He shrugs. “Guess I like doing insane things.”
I look back down, the golden logo on the ticket glinting under his room lights and my brain’s short-circuiting. The Network Collective. It’s the biggest annual business conference in Chicago and every business major dreams of attending because it’s where CEOs, founders, and investors come to scout top students. Basically, the Met Gala for overachievers.
I’ve been obsessed with it since freshman year, but the tickets kept getting more ridiculous. They started at five grand, then seven and this year, it’s practically ten. Ten thousand dollars for a chance to breathe the same air as billionaires and somehow, I’m holding two tickets.
“This is like… a dream,” I whisper, still staring at them. My throat tightens as I look up at Braydon, who’s now watching me with that stupidly soft expression he tries to hide.
“How did you get this?” I ask, pouting slightly.
He crosses his arms and tilts his head. “I have my ways.”
“Braydon,” I press, narrowing my eyes. “You don’t come across as someone who likes business events.”
He shrugs, crossing one foot over the other. “Let’s just say I came up with an unconventional date plan for my very nerdy, fake girlfriend.”
I squeak and before my brain catches up, I’ve already thrown myself at him. I wrap my arms around his neck as I hug him tight, practically bouncing in place. “Thank you so much. Thank you.”
He laughs softly, his voice muffled against my hair. “Are you that happy?”
I pull back just enough to meet his eyes, brushing my hair behind my ear. “I’ve literally wanted to attend this since freshman year. I’ve watched every livestream, stalked every panel online. This is, like, dream-level stuff.”
He nods. “Well, then, you better start picking out an outfit because it’s in three weeks.”
“Oh my gosh!” I squeal, hugging him again. “You’re actually the best, Braydon!”
When he pulls back, his hands rest lightly on my waist as he tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Then maybe I should get some kind of… tax.”
I blink. “Tax?”
“Boyfriend tax,” he clarifies, tapping his chin and pretending to think. “You know, like a kiss on the cheek or something. It’s only fair.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
But I still lean in and give him a quick peck.
He raises a brow. “That was too fast.”
I bite back a smile and do it again and again until he suddenly turns his head and my lips brush against his unexpectedly.
I stop.
The air shifts immediately, and my pulse skips. Slowly, I pull away, my hand flying to scratch the back of my neck.
I don’t even need to look up to know he’s smirking. I can feel it radiating off him.
“Let’s, um…” I mumble. “Go over some topics. I have an hour.”
He moves to the bed, tapping the space beside him. “Sit.”
The way his lips twitch tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Rolling my eyes, I walk to the other side of the bed and sit down, putting a safe distance between us. I pull out my textbook and start flipping through the pages. He watches me for a second, clearly amused, before mirroring my moves, grabbing his own textbook and pretending to be serious.
“Page 142,” I say.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.
For the next hour, we actually manage to study. Well, mostly. Braydon pays more attention than usual, though he keeps throwing in random, ridiculous questions just to make me laugh. At one point, he asks if corporate finance could be applied to running a lemonade stand, and somehow, I spend five minutes explaining profit margins before realizing he’s just teasing me again.
By the end, I quiz him on ten questions. He gets seven right, an actual improvement compared to last time.
“Not bad,” I say as I pack up my notes.
He stretches, grinning. “So basically, I’m a genius now.”
“Sure,” I deadpan. “Real genius.”
He laughs as we head out and when we reach his car, I glance at him. “You’ll be coming with me, right?”
He looks up. “To?”
“The conference,” I say. “You didn’t just get me the tickets, right?”
He slides a look at me from the comer of his eye, a teasing glint there. “Are you that desperate to have me around you?”
I scoff. “Please. I just don’t want you to miss out on the fun.”
He gives me a disbelieving stare. “Fun? You call a conference fun? Peach, are you sure you’re okay?”
I roll my eyes at him, tugging his car door open. “So what do you even call fun then? Loud parties? Drugs?*
He slides into the driver’s seat, shooting me a look Eke I just insulted his religion. “Anything but a conference,” he says, pure disgust in his tone. “Seriously, you’re like an alien.*
My eyes widen. “For what? Being excited about the conference?” I throw my hands up. “God forbid a girl wants a career after college and maybe, I don’t know, network?”
He shakes his head slowly. “It’s not just that.”
“Then what?” I lift a brow, waiting.
Instead of answering, he leans toward me suddenly. The move is so fast I instinctively jerk back, pressing a finger to his forehead to push him away when he gets a little too close.
“Personal space, Braydon,” I warn.
He straightens, and exhales. “You see, you just proved my point.”
My brows knit together. “What point?”
He licks his lips, gesturing with his hands.
“First, you ask me to be your fake boyfriend,” he starts, counting on his fingers. “Then you to, you know, he with your… experience gap.”
Heat rust to my face, but I manage to keep a straight expression.
We kiss, we mess around, and for a second I think maybe you’re loosening up but fre back to being Katy Evans, looking at me like I’m a wall decoration.”
I stare at him with nothing but pure disbelief. Does he even hear himself sometimes? Does he not feel even a little embarrassed saying things like that? The arrogance is unreal.
I let out a long breath, click my seatbelt into place, and give him a flat look. “Please drive before I call campus cab.”
He studies me for a second, like he’s trying to read a language he doesn’t understand. Then he shakes his head, muttering mostly to himself, “I just can’t figure you out.”
BRAYDON’S POV
I’m actually losing my mind.
No really, there’s no other explanation because why can’t I stop thinking about last night with Katy?
And no, it’s not about the stupid pecks on the chin or anything like that. It’s her face…those big, bright eyes when she got all excited.
Fuck, I sound insane.
It’s not like I haven’t seen a girl excited before but something about Katy just sticks in my head like a bad song. Maybe it’s because she’s Justin’s sister. Yeah, that has to be it. I probably just see her as this tiny, fragile bird I need to protect. It’s definitely a brotherly thing….I think.
Damn it, Braydon, pull yourself together.
I’m leaning against the wall, running that same thought loop in my head for the twentieth time, when a voice yanks me back to reality. “What are you doing here?”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.