Chapter Seven

Riley’s Pov

I had already written an entire script in my head explaining why Cole absolutely had to meet with me. Then I wrote another one as backup, just in case he refused. Which, honestly, felt highly likely considering yesterday he had thrown “No” at me in at least twelve different variations, like it was the only word available in his vocabulary.

During my very questionable research session, I’d done some digging on him and stumbled across a photo of Cole kissing another guy. The caption beneath it read:

Your golden boy Cole has never been seen in an intimate relationship with a girl because he’s into guys and takes advantage of them due to his position.

The whole thing felt intense.

I didn’t know Cole, not really, but the rumors didn’t line up with the kiss we shared. Not after the way he kissed me back. There had been nothing uncertain about it. Nothing forced either.

Still, maybe this worked in my favor.

If I pitched fake dating as something that could help redirect the rumors surrounding him, maybe he’d actually agree.

Honestly, I was shocked when he accepted to meet with me at all. Especially after spending all of yesterday acting like my existence was a software glitch he desperately wanted removed from his system.

Though he’d mentioned he had conditions. And somehow, I doubted they’d be worse than my proposal.

We agreed to meet at 4 p.m. since he apparently had “other things” to attend to. Which left me with a few hours to perfect a winning argument. Because telling my mom that he was sick or out of town would absolutely backfire.

She’d say something terrifyingly reasonable like:

“If he’s serious about school, he wouldn’t leave campus this long.”

Or worse:

“If he’s sick, then I should visit him.”

Exactly the kind of sentence capable of ruining my life. My entire future was balancing on this disaster. I couldn’t afford to mess it up. Speaking of my future, I checked my email again for what had to be the ninety-ninth time since festival night.

Still nothing.

No callback. No rejection. Nothing. At this point, silence somehow felt worse.

I needed to stop thinking before my brain combusted, so I decided to visit the pet store across town. Because honestly, what better therapy existed than surrounding yourself with tiny fluffy creatures incapable of emotional betrayal?

---

“Riles, you’re here!” Rose, the owner of the pet store, called the moment I stepped inside.

I smiled automatically.

This place had become something of a safe haven over the years. Whenever everything felt too loud or overwhelming, I’d come help out around the shop.

I first found it during freshman year after getting stranded during a camping trip disaster. I’d gotten separated from the group without my phone, wallet, or dignity. Rose had let me in from the freezing cold, wrapped me in one of her oversized coats, made me hot chocolate, and even gave me transport fare back to campus.

Turns out my friends had already gone back to the dorms hours earlier… with all my belongings.

I still hadn’t forgiven them for that.

Warm air curled around me now, carrying the smell of dry pet food, cedar shavings, grain, and faint animal musk. Somewhere deeper in the shop, puppies barked excitedly while birds chirped from hanging cages overhead.

The shelves looked delightfully chaotic. Pet toys hung crookedly from hooks. Leashes tangled together like abandoned Christmas lights. Bags of food leaned dangerously in uneven towers.

“You’re God-sent, Riles,” Rose beamed. “I really need a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, my part-timer couldn’t make it today, and I need to step out for a bit. The dogs and cats still need feeding, and their cages need cleaning. Think you can help?”

I checked the time on my phone. A few minutes past noon. I should still make it back before meeting Cole.

“Of course,” I smiled. “But I need to leave before four. I have an appointment.”

“Perfect. And if I’m not back by then, just lock up for me.”

Simple enough. Except it absolutely wasn’t.

Because letting the dogs out before cleaning their cages turned out to be the worst decision I’d made all week, and considering my life lately, that was saying something.

The second I opened the gates, chaos exploded. One bolted toward the toy aisle. Another knocked over a display. Two more started wrestling in the middle of the store like furry little demons possessed by destruction itself.

By the time I finally got them settled again, my hair was sticking to my forehead, my shirt had paw prints on it, and I was pretty sure one of them had attempted murder via enthusiastic jumping.

How Rose made this look effortless remained a mystery. Okay, maybe I also spent a little too much time playing with them instead of actually working. Minor detail. When I finally checked my phone again, my stomach dropped.

3:50 p.m.

“What the hell?!”

I grabbed my bag so fast I nearly knocked over a basket of chew toys. After locking the shop, I flagged down a cab and spent the entire ride internally screaming at traffic.

By the time I reached campus, I still had to sprint across school just to make it to the café. I stopped at least five times on the way there trying not to collapse from lack of oxygen. I seriously lacked stamina.

Panting heavily, I burst through the café doors and scanned the crowd desperately for Cole, praying he hadn’t left yet.

My heart sank when I didn’t see him immediately. Then I spotted him. Last booth in the corner. Of course he picked the most isolated seat in the entire café.

He sat perfectly still except for the steady tapping of his fingers against the table beside his wristwatch. His blond hair had fallen slightly over his eyes, and for the first time, I could really see the resemblance between him and Tyler.

Except where Tyler was expressive chaos, Cole looked controlled. Sharp-edged. Quiet in a way that felt intentional. He wore another black hoodie. At this point, I was beginning to suspect the man owned nothing else.

Maybe he sensed me staring, or maybe he’d simply grown impatient waiting for me, because his eyes lifted and landed directly on mine.

Cold. Assessing. Unreadable. He straightened slightly as I hurried toward him.

“You’re late,” he said casually once I reached the booth. “Half an hour late.”

Like he was simply stating a statistical fact.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed out, still trying to recover from near cardiac arrest as I slid into the seat across from him.

Then I noticed the milkshake sitting in front of me. The exact order I’d gotten yesterday. I blinked at it before looking back up at him.

“I ordered it when I got here,” he said without meeting my eyes. “It’s probably warm now.”

Something strangely soft flickered in my chest.

“Thank you.”

I signaled the waiter over immediately because after running across campus, I needed something freezing cold before my soul physically exited my body. The waiter approached with a grin.

“Oh, your date is finally here.”

I nearly choked on air. Not even water. Just oxygen. Beside me, Cole didn’t react at all. The waiter glanced between us like he wanted gossip but valued his paycheck too much to ask questions.

I quickly corrected the misunderstanding before placing my order. Which felt wildly ironic considering I was literally here to ask Cole to fake date me. Once the waiter left, silence settled over the table again.

Awkward. Painfully awkward.

Then Cole reached into his bag and pulled out a large envelope, sliding it across the table toward me.

“I’ll agree to being your fake boyfriend,” he said calmly, “but on my terms.”

I stared at the envelope suspiciously before opening it. Inside was a printed contract. An actual contract. For fake dating. I looked back up at him slowly.

“You made a contract?”

“You came to me with a proposal,” he replied evenly. “I prefer structure.”

Of course he did.

I looked back down and started reading.

Cole determines when the agreement ends.

Their private lives remain separate from the relationship.

No emotional attachment.

Neither party may publicly contradict the relationship narrative.

Tyler Donovan acts as witness to the agreement.

Public appearances together must remain believable when necessary.

The contract remains confidential.

Reasonable. Mostly. Then I reached the final condition. The festival kiss video will be uploaded publicly. I stared at the line.Then at him.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Aren’t jokes supposed to be funny?” he deadpanned.

I dropped the papers dramatically onto the table.

“Do you know putting that video online would complicate everything?”

He nodded once, unfazed.

“I considered that.”

“And?”

“And it creates a conflict that’s easier to control.”

“People stop seeing me as an actress and start seeing me as some girl who kissed a stranger backstage for attention. The audition panel already takes professionalism seriously. If this turns into campus entertainment, I’m done before I even get a callback” I argued.

“Starting a relationship without any visible history raises suspicion. The video creates continuity. People are more likely to believe the relationship is genuine rather than reactive damage control.” He stated plainly.

No. No. Absolutely not. This couldn’t be happening.

“You said you’d do anything if I agreed to your proposal,” he reminded me calmly.

Right. I had said that. Unfortunately.

“I’d do almost anything,” I tried negotiating. “Literally anything else.”

For the first time since I met him, something close to amusement crossed his face.

A small smirk. Quick and dangerous. Far too similar to Tyler’s. Like he’d already anticipated my answer.

“Well,” he said as he picked up his bag, “those are my terms.”

Then he stood. Just like that.

“Think about it,” he added. “If you agree, send me the location and time for lunch. I’ll be there.”

And then he walked away like he hadn’t just dropped an active grenade into my life. I stared at the contract in horror.

Because somehow, against all logic, I was actually considering signing it, even when I could see a hundred and one ways this could go wrong.