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I grip my fingers tightly together and sweat pools under my armpits. "One million," I say under my breath.

He holds a hand behind his ear, "What was that?"

"One million for all six days." I draw myself up to my full height. "Take it or leave it."

"Well then," he yawns, "you'd better get going."

"Oh." I stare at him. Disappointment and something else, a strange sensation like I had missed the one thing that could have changed my life completely, twists my insides. I open my mouth to speak, and he lifts an eyebrow.

"Never mind." I shove my hair back from my face, hitch my backpack over my shoulder. "Goodbye." I brush past him and head for the doorway.

"One million pounds." His voice follows me.

I don't stop.

"Per day."

"What?" I stumble, then right myself. "What did you say?"

His lips twist, "Exactly what you heard."

I pivot to face him, "One million pounds per day, for six days?" I blink, then pull on my earlobe.

His grin widens. "Good." He closes the distance between us, "See you at six pm."

"Hold on. What the hell? I didn’t agree to—"

"Sure, you did," he replies.

"No, I didn’t."

"You tugged on your earlobe," he points out.

"What?"

"You do that when you’ve inwardly come to a decision."

"I… I do?"

"Yep." He smirks down at me, "You’re too easy to read, Flower."

"Just because I quoted from Wordsworth, once..."

"It’s also your eyes."

"What?"

"They’re green like the new shoots that come up from the ground in early spring."

"Wow," I breathe, "who’d have thought an obnoxious d-bag like you could be romantic."

"Don’t let my words fool you." He half turns, then shoves his hands inside his pockets.

"Your biggest hit was a love song."

He winces, "It was a rock ballad."

"One with some sexy, angsty verses that had everyone going gaga over it."