Not Your Backup: The Billionaire's Fake Game

His high school promqueen exgirlfriend jabbed her finger right in my face, screaming that I was a cheap bitch. Her palm cracked against my cheek. He slapped his ex right back.

His fingers clamped around my hand like a vise, forcing me to be with him. He swore I was the only one he truly wanted now.

Staring at the face I had loved for six straight years, I almost fell for it. Chapter 1 Freshman year, Julian and I were in the same homeroom. My first impression of him? Tall.

Too tall. While most of the guys in our grade were hovering around fivefooteight, Julian had already shot past sixfootone.

Whenever we had school assemblies, he stuck out like a sore thumb. His desk was right next to the aisle.

Sometimes, he'd just stretch his ridiculously long legs out into the walkway because they simply didn't fit underneath the desk.

Especially between periods, he'd leave them sprawled out, already passed out facedown on his desk. I sat two rows behind him.

Whenever I had to walk past, it was like running a hurdle race. Once, I accidentally kicked his knee and startled him awake. He knew he was blocking the way.

He looked up, flashing an apologetic smile that showed off two slightly pointed canine teeth. That was the first time it hit me—he had a really nice smile. Playful. Bright.

It reminded me of the white dogwood trees blooming out behind the football field in April. We only actually got to know each other because we became partners in crime.

For a while, breaking into the teachers' lounge to steal the history final exam answers became a raging trend in our grade.

The lounge was on the ground floor, right facing the school's outdoor parking lot.

Rumor had it students were constantly sneaking in to snap pictures of the answers, leaking the test questions early. The teachers practically went to war with us over it.

Some hid the papers under stacks of grading rubrics, others stuffed them into storage bins, and a few even shoved them inside the cleaning supply closets.

Look, it wasn't that they didn't know how to lock a window. Half the time they just forgot, and the other half?

Those oldschool latch windows popped right open if you jiggled a wire hanger into the gap. One afternoon right after the final bell, the staff had an emergency meeting.

As the AP English TA, it was my job to collect the weekly reading journals and drop them off in the lounge. Out of fortyeight kids, I only had thirtyseven notebooks.

Eleven slackers ghosted me. Ms.

Abbott told me to tally up the missing names and leave the list on her desk. "Make sure you check the windows and lock the door on your way out." "Got it." Honestly, what happened next wasn't totally my fault.

She told me to check the windows on my way out. She never said anything about checking them while I was still in the room. That was exactly when Julian climbed through the window.

I was crouching in the corner, counting the journals. A giant desk and mountains of textbooks blocked me from view. Julian thought the lounge was empty.

He was hunting for the upcoming English pop quiz. He rifled through three different English teachers' desks before I heard a smug little whisper. "Gotcha.

There's nowhere to hide now." "Excuse me?" I shot up from behind the pile of notebooks. Julian and I just stared at each other. He froze. He hadn't been talking to me.

He was talking to the test paper. The test paper he was currently gripping in his hand.

A voice boomed from the lounge doorway. "What are you two doing in here?" Who would have guessed the Calculus teacher needed a bathroom break right in the middle of their meeting?

The route to the restroom went right past the lounge. He caught Julian redhanded. Julian didn't even flinch.

He crumpled the test paper, shoved it deep into the pocket of his baggy sweatpants, and pointed straight at me. "I was looking for her. Maeve, I left my reading journal at home.

Can you tell Ms. Abbott I'll bring it in tomorrow?" The Calculus teacher slowly shifted his glare to me. "And what are you doing in here?

Is he telling the truth?" Chapter 2 If I had known the Calculus teacher’s beady little eyes had already caught Julian’s sleight of hand, I never would have blindly nodded my head. "Yeah…" Ten minutes later, I officially became an accomplice.

Covering for Julian earned me the exact same punishment: a solid week of afterschool detention. For a whole week, Julian and I were stuck in that stuffy detention room.

Whenever the monitor wasn't looking, we'd slide snacks under the desks to each other. Because of that detention, things heated up fast between us.

We built a solid, traumabonded foundation. After the first day of detention ended, Julian practically did a magic trick, pulling out my absolute favorite: a loaded Mexican taco.

I actually felt touched. He dragged me down with him, so I deserved a little compensation. Then he ruined it. "I bought too much. Couldn't finish it." My fingers twitched.

I wanted to smash that taco right into his smug face. Julian leaned back in his chair. "Why did you nod? You could have just told the truth." Honestly, I didn't even know.

We were in the same class; ratting him out felt wrong. We had to see each other every single day. Things would get awkward. Plus… he was really goodlooking.

Beauty truly was a deadly trap. I kept my mouth shut about that part. "Probably because the Calculus teacher and I have a blood feud," I mumbled. It was public knowledge.

I was the one and only person in our class who actually stood up and yelled, "What kind of psycho actually likes math?!" Right after I screamed it, I saw the Calculus teacher standing outside the classroom window.

His face looked like a thundercloud. He glared a hole right through my skull. I practically died on the spot. Ever since then, he had it out for me.

My English and Math scores had a solid eightypoint gap, and he definitely played a part in that disaster. While I was drowning in math, Julian was suffocating in English.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have been breaking in to steal tests. Julian tilted his head, thinking it over. Then, he leaned in. Close. "Let me tell you a secret, Maeve," he whispered.

He paused. "I'm a psycho. I love math." What the hell? Why was he acting so cocky? I could handle the arrogance, but why did he have to get so close?

And why was he acting so… cute?! Was this on purpose?! His lips hovered right next to my ear. Every syllable he breathed out stirred the loose baby hairs against my cheek.

A hot flush crawled up my neck. My skin burned. That was a late spring evening. We walked out of the school building together.

The setting sun painted the sky in streaks of gold and bruised purple. We stopped near the giant dogwood tree by the entrance.

A warm evening breeze swept past, shaking a few loose white petals down onto his shoulder. I remembered that flower. And I remembered him.

But it was only after that day that I found out the truth. Julian already had a girl permanently etched into his heart. Vivienne. His childhood sweetheart.

Chapter 3 Because of her parents' job transfer, Vivienne went to high school out of state in her mom's hometown, Portland.

Julian was constantly taking road trips up there to see her. His goto excuse?

He was obsessed with the hiking trails around Mount Hood, and he just happened to drop by her place while he was in the area.

His roommate scoffed at him once. "Yeah, Mount Hood is great! Perfect cliff to jump off when she inevitably breaks your heart!" How could he not get his heart broken?

I'd bet my life Vivienne knew exactly what she was doing. Every time Julian drove up there, they went through the exact same routine.

Dinner dates, shopping, movies, latenight deep talks, expensive gifts. They did every single thing couples do, minus the handholding, the kissing, and the sex.

Yet she never asked questions. She just comfortably soaked up every ounce of his blind devotion.

I asked him once. "What's the endgame here, Julian?" He just shrugged. "Does there have to be an endgame when you like someone?

Can't I just want nothing in return?" A strange, bitter taste coated the back of my throat. My chest tightened until it was hard to draw in a full breath.

I found out pretty quick that Julian really meant it. He expected absolutely nothing. Even when his goddess already belonged to someone else. And that someone wasn't him.

During our sophomore year, Vivienne ended up in the hospital getting her appendix out. Julian ditched class and drove all the way up to Portland to see her.

But when he got to her room, he stopped at the door. Through the crack, he saw another guy inside.

Vivienne was the one recovering from surgery, but she was leaning over, sharing the same vanilla milkshake with that guy.

She even guided the whipped creamcoated straw directly into his mouth. Her eyes were practically dripping with pure, undisguised adoration. Julian just stood there in the hallway.

He had a box of artisan chocolates gripped in his left hand and a massive bouquet in his right. He froze, paralyzed outside the door, unsure if he should walk in or back away.

While he stood there anchored to the floor, Vivienne and the guy started making out.

The exact thing Julian only dared to fantasize about in his dreams was happening right in front of him. Only, in his dreams, he was the male lead.

In reality, he was just a background extra. He told me later that it felt like a shotgun blasted a hole straight through his ribcage. He watched them swallow each other up.

If the guy hadn't suddenly noticed the door was cracked open, his hand would have disappeared up Vivienne's hospital gown.

Vivienne caught a glimpse of a shadow in the hall. "Who's out there?" The sound of her voice snapped Julian out of his trance. He turned and bolted.

He didn't even know why he was the one running like a criminal. His brain just shortcircuited to one single thought: he couldn't let Vivienne feel embarrassed.

When he finally dragged himself back to campus, I was looking for him to borrow some study guides. One look at him and I stopped dead.

His jaw was bruised, his left knee was scraped up, and the palms of his hands were shredded raw. I thought he got jumped. "I tripped," he muttered, brushing past me.

He told me the rest of the story later. When he bolted from her hospital room, he slammed straight into a nurse pushing a metal medication cart.

He went down hard, faceplanting right onto the linoleum floor. His jaw took the brunt of the impact. It made my own teeth ache just thinking about it.

But he was so terrified Vivienne would catch him catching her, he swallowed the pain, scrambled off the floor, and kept running. That was the thing about Julian.

As long as he believed he was in the right, a literal freight train could hit him and he wouldn't bow his head. He'd argue with the principal to his face if he had to.

In my eyes, he was untouchable. Proud. He was never a mess. And he was certainly never reduced to crawling for scraps. Chapter 4 My blood boiled.

I slammed my hand on the desk. "Why the hell did you run? You're not the one who should feel guilty! If she's hooking up with some other guy, why didn't she tell you?

Stringing you along while she's playing the field—she's the one who should be sweating!" "What do you know?" Julian snapped back, actually defending her. "I never officially told her I liked her.

She doesn't know anything!" That was the first time I actually watched someone drag themselves through the dirt. "Who she likes, who she dates—that's her choice," he muttered, staring at the floor. "I have the freedom to like her, and she has the exact same freedom to not like me back.

If she chose someone else, I should just respect it. Right?" I opened my mouth, fully prepared to rip into him. But the words died in my throat. His eyes were bloodshot.

He kept his head down. That bright, cocky spark in his eyes was gone, replaced by a hollow, dead stare. That was when I fell for him. My chest physically ached looking at him.

He was just too good of a guy. Looking back, I probably treated him differently from the other guys way before this.

But it took watching him bleed over someone else for me to finally realize what that difference actually meant.

I just didn't know back then that the exact same loyalty I fell for would eventually be the reason I had to walk away.

Second semester of junior year, Julian told me Vivienne's mom caught her sneaking out with her boyfriend.

Her mom took a pair of kitchen scissors and hacked off half her hair as punishment, banning her from wearing anything but baggy sweatpants. She called Julian crying.

She literally told him, "I know you like me, Julian, but I can't help it. I just love him." And Julian?

He practically tore his hair out pacing the room, acting like he was the one being physically tortured over his goddess.

Every time I called him an idiot, it felt like I was slapping my own face. He'd always just glare at me. "What do you know, Maeve? You've never been in love." Right. Sure.

Throughout all of high school, his obsession with Vivienne only grew. And my obsession with him did the exact same thing.

We were both just trapped in cages, hiding behind the "best friends" label while feeding our own hopeless delusions.

For college, we both ended up at standard state universities right here in the city. He actually majored in Applied Mathematics. Absolute psycho.

Our campuses were only a twentyminute drive apart. I drove over to see him almost every other day.

I became a perfect mirror of how he used to chase Vivienne. "Owen went to Chicago, Aria's up in Boston, and Austin and Quinn both moved to New York," I told him once. "We're the only ones left around here.

We have to stick together, right?" By then, the way Julian looked at me had started to shift. The lines were getting blurry. I didn't know if he was catching on.

I spent three whole years burying my feelings in the dark.

If I saw a background actor on Netflix with his same first name, my eyes would lock onto the screen and my pulse would spike. But I never let the words slip past my teeth.

Chapter 5 Being in love with the guy who only saw me as "one of the bros" felt like swallowing a handful of crushed glass.

Whenever we shared a pizza, he'd always fight me for the crispiest slice of pepperoni right in the center. We both agreed it was the best part of the whole pie.

I'd reach for it, and he'd smack my hand away. "Why are you eating so much, Maeve? You're already built like a cardboard box.

If you gain weight, you'll just be a wider cardboard box." But he never pulled that crap with Vivienne. He treated her like spun glass.

She always got the best bite of whatever they were eating. The dead center of the watermelon? Always hers. Vivienne had these weird quirks.

She loved bacon cheeseburgers, but she despised pickles.

I watched it happen with my own eyes—the second her burger arrived, Julian would meticulously peel back the bun and pick out every single slice of pickle before handing it over to her.

That kind of hyperfocused gentleness was reserved strictly for her. Vivienne went to a university right here in the city too, over on the east side.

The guy she was making out with in her hospital room back then? He went to a college across the country. The long distance killed them. They broke up.

When Julian found out they split, his mood shot through the roof. He was usually incredibly cheap, but he actually dragged me to an allyoucaneat buffet and paid for both of us.

During that window, he cranked his devotion up to eleven.

To go see Vivienne, he'd transfer between two busted city buses in hundreddegree weather, practically passing out from heatstroke.

A pickpocket even swiped his wallet on the way once. But the second he saw his goddess, he just laughed it off. "No sweat, really." Meanwhile, when he came to see me?

If it rained and a passing car splashed a little puddle water on his sneakers, he’d aggressively shake his ridiculously long legs right in my face. "Look at this, Maeve!

This is all your fault! If I didn't come see you, my new kicks wouldn't be trashed. Vivienne loves it when I wear these." Yeah. Hilarious.

Eventually, grinding himself into the dirt paid off. At the start of our junior year of college, Julian and Vivienne officially started dating.

But Julian didn't even tell me himself. I had to hear it from our mutual friend, Aria. By the time I found out, they had already been together for over two weeks.

Aria stared at me, shocked. "No way, how did you not know? You and Julian are practically joined at the hip!" Yeah, I wondered the exact same thing.

Why wouldn't Julian instantly share the news with his best friend? This was his ultimate dream finally coming true.

The next time I saw him, I cornered him. "You finally bagged your dream girl.

Why wouldn't you tell your best bro so we could celebrate?" A flash of pure awkwardness crossed his face. But beneath it, something else flickered in his eyes.

Like he had a thousand words lodged in his throat but couldn't spit a single one out. His expression twisted into something incredibly complicated.

I didn't know what it meant, and honestly, I didn't want to know.

He scratched the back of his neck. "You know how girls have that rule about not announcing a pregnancy for the first three months because they don't want to jinx it?

I figured if I told people too early, I'd jinx this, too." What a garbage excuse. "Then why did you tell Aria?" "That was an accident.

It just slipped out." Dead silence settled between us. To break the suffocating tension, I forced a smirk, playing the part of the nosy friend. "So how did it actually happen?

Spill." Julian’s face instantly melted into this goofy, lovestruck grin. "One day she just looked at me and said she realized no one in the world treated her better than I did.

She said she wanted to be with me." Chapter 6 That was it? Just because she couldn't find anyone else who treated her better than you did? What about me? Look at me, Julian.

Even if you treated me like an afterthought. Even if you stole my pizza, conned me into doing your assignments, and laughed until you choked whenever I made an idiot out of myself.

Even if you ditched me on the side of the road midbite just because Vivienne texted you. I still loved you. You treated me like dirt, and I still loved you.

Why couldn't you just look at me?! I wasn't demanding he suddenly realize I was perfect. But the reason she gave him? It wasn't something to be proud of.

It was a pathetic return on his investment. I zoned out.

Julian waved a hand in front of my face. "You good?" That was the closest I ever came to just vomiting the truth right onto his shoes.

But the words burned the back of my throat, and I swallowed them down.

I shook my head. "Just tired." While Julian and Vivienne were in their honeymoon phase, I forced myself to pull back. I kept my distance.

But the second I stopped chasing him, he started blowing up my phone. Maeve, you dropped off the face of the earth. Are you secretly dating someone?

Are you worried you'll jinx the threemonth rule too? Screw you. Go baby your precious Vivienne and leave me alone. I typed the words out. Stared at the blinking cursor.

Then I held down the backspace key and typed out a safe, polite lie. "I’ve just been feeling a bit sick.

Sticking around the dorms." What kind of sickness keeps you locked in your room for two straight weeks without needing a hospital run? I had to make the lie bulletproof.

So I sent a followup text: "Neck pain." I've been hunched over my laptop too much writing. Back then, I was just starting to chase the delusion of becoming an author.

A few days later, Julian actually showed up on my campus. He didn't just show up. He brought a gift bag.

It was a heavyduty neck massager. "I was going to ship it straight to your dorm, but my thumb slipped and I autofilled my own address.

Here." He shoved the bag into my chest. "Take care of yourself, bigshot author.

If you ruin your posture, how are you ever going to become the next Colleen Hoover?" My fingers gripped the thick paper handles.

That was the very first time Julian had ever bought me a gift. It was supposed to be a light massager, but it felt like a concrete block sitting right on top of my ribs.

A suffocating, tangled mess of weight. But I was an expert at faking it. Even if a categoryfive hurricane was ripping through my chest, my face stayed numb.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't want to be Colleen Hoover. I want to be Jane Austen." Because Jane Austen was his favorite author. I didn't know if he caught the hidden meaning.

But his eyes suddenly softened. "Alright then, Maeve Austen. Why don't you write about me? Make me the male lead." Yes. The thought sparked like a match in the dark.

And I'll make myself the female lead. Right as that pathetic little spark flared to life, he killed it. "You can write the story of me and Vivienne.

Write about my long, epic journey of finally winning my girl." There was no softness. It was all a massive, stupid delusion.

When it came to twisting the knife directly into my ribs, he had spent years perfecting his technique. The air was sucked right out of my lungs.

I stared a hole through the glossy logo on the gift bag, refusing to look up at his face. We were standing right next to the street under a massive dogwood tree.

Clusters of white flowers hung heavy from the branches. A sudden gust of wind swept through, tearing a few loose.

One single, featherlight petal drifted down and smacked right against my forehead. It hurt like hell. The back of my throat burned like battery acid.

A single petal hit me, and my eyes stung so fiercely I thought I was going to crack in half. Chapter 7 During that time, Julian rarely shared any details about him and Vivienne.

I figured since he finally secured his ultimate dream girl and she was being treated like literal royalty, they were locked in for the long haul.

I didn't expect the plot twist to hit so fast. They broke up.

When they first got together, Vivienne had looked at him and said, "No one in the world treats me better than you do." When they ended it, she used the exact same line. "No one in the world treats me better than you do." Except, she tacked on a brutal second half. "But I'm sorry.

I tried, and I just can't force myself to fall for you." A breakup like that strips away half your soul. And Julian was already a pathetic romantic.

When I finally saw him, he looked like he could walk straight onto the set of a zombie movie without a drop of makeup.

I was still racking my brain for the right words to comfort him.

I never expected the first sentence out of his mouth when he looked up at me. "Maeve, you're in love with me, aren't you? Why don't we just date?" Julian knew I loved him.

He knew I'd fight him for the crispiest slice of pepperoni on a pizza, but I'd never touch the garlic butter crust—because the crust was his actual favorite, not the pepperoni.

He knew that back in high school, when he was failing English and desperately needed a specific outofprint study guide, I swallowed down killer period cramps and drove to three different zip codes just to find it for him.

He also knew that when he got into a massive blowout fight with Austin, I was the one pulling strings behind the scenes to force them to make up, because Austin was his best brother.

He knew everything. He dragged every single silent, pathetic sacrifice I had made for him out into the light, one by one. The history piled up between us, suffocating and heavy.

But my chest felt hollow. I stared directly into his bloodshot eyes. "So what are you trying to say? That no one in the world treats you better than I do?" Julian flinched.

He dropped his chin, refusing to meet my gaze. "I love you, Julian," I said. I finally ripped the secret I had buried for years out into the open.

I always thought if I ever said it, my voice would be shaking. I'd be sobbing. Because saying those words out loud usually meant it was time to pack up and leave. But honestly?

It wasn't even that hard. I didn't cry. I didn't smile. Once the words left my mouth, the hundredpound weight I had been dragging around just vanished.

Julian opened his mouth, desperately trying to formulate a response. I cut him off instantly. "I loved you. Past tense. I'm over it now." Was I lying in that exact second?

Even I didn't know. I just suddenly realized that whether my heart still skipped a beat for him or not didn't matter anymore.

The boy under the dogwood tree with white petals falling onto his shoulders was gone. The guy standing in front of me was a stranger.

He had learned how to settle for absolute scraps, but I still wanted to be the brave idiot charging forward in armor. That was how we ended up exactly where this story started.

Julian's untouchable goddess came crawling back. Chapter 8 The truth was, Vivienne didn’t dump Julian for any of those noble reasons she’d claimed.

It wasn't about "not being able to match his devotion" or "him deserving a better girl." That was all a load of crap. The real reason?

Her ex had given her a "we can make this work" wink, and she thought she had a shot at the big leagues again. So, Julian—the loyal backup—got tossed like yesterday’s trash.

But within days of getting back with her ex, Vivienne realized the guy was a total player. He was trying to run a "one girl in Florida, one girl in New York" scheme.

He was a textbook scumbag. Vivienne blocked him, her ego bruised and her heart shredded. Suddenly, she decided she wanted Julian’s brand of worship back.

That was right when Julian started breathing down my neck at my campus. He refused to admit he was just trying to use a new flame to cauterize an old wound.

He even fed me this beautifully scripted line. "Maeve, I don't want to be with you because you treat me best. I want to be the one who treats you best.

I want to spend my energy on you, not Vivienne." I could feel Julian spiraling. He didn't even know what he wanted anymore. He played the part of the obsessed suitor perfectly.

Even when Vivienne reached out, he acted like she was invisible.

I don't know what he said to her, but Vivienne became convinced that I was the only thing standing between her and her happy ending. She tracked me down in the school cafeteria.

It was the ultimate showdown: the fallen prom queen versus the nerd who spent her nights writing fanfic on Wattpad. She slapped me. Hard.

I watched my "male lead" haul off and crack his untouchable whitemoonlight ex across the face. It should have been a high.

It should have been the ultimate "eatglass" moment for her. But I couldn't even force a smile. Because I saw Julian’s hand.

After he hit her, he shoved his fist behind his back, but he couldn't stop the tremors. His whole body was vibrating. That wasn't rage.

His eyes were drowning in a sea of regret—the kind of gutwrenching pain I hadn't seen when my own cheek was burning from Vivienne’s palm.

Some things in this world are just out of reach. Even when you think you’re touching them, you’re just grasping at ghosts. What was never mine would never be mine.

Julian and I used to grab food together at this local drivein near campus. Since things got weird between us, I’d been going alone.

Luckily, the drivein had a "Mini Hot Dog Combo." Three small cheesechili dogs and all the crinklecut fries I could handle. It was the perfect "loserpartyofone" meal.

I was sitting there, elbowdeep in chili, the day after the cafeteria massacre. That was when I saw Griffin.

He was sitting at the table directly across from me, doing the exact same thing—the solo hot dog routine. I felt his eyes on me.

I figured he was staring because I looked good… maybe?

I straightened my spine, wiped a smear of mustard from my lip, and tried to look like a sophisticated author instead of a depressed student.

The waitress walked over and pointed at my chest. "Honey, you’ve got a piece of hot dog stuck in your hair." I looked down.

A chunk of meat, probably slick with my own spit, was tangled in the ends of my hair resting on my collarbone.

There were also three distinct grease spots blooming on my shirt. "The handsome guy across from you has been trying to signal you for five minutes," the waitress added. "You didn't see him?" Chapter 9 I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.

I scrambled to wipe the stray chunk of hot dog out of my hair. Glancing over at Griffin, he immediately looked away, burying his face in his meal.

I could have sworn I saw the corner of his mouth twitching. Was he laughing at me? Halfway through my food, Tyson walked in, trailing his cheerleader girlfriend, Sydney.

Most girls had beef with other girls in their cliques. Not me. My biggest enemy on campus was this exact fratboy douchebag.

The second Tyson spotted me, he threw a loud, overly sarcastic warning at his girlfriend. "Remember, Sydney.

Whatever you do in life, don't grow up to be a homewrecker." The guy was clearly an idiot. Sydney pinched his arm hard enough to make him yelp. "What the hell are you talking about?

Who's a homewrecker?" Tyson rubbed his arm, playing the victim. "Just some girl in my class. The actual girlfriend showed up at the cafeteria to tear her apart.

Dead center of the room. People were recording it and everything. Pathetic, right?" I took a slow sip of my Coke, unbothered. "Careful when you eat, Tyson.

Talk too much and you might choke on a jalapeño." "Oh, wow. You've got the energy to worry about my food?

Why don't you worry about your cheating boyfriend?" Tyson dropped into a booth, still running his mouth. I couldn't control the garbage coming out of his mouth. But karma?

Karma was terrifyingly real. Tyson took two massive bites of his spicy chili dog and started choking. His face instantly flushed a splotchy, dark red.

He bolted up, kicking his chair over, both hands flying to his throat. "Hhospital!" he gasped out. "Go!" The diner owner panicked, rushing over with a massive cup of ice water and aggressively slapping his back.

Nothing worked. Tyson was turning blue. The diner faced a busy intersection. Sydney sprinted outside to flag down a cab, but it was rush hour. The streets were jammed tight.

She ripped out her phone to call an Uber, but the surge wait time was insane. Sydney started crying. Right at that second, a black Uber pulled up to the curb.

Griffin calmly stood up, strolled to the door, and glanced back at the gasping frat boy and his panicking girlfriend. "That's my ride.

Want it?" Tyson looked at him like he was Jesus himself. He nodded frantically. Griffin leaned against the doorframe. "I waited forty minutes in the queue for this.

I'll transfer the ride to you for fifty bucks. Seems fair, right?" Wow. Extortion right in the middle of a medical emergency? My respect for this guy instantly skyrocketed.

I couldn't help but really look at him. He was tall, sharpjawed, and aggressively goodlooking.

Tyson looked like he wanted to punch a wall, but considering he was choking to death, he yanked a fiftydollar bill out of his wallet and shoved it at Griffin.

The second they sped off, Griffin walked up to the cashier, sliding the fifty across the counter. "I'm covering her tab." Unless I was completely hallucinating, his eyes were locked dead on me when he said it.

Griffin liked me. The very first day we met, he looked right at me and told me he liked me. If I wasn't so calm, I probably would have choked on my food too