was the guy who I'd known since high school. He was my first boyfriend. My first everything.

This was the guy who took me to my Year 12 formal. He had matched his tie to my hot pink dress. Even when his footy mates teased him for it, he stuck by me. Even when I freaked out the night before, panicking over the idea of everyone seeing me in a tight pink dress, he'd stuck by me. He drove over in the middle of the night just to hold me.

What was I doing?

This whole contract was a terrible idea. I just needed to talk to Dylan. Seeing him here, I wanted to take it all back.

Except, as soon as the thought entered my mind, I was hit with the memory of our break-up. The half of me that wanted to swear at him and tell him to do some not-very-nice-things to himself flared back to life.

I wasn't sure which half of me would win the internal battle.

"I did," I said. A smile ghosted over my lips, fighting against that part of me that wanted to rip Dylan's face off. "You played great."

His smile morphed into one of pride. "I did, didn't I?"

My eye twitched. The revenge half of me grew a little stronger.

"Corey was good too, wasn't he?" The words burst from my lips. Petty. It worked. Dylan's face fell.

"What is going on between you two? You're not actually dating, are you?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Is it so hard to believe?"

"I just—I didn't realise you guys had even spoken before. The things you used to say about him..."

Shit. Of course, he remembered. I shrugged, trying to play it off.

"That was a long time ago. When we started to get to know each other, I realised who the real Corey was."

Ha. Big load of shit. Corey was exactly the kind of arrogant person I'd suspected he was. Too good for anyone else. Too proud to admit his wrongs.

Dylan didn't need to know that though.

"Seriously?" Dylan asked. He lifted a brow. My heart stuttered. This wasn't good. He wasn't buying it. I nodded.

"He's actually really sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Yes, Dylan. I'm happy with him," I said, finally standing. "And I'm happy for you."

"For me?"

"For you and your new girlfriend," I said matter-of-factly. "What was her name again? Chelsea?"

"Celeste," he said, recognition flooding his eyes. His brows creased. "How did you—I mean. She's just—"

"Really, Dylan. No hard feelings. I'm happy for you. I'd love to meet her."

No hard feelings. Good one, Sage. Oh, I had hard feelings. To the point that I'd approach the captain of his footy team and arrange a vague, revenge-centred deal to pretend to date for three months.

But again, Dylan didn't need to know that.

Instead, I smiled sweetly, batting my eyelashes. I wondered if he could see through me. How well did he know me after a year of dating? Clearly not that well, because he hesitated and turned towards the sliding back doors.

"She's just outside."

My smile faltered. Great. I'd actually have to meet her. It was the fault of my own big mouth. I recovered quickly before he could turn back to face me.

"Oh," I said, "perfect."

"And... where's Corey?"

Ugh. Corey. I blinked slowly, trying to keep the repulsion off my face. "He's just getting me a drink."

"He won't mind if I steal you for a moment?"

"Definitely not," I said, stepping past him. "Let's go."

I could use the fresh air anyway. I lead the way through the glass doors, stepping out to Wes' backyard. It was quieter here, the speakers far inside the house. Instead, people lounged around on plastic chairs. Some dipped their feet in the pool, too cold to actually get in.

"So?" I said as Dylan paused beside me. "Which one is she?"

He hummed, looking around for a moment. "I don't know where she's run off to."

I tried to hide my relief as he continued to scan the crowds, looking for her face. I took it as my opportunity to escape the grave I'd dug for myself.

"That's alright. Corey's probably waiting for me." I turned, ready to head back inside. "See you around, Dylan."

"Sage, wait," he said. His fingers wrapped around my wrist and I flinched, as if I'd been scalded by his touch. His fingers only tightened, and I froze, hoping he couldn't feel the flutter of my pulse under his fingertips.

He hadn't touched me since that night.

"You can't be serious about him," he said.

I blinked, trying not to think about his hand on my wrist. His grip had slackened, and his hand slipped lower on my wrist—almost holding my own hand. I forced my eyes to stay on his. "What do you mean?"

"Corey. He—I know you probably don't know this but, he gets around you know? He's probably off somewhere with another girl right now."

His words stung me, but not for the reason he expected. Corey and I weren't really dating. He could play around with other girls all he wanted—not that he would. We had a contract and, as much as he annoyed me, I knew he wouldn't break it.

If word got out about our fake relationship, my reputation didn't really matter. Corey's however, that was another story.

No, Dylan's words stung me because of the insinuation. I ripped my hand out of his grip and narrowed my eyes into a glare.

"He's not like you, Dylan."

He paused, his mouth opening, then closing. Slowly, his expression morphed into a matching glare.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means."

"Please, enlighten me."

"You know what, Dylan? It's one thing to break up with me the way you did, but it's a whole other thing to not admit to it. That's low, Dylan. Seriously low."

"Sage," he said, but I turned.

I didn't want to hear it.

My plan was never to confront him like this. Of course, all those nights following our break-up, I'd thought about it. I'd considered every scenario where we'd bump into each other, and I'd swear at him. Slap him. Kiss him. Beg him to take me back. Ignore him.

In the end, I'd settled with kindness. Being the bigger person. He could grapple with his guilt on his own.

Except, here I was, marching away from him, tears stinging my eyes.

He'd cheated on me, publicly, and he didn't even have the decency to own up to it? Worse, he'd insinuated that Corey would cheat on me too. Was that why he'd done it? He thought it was inevitable? That I existed only to be used when convenient. Discarded when a better option popped up.

"Sage?"

I collided hard into Corey's chest.

"What the fuck?" he practically shouted. "Where were you? I've been looking everywhere. You broke our first rule! I should—"

"Shut up, Corey!" I shouted, shoving him back. He didn't move an inch—that stupid concrete body of his. "Now is not the time."

"Not the t—" he froze, his eyes finally falling onto my face, probably blotchy and watery. His expression morphed into a frown. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing," I hissed. "And besides, you broke the rule first."

He didn't hear me. He was too busy looking past my shoulder at what I could only assume was Dylan.

"What did he say?" Corey muttered, his eyes focused far away.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing important."

Corey's jaw tightened. One of his hands lifted to wrap around my waist.

"Stay close," he murmured.

I frowned, turning just in time to see Dylan approaching.

"Corey," he said, smiling. "How are you?"

"Fine," Corey said. His grip on my waist tightened. "I was just looking for my girlfriend."

"Right. Imagine my surprise when I heard you guys are dating."

"Is it that surprising?" Corey asked.

"Yeah. Considering." He lifted a brow at Corey whose body only tensed further. My frown deepened.

There was something here. Something I didn't know. Something I wanted to know.

"He's not who you think he is," Dylan said, suddenly looking at me.

"Shut up, Dylan," Corey seethed.

Dylan's eyes snapped back up to his. "Should I? I think she deserves to—"

He couldn't finish his sentence before Corey's fist collided with his jaw.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

I just wanted to thank you all for your support and patience these past few months! It really means the world to me xx

I hope you enjoyed this extra long chapter. I'm starting to hint towards something hehe. Any guesses?