CHAPTER 3

Natalie

I'm sitting inside Bianca's apartment. We are heading out to a frat party tonight, and all the other girls are doing their makeup while I'm fighting Noah over the phone.

Son of a gun: Will you be at the party tonight?

Me: I'm not telling you that.

I dig my elbows into the couch, glaring at my phone once those three dots jump over the screen. Noah is quick with his replies. Doesn't he have a life or something?

Son of a gun: I've been meaning to ask you something.

I lift an eyebrow at Noah's text and convince myself that I'm only replying to him because I have nothing else to do. It's not like I'm into the guy or something.

Me: What?

Son of a gun: Our dad said your rent is pretty high and that he is paying for your living arrangement. Do you want to move into the mansion? It would save you a lot of money, and you would have your personal chauffeur take you to school every morning.

Noah is insane! My cheeks and face scald as if someone had poured liquid lava over my entire body. I furiously tap him a reply.

Me: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP CALLING MY DAD "OUR" DAD! DO YOU KNOW HOW CREEPY THAT IS?

Son of a gun: I'm only doing it to tease you. You're seething right now, aren't you? I wish I could see your face.

I send him a picture of me flipping him the bird. It gets immediately seen, and there is a little zing in my heart that I won't acknowledge when he sends me a laugh-crying emoji.

Son of a gun: You're cute.

I blush at his message, and another one pops up. It's a selfie of Noah's newly showered self. His brown hair is sticking out in every direction, and his six-pack is visible through the middle crack in his bathrobe.

A spike of heat bolts from my heart down into my pants.

Holy cheese, how low have I sunk? It's a new pathetic getting wet over a goddamn selfie.

Me: You're so not cute.

Son of a gun: You wound me.

Me: You deserve it.

Son of a gun: Think about what I said, okay? You would save a fortune living with me in the mansion.

I sigh because Noah has a point.

Me: I will think about it.

Son of a gun: Great! There are plenty of benefits to living with me. Me, for example.

Disgusted, I lock my screen and mentally tell myself never to write back to the cocky asshole.

Noah Parker is all kinds of wrong. He is the devil incarnate and a total manipulator!

"Oh boy," Linnea says as she sits next to me. "I fear for whoever pissed you off, girl—you're all red in the face."

I will calm down." I reach for my glass of vodka on the windowsill, chugging down a good amount.

Linnea is still looking at me when I'm done. "Was it a boy?"

"No, of course not!" I exclaim, a little too fast.

Linnea laughs. "I knew it! You have finally met someone. Gosh, I'm so happy for you!"

"Met someone?" I shake my head. "No, god, I'm not dating the guy I was texting with. Hell no!"

"But you admit it was a guy?"

"Yes, but we aren't dating."

"Do you want to date him, though?"

"No, didn't I just establish that?"

"Yes," Linnea grins. "But your blush tells me otherwise; you like him, don't you? I've never seen you this flustered."

I pout. "I don't like the guy..."

Linnea ignores that part about me not liking Noah and instead sizes me up with invested eyes. "Will this mysterious guy be at the party?"

"Maybe."

Her smile turns cat-like; I don't like the gleam within them.

Something tells me Linnea is up to no good, but I can't run from her now. Linnea loves to dress up others and make them look good, and now I've turned into her victim.

And I say victim because I rarely care what I look like. I throw on a hoodie and head out without makeup—that's usually me. Then again, I rarely catch anyone's attention that way.

I'm not popular with guys.

"Then we have to fix your makeup and change your clothes! You're not charming anyone wearing sweatpants."

"I don't want to charm the mystery guy!" I realize I'm acting like a total brat, but Noah has that effect on me. I've been in the war zone ever since he made me shake his palm.

"Bah, quit being such a buzzkill and let me work my magic!" Linnea grabs my hand and pulls me with her. "Bianca has a lot of clothes, and once she hears that you're texting with a guy, she will allow you to borrow anything from her wardrobe. And you're sexy in a pair of tight jeans—you need to show off your curves more!"

"I don't have any curves!"

"Are you blind?!" Linnea snorts at me like I'm deranged. "You have an hourglass figure, and you're thick—after I've dressed you up, every guy will ask for your number at the frat party."

Linnea pulls me into Bianca's hallway. Mirrors are taking up an entire wall, and Linnea grabs a chair. She motions for me to sit on it with a bright smile on her lips.

“Sit down, mademoiselle. Let me make you look like sex and fire combined. That guy you're texting with?" Linnea winks at me in the mirror while sorting my hair. "He is going to have to fight for you tonight."

I snort. "I doubt that."

"Ah, you're underestimating my matchmaking abilities," Linnea puts on a weird French accent that doesn't sound French at all. "But not to worry. I'm a god with makeup, and you're already pretty—I will just bring forth your natural beauty. Your man will fall head-over-heels in love. Well, if he isn't already, huh?"

A mild blush spreads over my cheeks as Linnea combs through my messy brown hair. Music plays from the bathroom where Bianca and Luna are fixing themselves, and Linnea is heating a curling iron for my hair. She also found a pretty Dior lipstick in the color red.

When Linnea curls my hair, I meet her kind eyes in the mirror. "Thank you for doing this for me."

"What are friends for?" Linnea says, adding. "Between us, I've always considered you my best friend. I trust you, and I want to help you get together with this guy. Even if you won't tell me his name."

Linnea is a good person.

I feel bad that I can't tell her about Noah. Not that anything remotely romantic is going on between us, but it would relieve the burden of someone else knowing about our arrangement.

Sadly, I don't think it's a good idea that anyone knows about Noah and me. Linnea might be a good friend, but Bianca is known for spilling tea. She loves a good session of gossiping, sometimes even about her friends.

"I won't tell you his name," I say. "And nothing romantic is going on between us, but... He is great in bed."

Linnea grins, whisper-yelling. "I KNEW you had lost your virginity! I just... Shit, I don't know, but... You've had this glow ever since that game... Wait, is this mysterious guy on the football team?!"

My face turns bright red, and Linnea snorts. Her lips are quivering, and her eyes are sparkling. "OH-MY-GOD!"

"Shh!" I hush her. "Quiet, or the other two will hear you!"

"I'm sorry, I'm just..." Linnea shakes her head. "I can't believe you're sleeping with a football player—those guys are like gods on campus! Girls go to their games like it's their church and the men are part of their religion! Most of the guys are treated like gods!"

I snort. "You're funny!"

"I'm not joking. Bianca bought a goddamn picture of Liam's package—girls on campus actually buy those!"

"You're kidding?"

“I’m not,” Linnea smiles at me, all curious. "Tell me this guy's name, and I will tell you if his pictures are for sale."

"No!" I almost shout, laughing at our bizarre conversation. "We aren't a thing, but good try!"

She sighs. "You're right—I definitely tried."