I haven't seen Beau since he dropped me off at my apartment after our "date," if you could even call it that. More like a completely orchestrated publicity stunt. Still, it did the trick, I think to myself, looking around at my apartment. Now I'm all caught up on my rent, and I'll soon have enough to put a couple months down in advance. Nadine would never kick me out, but I never want to take advantage of her kindness. If there's one thing I hate, it's being indebted to someone with no way to return the favor.

I check the clock on the wall - only eleven. I have an hour before my meeting with Beau and his "team." They're bringing over our contract, I giggle to myself. An actual contract on how to pretend to be Beau Lewis's girlfriend. This is crazy, I let out a deep sigh as I tidy up the kitchen from my late breakfast. I straighten the chairs and sweep the floor of any crumbs, already envisioning the look on Beau's face when he sees my apartment. I'm sure it'll be added to the list of things he can mock me about later. A sudden pounding at the door startles me from my thoughts.

"Beau," I open the door to see that familiar black bed head. "I thought we were meeting at noon,"

"We are." Beau frantically motions for me to let him in. Taken by surprise, I step aside instantly. "Okay," he sighs once he's inside the apartment. "I think I lost them,"

I take a few steps back, hands on my hips. "Lost who?" Beau eyes me sheepishly, and I prompt him once more. "You lost who, Beau?"

"A group of girls started following me," He shrugs casually, looking around the apartment with his perpetual unimpressed expression.

"You brought... groupies to my apartment?" I glare at him as he makes his way around my kitchen, opening and closing cabinets. "Can I get you something?" I snap. He looks up instantly, amusement turning the corners of his lips in a sarcastic grin as he lets a drawer roll closed with a loud thud.

"One," Beau makes himself comfortable in my arm chair and gazes up at me, bottom lip between his teeth. "Who even says 'groupies' anymore?" His green eyes crinkle as he smiles, his mood slightly more pleasant than normal. "Two, I didn't bring them anywhere, to be clear, they were following me. And like I said, I think I lost them before I got here. And no, I don't need anything, just a place to hide until the coast is clear." The look on his face is smug, like he already knows he'll get what he needs before I even agree.

I glare at him, arms crossed over my chest. "We're meeting soon anyways." I sigh in defeat, sitting cross legged on my couch.

"So this is your place," Beau stands too tall in the center of my living room. "It's cozy," He winks.

"Glad you approve," I scoff, watching him make his way around my apartment. It's so weird to see him in my space like this, so out of place.

"Who're they?" Beau points a long finger at the center photo on my end table and I don't need to peek to know who he's referring to.

"My parents, at our lake house," I smile remembering the day the photo was taken. It was so hot out and I was so tired from the drive, but Mom had insisted we take our annual picture, resulting in the first of many photos over the years where I look completely miserable in front of the camera.

"You were cute, huh?" Beau mocks me, pulling a similar pout as the one I wore in the picture. He laughs at himself, even when I don't. "They look nice, though," his voice is soft before he quickly changes the subject. "Ah, I knew you were a nerd," his trails his longs fingers over my bookshelf, head craned to the side to read the titles.

"How would you know that?"

Beau straightens, turning his attention back to me. "Your craziest dream is to go to college," He chuckles as he grabs a book from the shelf. "Call it a wild guess." He plops down on the couch beside me, handing me the book. I grab it from his hands, pushing myself farther away from his body. "How many times have you read that book?"

I glance at the cover, cursing myself. It's The Great Gatsby, another favorite of mine. "Too many to count," I tell him honestly.

"Thought so," He shrugs, leaning his messy head back against the couch cushion, an arrogant smile on his lips as his hand gently falls to my thigh.

"And what about you?" I retort. "How many more trashy headlines before even you finally get tired of yourself?" I stare into his green eyes intently, watching as they change from amused to completely blank in just a second. Brows raised, he moves his hand back into his own lap without another word.

I almost apologize for my comment. It was harsher than I had meant for it to be. But he's on the phone within seconds, barking commands to whoever is on the other end, and I'm reminded how much I dislike him and his entire attitude. So instead, I carry on as I would have if he hadn't shown up, tidying up my apartment before our other guests arrive.

Maybe this deal isn't a good idea, I stare at the back of his head, and lean back against the sink. What am I getting myself into?

"I told everyone to come sooner. They're on their way now so we can get this over with." Beau mutters without turning to look at me.

"Okay," I reply simply, feeling a bit nervous. I look around for any cleaning that can be done, but sadly there isn't anything I've left unfinished. Reluctantly, I sit next to Beau again where we remain completely quiet until there's another knock at my door.

***

"Okay, Miss Carter, now that everything has been discussed, we can get these documents signed," Fiona, a young but serious woman with a sharp, platinum bob cut, begins pulling papers from her bag. She is the band's publicist, and Rocco, the tall, greying man sitting on my arm chair, is their manager. We've just finished an hour long discussion about the terms of our agreement and I feel a little shell-shocked. There's more to this gig than I had thought. A lot more.

The other members of the band came, as well, to sign some non-disclosure papers. Three other young men make up the rest of the band, a fact I've only just learned today. The boys are all gathered around the kitchen table, on their phones and chatting with one another casually while their team takes care of business. Jace, the blond one who is the lead singer, shows his phone to Beau, who actually laughs, a deep and throaty sound that I haven't heard before. Perhaps feeling my gaze, Beau looks up and catches my eye. Neither of us looks away until Fiona is demanding our attention, handing everyone contracts to sign. He's different around the guys, I peek up at him from under my lashes. He's ... lighter somehow.

"Thanks for helping us out," Zach, the drummer, touches my arm as he hands Fiona his packet of papers. "We really need to get everything back on track."

I smile at Zach, so different from Beau. The other boys aren't as darkly clad as the leather wearing trouble maker, and none of them wear eyeliner or nail polish. Jace has some tattoos that I can see, but Tyler, the final member of the band, is almost preppy with soft curls framing his young face. Zach is tall and lanky, but so far, all smiles.

Beau grunts, "Helping us out? It's not a favor, Zach. She's getting paid," Jace chuckles beside him and I know instantly that he doesn't help Beau's poor behavior. But Beau's the one with the mug shots, I remind myself, scribbling out my signature as quickly as I can.

Tyler slides his contract across the table wordlessly. He hasn't said much the entire time he's been here, I notice, wondering if he's naturally quiet or just uncomfortable. Beau is the last to sign, making a grand spectacle of putting his name to paper. "Voila," Beau tosses the pen across the table as Fiona snatches the papers from his fingers.

"Well then, the deal is done." Fiona smiles professionally at me. "We'll be sending you a schedule by email once we sync our calendars. Special appearances will be starred as important - those are nonnegotiable - things like red carpet appearances, concerts, other events like that. The rest, things like public outings, Instagram posts, and other small scale items can be rearranged if we have to. Although it is wise for us to stick as close to the agenda as we can," Her icy blue eyes pierce mine. "And of course, the biggest point is that this... arrangement is not to get out to the press in any way. Any questions?"

"Um," I stare at a crack in my kitchen table, "I didn't see anything about pay in the contract." I sit a little straighter in my chair, eyeing Fiona in what I hope is a determined expression.

"Oh, yes. Forgive me," Fiona looks to Rocco expectantly.

"Ah, where'd I put it," Rocco pats his coat pockets before pulling out a folded white piece of paper. "This is payment per week," He thrusts his hand to me.

I grab the slip tentatively, gasping when I see the amount written inside. "Holy crap, are you serious?" Jace and Beau chuckle to themselves, mumbling to one another, probably making fun of me. I eye the beer bottles on the table and wonder if drinking is helping Beau's situation at all.

"That's base pay per week. You will be compensated accordingly for special occasions and longer time commitments," Fiona explains. I nod at her mutely, clutching the paper to my chest. "Understand, Miss Carter, that this is a job, not an opportunity to play pretend. You will be working for that money, and it will be challenging work. We expect you to be Beau's girlfriend, so that even we do not doubt that the relationship is real. That means knowing everything about him, the band, everything. It means research and time spent with Beau even when it's not allotted on the agenda. Do you understand?"

Fiona looks at me expectantly. Too late, isn't it? I think to myself, I've already signed the contract. "I understand," I shake her perfectly manicured hand before she leaves the apartment without another word. Rocco tells the boys he'll be back at the hotel if they need anything, shakes my hand, and heads out, leaving me with the men of MisFits, one of whom I'm supposed to be in love with.

I turn to face them and four sets of eyes stare back at me, the green ones looking a little more mischievous than the rest. "Hi, lover," Beau's smile grows wider as Jace laughs out loud beside him.

I roll my eyes and make my way to the couch, turning on the TV. I don't know when they're planning on leaving, but I also can't figure out how to ask them to go. "So you met Fiona, a real peach, wouldn't you say?" Beau slumps beside me, looking up at me like a small child, beer bottle stuck haphazardly between his legs.

"She seems..." I struggle to find the right word as the other guys come closer to our conversation.

"Like a bitch?" Beau finishes, nodding his head. "She's a real buzzkill," Jace hoots in agreement, handing Beau another beer.

"We wouldn't even need her if you'd stop fucking everything up," Tyler finally speaks up for the first time all afternoon, and his tone is almost disgusted.

"What's that Tyler? If you've got something to say, try saying it a little louder, man," Beau jumps to his feet, voice raised. Jesus, really? I sigh as the beer bottle Beau had been holding falls to the floor, fizzy liquid spreading across my rug.

"I said, stop fucking everything up. For once in your life, stop ruining everything you touch," Tyler is seething, standing behind the couch only a couple of feet from Beau. I look to Jace but he's only watching the argument unfold, a lazy grin across his features.

"Hey, screw you, asshole," Beau shouts back, making his way around the sofa. I stand instantly, unsure what to do, but needing to do something. I place my hand on Beau's arm, a weak attempt at holding him back from his band mate.

Zach grabs Tyler's shoulder at the same time and leads him out the front door. "Sorry, Emma," He mutters over his shoulder as he fights to keep Tyler calm. Beau paces the living room like a caged animal as Jace lets out a low whistle. "Well, guess we better call it a night then. See you around, Emma," he winks at me when Beau isn't looking.

"Thanks for the help," I snap before focusing on Beau, anxiously wondering what to say. The anger is radiating off of him in waves and I'm sure if I don't say the right thing, it'll only make everything worse.

"Hey," I whisper, stepping in his path. "You okay?"

Beau halts right in front of me, towering over me. He leans his head forward, dark hair covering his eyes. "It's not in the contract for you to pretend you care when no ones around to see it," He snaps sarcastically, fists clenched at his side.

"I don't need a contract to be a nice person," I respond calmly, raising my palm to his cheek instinctually. Surprisingly, Beau doesn't pull away like I thought he would. Instead, he clamps his tattooed fingers over mine, leaning into my palm with his eyes closed.

We stay like that for awhile, and for a moment, I forget about the shouting and the spilled beer. For a moment, I almost forget that I don't like him. 

Almost.