The Boyfriend Contract

by Melanie Marks

  However—

  Hey, my car breaks down. What ya gonna do? Apparently, this is the way fate wanted things—me not at the wedding, having to face Conrad all alone. (Thank you fate!)

  I call the auto-club and know that I’m in for a long, long wait. Sigh. Oh well, I have a bunch of games on my phone, so I’m busy getting very into it when—!

  North taps on my window. “Need help?”

  “Nope,” I tell him, going back to my game.

  He smiles slightly. “Kind of seems like you do.”

  “I called the auto-club,” I inform him. “They will be here in about 800 hours.”

  “Then I’m going to fix your car—because I don’t want you to be late for whatever you’re dressed up all fancy for.”

  “It’s a wedding,” I inform him. “If you really want to help me—find me a date for that.”

  He grins, then raises his eyebrows. “I can do that.”

  I blink. “Really?”

  “I have access to wedding gear—of sorts. I mean, I can do better than a T-shirt—probably. I’ll have to check my brother’s closet, but I’m pretty sure.”

  My heart is suddenly slamming against my chest. I need to think. On the one hand, fate seems to be throwing me a hot guy. On the other, it’s North. “Uh, well, I don’t want to keep you from whatever you were out doing.”

  “I was just getting gas, and I got it.” He smiles, “I’ve got gas.”

  “Wonderful!”

  His smile twitches. “Wonderful that you have a date?—or that I’ve got gas?”

  “In general. Both,” I tell him, having absolutely no idea what’s coming out of my mouth. Do I really want this?—a date with North? Is my heart spazzing out because it’s excited … or terrified? I don’t know. I have absolutely no clue.

  I swallow, then dare to ask, “What exactly happened at the store I drove you to that night?”

  His gorgeous lips twitch at the corners. “I got chips and my paycheck.”

  “Your—uh, paycheck?”

  “Yeah.” He draws out a breath, like he knows I’m confused, but he’s not sure if he should explain. “I work at that other convenience store too sometimes. The guy I work for owns both stores—and he likes me.” He raises his eyebrows confidential-like, “—I don’t steal and stuff.”

  I bite my lip. “I’m sorry I thought the worst of you.”

  “Hey, it was a fair assumption.”

  He adds, “—and I didn’t exactly act like an innocent that night. I was doing cupid work.”

  “What?”

  He sighs and runs a hand over his face. “You should really talk to Conrad.”

  “I did—he told me you were only ‘acting’ terrible that night.”

  He grins. “Well, don’t get the wrong idea—I am pretty terrible. But that night I was kind of conflicted. I wanted to make a good impression with you—but I was supposed to make you swear off guys. It made me act weird.”

  “—and like a criminal,” I point out.

  He smiles. “Part of the charm.”

  I gulp, realizing I really like his smile. Like, way too much. I gulp again before I go on with what I’ve been concocting in my barely-working brain, “Listen, I do need a date to the wedding—but it will be a fake-date, okay?”

  “Wait, what?” He leans against my car. “This is getting complicated. Conrad had hired me to fake-date you, now you’re hiring me to fake-date you? Really, I just want to date you—no faking.”

  Aw! My heart flutters, and I’m more than a little flattered. And touched. But the mere idea of us being a real “couple” is also filling me with panic and alarm bells. We can’t “date.” Not for real.

  I tell him quickly, “Look, I’m not your type. And you’re not mine. You drink and stuff, but I’ll pay you to seem totally into me for the wedding.”

  His eyes spark. “Seem into you?” He says dryly, “Yeah, you’ll have to twist my arm for that.”

  CHAPTER 65

  While North is in his house changing into wedding-ish type clothes, I quickly call Paige and tell her that I left my car on the side of the road and I’m in North’s. “Listen, I have to talk fast because I only have a minute—”

  I hear Paige blow her nose very loudly. Too loudly to be able to hear what I’m saying, so I have to start again when she finally finishes, but then there is a lot of sneezing and more blowing and I’m not sure if she’s getting what I’m saying as I explain that I need someone to know I’m with North, because although he’s seems pretty darn adorable and kind, and he’s hot—I’m still not altogether sure I can trust him.

  I go on quickly, “Just in case, you know, you have to tell the authorities where I am, and also, I have AB blood, and—,” I’m saying this last part as North hops back into the car—looking gorgeous, and in a tie. (!!)

  I almost drop my phone; One, because I don’t know how much he heard; and two, ‘cause—wow! The dude looks good. I blink.

  I quickly say to confused Paige, “Never mind, don’t worry about it. I’m set.”

  When I peek sideways at North he just says mildly, “Oh, so you don’t have to give blood at a wedding?”

  He says it sardonically, but that’s all he says.

  Then he starts up the car and we’re off to the wedding.

  Okay, I may be in for a hellish two hours, but hey, my plus-one is hot.

  CHAPTER 66

  The wedding is beautiful! Conrad’s grandma seems so happy and in love.

  At the reception, she gives me a big hug, and gushes about how she met her man. Then she tells me, “I knew it was love when he gave me flowers—for no reason. Just because!”

  I gush, “Aww, I never get flowers just because.”

  Her eyes twinkle, “Now how did you two meet.”

  “Well, we go to the same school,” I tell her.

  “But I finally got my nerve up to ask her on a date last night,” North says. “And she told me about your wedding, and I begged her if I could be her date. I had to duke it out with the guy she was already planning to go with—but obviously I won—here I am.”

  He’s saying all this because Conrad is nearby, looking like he wants to ‘duke it out’ with North. It makes North smile, “His loss.”

  He says it as Bridget tries to get Conrad’s attention, but that doesn’t seem to be going to happen. Conrad’s narrowed eyes are firmly on us.

  North squeezes my shoulder and kisses my cheek—for show.

  As we walk away, I whisper to North, “Do you think they believed us?”

  “No. No way.”

  Doesn’t matter though. I survived the wedding with my heart intact.

  … but just barely.

  Conrad’s eyes had been on us the whole time. He’d looked hurt. And haunted. But what did he expect? He was with his “perfect” girlfriend substitute. It was twisted. But that’s the way it was: He chose her over me.

  CHAPTER 67

  The day after the wedding, there were flowers on my doorstep when I got home from church. My heart pounded as I read the card: “Just because.”

  Then on the back of the card it says, “Well really I got them because you are spectacular, and a spectacularly hot girl, but apparently it’s more romantic to not give a reason, so ignore this and flip back to the other side of the card.”

  I quickly text North, “I just got your beautiful flowers!”

  “I know, I’m stalking you across the street.”

  I read the words, then quickly glance across the street and discover him parked there. He’s sitting in his car, working on a tiny part of an engine or some sort of car part. He gives me a little wave, then gets out and saunters over to me.

  “I just finished with your car,” he says. “Your auto-club had taken it to the shop I work at.”

  “You have a lot of jobs,” I point out.

  “Yeah, and now it seems I can add fake-date to the list.”

  “Thank you so much for the flowers! That was so sweet—but no one was even a
round to witness it.” Well, my mom did. But we’re not fake-dating for my mom’s sake. I tell him, “Still, it was really nice.”

  “Not really,” he says softly. “I had ulterior motives.”

  Tenderly he kisses me, soft and warm. Mmmm.

  Oh no! Wait! This was supposed to be a fake thing. He seems to keep forgetting that … which makes me forget that.

  I quickly pull away from him. “How much do I owe you for the car?”

  “Nothing. My treat, since I just got distracted by your lips again.”

  I trace my enthralled lips with my fingers, still sort of in a daze from his kiss. “Maybe this fake-dating stuff isn’t going to work.”

  He grins. “That’s what I was saying. We should try real.”

  “No that’s not what I was saying. Look, how much do I owe you?—for the car, and the escort?”

  “I’m not going to take your money.”

  “What? You have to. It was our agreement.”

  He shakes his head with a grin. “I never agreed to that. I just agreed to be your date for the wedding.”

  “I have to pay you—you totally rescued me. If you don’t take my money, how can I repay you?”

  “You realize I’m a guy, right?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Okay, so this should be easy. What do guys like?”

  “Football?”

  “Well, in my case—hockey. But no. I wasn’t hoping you’d repay me by giving me hockey pointers.”

  “You were hoping I’d repay you?”

  “Hoping … but not expecting.”

  I bite my lip, my heart not sure what it should do, be excited or offended or what.

  “Uh, okay hoping for what?”

  He scratches his chin playfully, like he’s negotiating in his head how far he thinks he can push this ‘repayment.’ “You know that kiss you gave me at that party?”

  “No,” I breathe out quickly. “I mean no, I’m not going to do that.”

  My heart cannot take any more kisses from him—not like that. This was supposed to be fake!

  “I get to touch your hair and spend five minutes in your neck a day—until you get together with Conrad.”

  I skip the ‘Conrad’ remark, because, well, because. Instead, I gasp out, “Doing what?!”

  “Whatever I want.”

  He adds softly, “—my face in your neck.”

  When I scrunch up my eyebrows, he shrugs, “—sniffing it, mostly.”

  “You are so weird.”

  He grins, like: yes, I know. Or maybe more like: you have no idea. But what he says is: “We have a deal?”

  “This hair touch and neck stuff—this will happen in front of Conrad and Bridget?”

  “No—that’s kinky. I’ll squeeze your shoulder affectionately in front of them, and even give you a nice kiss on the cheek if you ask nicely. But I don’t want to kill Conrad—and really he thinks that girl he is with is already dead. But I digress,” he says. “The deal is, I want alone time with your neck.”

  “You’re so weird.”

  He smiles, “So it’s a deal?”

  “I—I’m going to have to think it over,” I tell him, thoughts of him ‘in my neck’ now swimming around in my brain. Mmmm. Not gonna lie: it’s not exactly a terrible thought. Unfortunately, not even close. In fact, it’s getting my kind of hot, and he seems to know it.

  He grins mildly, “Okay, think it over. Think it over as much as you want.”

  He chuckles slightly as he says it.

  CHAPTER 68

  **CONRAD**

  CONRAD

  I hunt North down as soon as I get to school Monday morning.

  Not hard to find, he’s at his locker, rummaging through it like he hid drugs in there or something. Could just be a book though. I’m not one to give him the benefit of the doubt these days. In fact, I’m all for calling the cops—yet he’s just looking through his locker.

  I growl, “What went on with you and January?”

  He turns to me with a half-sympathetic, yet half-amused smirk, which I’m accustom to getting from him these days, as he’s always giving me them these days. “Hi to you too, and I had a great weekend, thanks for asking.”

  “Dude, what’s going on?”

  “I’m cleaning out my locker. My history teacher tells me she gave me a history book? Is that true? Do teachers give books?”

  I draw out a long breath. “What’s going on with you and January?”

  Mischief dances in his eyes. It’s always there, but right now it’s bugging the cheese out of me and I want to pulverize it. And him.

  He seems to get this. Doesn’t change anything though. He still thinks this is hilarious. He draws out a little sigh. “Relax dude.”

  I would tell him it’s not going to happen, but he already knows this, which just adds to his entertainment. I growl, “Not while you’re anywhere near January.”

  His lips twitch and he says like I asked, “Look, if she brings up sex, I’m not going to turn her down. But I don’t think you have anything to worry about, unfortunately. I don’t think sex has ever even crossed the girl’s mind—ever. She seems to think kissing and rainbows and ice-cream cones is all there is.”

  I grunt. “Good, keep it that way.”

  “Well, if she brings it up—”

  “She won’t,” I growl.

  He curls his fingers in his hair, no longer so entertained. He sighs. “Right. She won’t.”

  “So, you don’t either.”

  He ducks his head. “… okay.”

  Then he laughs slightly, “Anyway if I did, she’d run away screaming.”

  He tosses a stick of gum at me. “So I wouldn’t anyway, even without your grumbling.”

  I slump against his neighbor’s locker—hating that he even said the word “sex” while talking about January.

  He smirks. “Dude, it’s not like I wave a magic wand and get my way with girls.”

  “That kind of seems what you do,” I grumble.

  “Yeah, it does huh?” he says. “But January seems more likely to ride off on a unicorn than even have it occur in her tr-la-la rainbow-filled brain she could ride—well, I’m not going to finish that sentence, since I can see you’re not pleased with where I was going with it—though really, I was trying to reassure you,” he says with a laugh.

  He sighs. “Look, I told you, I don’t have a magic wand … and January doesn’t seem to be under my spell—for some reason.” He smirks. “And we both know that reason is you.”

  This makes me feel better. It’s the first thing that has come out of his mouth that has made me feel like not slugging him since he opened it.

  I negotiate in my tortured ‘January’ and ‘sex’ said-by-North brain long and hard before I ask my next question again, because I’m not sure I really want to know. “So then … what’s going on with you and January?”

  “No clue. But I can tell you what I want to be going on with us—but you don’t want to hear it.”

  I grunt. “I pretty much got the picture at the wedding reception.”

  “Dude, you gave her an invitation to bring a plus-one.”

  “I didn’t want her to do it.”

  “What did you expect her to do?—her plus-one should have been you, right? That’s what you were thinking. But you know what? Your plus-one was your dead girlfriend. Yet dude, you didn’t even seem interested in your dead girlfriend—your eyes were always on January. They’ve always been on January, dude. I know you’re waiting to be perfect, so you don’t screw things up with her and not get to marry her someday or whatever—but you know what? You’re never going to be perfect. Lucky for you, she doesn’t care. She needs you to just not be insane. Stop being haunted by a dead girl—especially when you probably never really especially wanted her even when she was alive. You were just biding your time to get back with January.”

  Every word he says is true. For a guy that claims to have ADD he seems to have paid amazingly close attention to January
—and therefore, me; and the whole situation. He’s dead on. I cock my head at him. “So, I don’t get what you’re doing.”

  “Me neither.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Look, I like her. I can’t deny I like her—very much. It makes it hard for me to be good and resist her. But she’s always been your territory. And nothing’s really changed. Except me. I get these desires to be a bad friend. I mean, for the wedding, I was figuring you needed a nudge—I was happy to nudge. Very happy, very willing. But now I’m like, ‘wouldn’t it be nice if he never makes a move?—if I get this beautiful girl all to myself?’ Got to tell you dude, it’s making me almost hope you stay insane.”

  “Thanks,” I say dryly.

  He cocks an eyebrow. “It’s kind of your move, man.”

  CHAPTER 69

  **CONRAD**

  CONRAD

  Okay, having gotten that dementedly twisted pep-talk from North, I avoid Bridget while I hunt up January. I find her in the tutor-lab waiting for her turn to be assisted with math. I sit down beside her and watch as she basically wears a hole in her worksheet from all the erasing she keeps doing.

  “You’re so mad at me you’ve resorted to the tutor-lab instead of coming to me for math help?” I ask.

  Apparently, she’s too frustrated with math-stress to give me the silent treatment anymore. “At this point, no,” she moans.

  I blink. “What?”

  Still erasing, she says, “Although I won’t ‘come to you,’ since you’re here, I’ll use you.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I tell her sardonically, though really I’m thrilled to hear this. My heart is suddenly pounding with embarrassingly irrational happiness.

  “Use me to your heart’s content,” I tell her.

  … and then she does.

  I help her until the bell rings, and she has to reluctantly leave me. (Very reluctantly.) It sucks that she’s only so sad about it because she needs my mad math skills.