Chapter 3

It doesn't take long before I learn the rules of Ridgemont University.

There are two people you don't mess with: Ethan Wentworth and Damien Wentworth.

Ethan Wentworth is the school-approved golden boy.

He has the top GPA, he's the debate team captain and student body president, and he gives the keynote at every homecoming. Even the creases on his shirt look like they've been approved by the administration.

Damien Wentworth is the complete opposite.

He spent most of his life overseas. He's been back less than a month and has already snapped a heavy-bag chain in the boxing gym, gotten hauled to the police station after a fight outside a bar, and had to be personally retrieved by a member of the board of trustees.

Rumor has it girls throw themselves at him constantly. One girl showed up at his dorm in a tank top at two in the morning. He grabbed her by the collar and tossed her out. Humiliating.

And then there's Serena Walsh, the wound in Ethan's chest that never healed.

They dated freshman year.

When her stomach hurt, he walked across campus to bring her soup. When she had stage fright before a performance, he skipped an important meeting to sit through her rehearsal. When people made comments about her ordinary background, he publicly talked back to his own mother for the first time in his life.

Victoria Wentworth ended that relationship.

After the breakup, Ethan became colder and more distant. Serena became more pitiful and sympathetic.

Everyone at school is convinced they were forced apart and that it's only a matter of time before they find their way back to each other.

And I'm the obstacle the Wentworth family suddenly shoved in the middle. A very large obstacle.

At lunch, Ethan shows up at my desk.

"Come with me."

"Where?"

"Dining hall. Grandmother requires us to be seen together at least three times a week."

Fine. Contract's a contract. I'm getting paid for this.

We sit down, and I set out his pill and a glass of water first.

"Take your medicine."

His hand reaches for it, and a slender, pale hand appears out of nowhere.

"Try this with it. It helps with the bitter taste."

Serena Walsh is standing beside our table, a piece of candy in her palm.

She gives me a gentle smile.

"Don't mind me, Tatum. Ethan's never liked taking pills. Old habit."

She sets the candy next to his glass and walks away.

Ethan's expression tightens. His eyes follow her for half a second before he catches himself and looks away.

Dozens of eyes are locked on me. Whispers everywhere. They're all waiting to see how I react.

How am I supposed to react? These ribs are actually pretty good.

I'm gnawing on a rib bone when I notice Serena's gaze drifting back over every few seconds.

I lean toward Ethan and lower my voice.

"Your ex is really worried about you. If you passed out right now, she could finish crying at your funeral before I finish this rib."

"Tatum."

Ethan's voice is ice cold.

"What?"

"Shut up and eat."

I'm about to give him a live play-by-play of Serena's next move when Damien shows up.

He drops into the seat across from us, reaches over, plucks a strawberry right off my plate, and pops it in his mouth. Like we're close enough to share food.

…He took the reddest one.

A girl nearby gasps.

"Morning." Damien grins at me. "Little fiancée."

"…It's the afternoon." I glare at him, still mourning my strawberry. "And don't call me that!"

"Was I wrong?"

Ethan sets down his fork. "What do you want?"

"Relax. It's not like you two are real. You don't even like her."

"That's not the point."

"Then why are you so tense?"

Hold on. Are these two always like this?

The air gets weird. I can feel the chatter around us die down. Please don't start a fight. Please. I haven't touched my pulled pork sliders yet.

My phone buzzes, breaking the tension.

A campus-wide text: Fitness assessment, 2 PM, main training field.

Ethan grabs my phone.

"You're with the student council group."

"Huh? Why?"

"Because I said so."

Damien plucks the phone out of his hand, scans the screen.

"Too bad. The boxing club needs a test recorder. I already put in the request through the athletics department."

I snatch my phone back. I don't have time for their little tug-of-war over my schedule.

Because I've just seen what's blowing up on the campus forum.

Someone snuck a photo of me from behind and put it side by side with Serena Walsh.

[How desperate did the Wentworths have to be to force THIS on Ethan?]

[Taking bets: does the fat girl pass out on the track?]

[Imagine her in workout clothes ??]

[Respectfully… she's wifey ??]

[Bro WHAT? YOUR wifey?? Get help ??]

…

I'm used to this kind of thing. But saying it doesn't sting at all would be a lie.

I close my phone and pretend I didn't see any of it.