Page 8 of Rule Breakers Fall Hardest

I don’tdate. Not for lack of trying, and not because I don’t want to. But guys only seem to want me for one thing. I enjoy sex as much as the next person, so it’s not like I’m going to deny myself. But it pisses me off that if I were a guy sleeping with half the cheerleading squad, I’d be applauded, yet because I’m a girl sleeping with athletes, I’m looked at as a slut even by the guys who use me for sex.

“I wish you would’ve told me. Did you think you couldn’t trust me with your secret?” She sticks out her bottom lip, pouting. “I thought we were best friends.”

I rack my brain for an excuse that will appease her. “I… uh… you’ve been, you know, having issues with Tommy. More so than usual. I didn’t want you to feel bad that I was—am”—I shoot a panic-stricken look at Daire—“happy.”

“Tommy,” she says forlornly, tears returning. Sniffling, she turns away from us.

“Her boyfriend,” I mouth at the man beside me. “They break upa lot.”

He nods, lips twitching in an effort not to laugh.

Bertie snags a few tissues from the box on the counter and blows her nose. The sound that comes out of her is more fitting for a grown man than a petite college girl.

“That was sweet of you,” she says, tossing the tissue into the trash, “but I still would’ve been happy for you.”

“We can talk about this later,” I assure her. If I don’t shut this down now, we could be here having this conversation all night. “Right now, I need to speak to my fiancé,” I say through gritted teeth.

Before either of them can protest, I grab ahold of Daire’s arm and tug him into my room. Luckily, he doesn’t put up a fight, because there’s no way I’m strong enough to pull him by myself. I close the door and turn to face him, hands on my hips and ready to give him a piece of my mind. But he’s not paying any attention to me. He’s too busy looking around my room.

I wonder what it looks like through his eyes. The hints of red—my favorite color—the desk stacked with books and a worrying number of pens. My bed is made, the white comforter big and fluffy. I got it because it reminded me of marshmallows, and who doesn’t think about diving into a big pile of those things from time to time?

He studies a picture on the shelf above my desk. In it, I’m flanked by his brothers. It’s one of very few photos I have with them that doesn’t include him.

“Why do you have this?” he asks, frowning at me.

“I still talk to them sometimes.” I whisper the confession. Especially Roman, his younger brother. But that’s none of his business. They were all my friends, but Daire was mybestfriend.

“Hmm,” he hums, the sound full of what could be annoyance, though maybe it’s only curiosity.

I cross my arms over my chest. It may come off as defensive, but I don’t care. I learned a long time ago to guard myself against him in any way I can. Marrying him? Out of the question. “This isn’t going to work,” I tell him. “We hate each other.”

He finally looks away from the picture. “That’s exactly why itwillwork.”

“Come again?”

“We hate each other,” he reiterates. “Therefore, we don’t have to worry about feelings getting involved.”

I wrinkle my nose. “This is crazy. I… you would owe me. Big time.”

I’m not actually considering this, am I? Did I bump my head? Am I suffering from a concussion? Maybe all of this is a dream and I’m about to wake up and have a really big laugh about it.

“I know,” he says. “Money, cars, whatever you decide you want, it’s yours.”

“All this because of a kid?”

I ignore the stabbing pain in my side at the thought. As a little girl and into my teenage years, I was convinced thatIwould be the mother of his kids one day. I even picked out names, for crying out loud.

“All because ofmykid.”

I wet my lips, stalling for time, turning his proposition over in my head. I hate that I’m even considering it, that even though I hate him, the little girl inside me is jumping up and down with excitement. Apparently, she didn’t get the memo that this is fake.

“What are these?” he asks, picking up the diet pills and frowning at the label.

I close my eyes and pull in a breath through my nose. Dammit. Why didn’t I throw them away the second I opened the package? I snatch the bottle from him and hold it behind my back. “Nothing.”

“They’re diet pills.” His voice is higher than normal, and his eyes are wide. “Why would you need diet pills? Your body is perfect.”

Those words send a bolt of elation through me. I try not to preen under that statement, but it’s hard.

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