Chapter 1

“Free Phillian Zodiac!”

Phillian shot up from where he was sprawled across the bleachers, jolted by the familiar yell of his best friend, Deewee. Marching toward him was Deewee himself, a piping hot pizza box in hand, and trailing behind him was their other buddy, Jeff, gripping a plastic liter of soda. That was their lunch for today—right there on the university sports field.

Phillian straightened and waited as they got closer.

Deewee was grinning from ear to ear, suspiciously pleased with himself. Which was weird. Deewee was normally the serious one—perpetually scowling, perpetually judging. The guy had been his friend since high school, though back then, it wasn’t exactly by choice. His mother had begged him to befriend the kid.

Deewee was from the same hometown—La Asteria. Their mothers were friends, and by some twist of fate, he and Deewee landed in the same class their freshman year.

At thirteen, Deewee had stood four-foot-nine and tipped the scales thanks to an addiction to sugary juices and sweets. Naturally, the school bullies flocked to him. At first, Phillian hadn’t cared. He’d known Deewee since elementary school and always thought he was an antisocial snob anyway.

But one night, he’d casually mentioned Deewee’s school troubles to his mom, and she’d laid down the law: “Be his friend.”

Reluctantly, he did. He defended Deewee from a group of bullies one day, and since then, Deewee had been stuck to him like duct tape.

To be fair, Deewee had proven to be a ride-or-die friend ever since. Whatever he had, he shared—especially with Phillian and Jeff. He was good to them, but to everyone else? A different beast entirely.

“Your Majesty, your feast has arrived,” Deewee deadpanned, plopping down beside Phillian and dumping the still-warm pizza box on his lap.

“What’s with that ridiculous grin? Your gums are practically waving hello.”

“I scored a discount. Saved a hundred bucks.”

“Nice.” Phillian cracked open the box and untied the string. “Only two slices for you, though.”

“Hey, I paid for that—”

“And aren’t you supposed to be cutting back?”

Deewee scowled but shut up.

Phillian smirked. His friend had finally, finally started dieting—his mother’s one condition before letting him spend the holidays in Canada. Deewee’s mom, a nurse, had been living there for two years now, and Deewee had been itching to visit the great freezing north.

“You’ve barely been dieting a month and you’re already caving, man?” Jeff chimed in as he flopped down next to Deewee, set the soda on the ground, and peeled off his uniform polo.

From across the field, the girls on the opposite bleachers elbowed and whispered as they shamelessly ogled.

Out of the three of them, Jeff was the ladies’ man. He attracted women like bees to freshly bloomed flowers. And why wouldn’t he? Jeff San Ismael stood a clean six feet tall, was captain of the basketball team, and had the kind of rugged good looks that could make Jason Statham rethink his career. Every day, a different girl was on his arm—or in his bed. When the three of them hung out together, Jeff always sparkled like a diamond, while Phillian and Deewee were just the dust swirling around him.

Oh well. Phillian knew he wasn’t exactly chopped liver either. He had an athlete’s body—not quite as cut as Jeff’s, but good enough. He was only two inches shorter, anyway.

The problem? His pale skin, his teeth retainer, and the freckles sprinkled across his nose. A trifecta of turn-offs, apparently.

Sure, some girls still showed interest. And sometimes, he flirted back, maybe even asked them out. He wanted a girlfriend—badly. He was already twenty and had zero relationship experience. Jeff had been teasing him mercilessly to finally ditch his V-card.

Damn it. Twenty years old and still hadn’t been in bed with a woman. Not because he was some upstanding saint, though—he was open to premarital sex like most guys his age. But only with someone he actually liked. He wasn’t into meaningless hookups.

His problem? He was picky. Too picky. Every girl he took out bored him stiff. All pretty faces, no personalities. He couldn’t stand it.

“Did you really need to strip down, you overgrown tree?” Deewee snapped, snapping Phillian out of his thoughts.

“You’re just jealous you can’t show off your body like this,” Jeff shot back, snatching the pizza box from Phillian’s lap.

Deewee scoffed. “Just you wait, kapre. Once I shed the pounds, you’ll be the first to see my chiseled body.”

“Gross, bro,” Jeff quipped, popping open the box. The first thing that greeted them was the glorious sight of bubbling, molten cheese. The pizza joint was right across the street—fresh out of the oven.

Deewee opened his mouth for another jab, but Phillian clapped a hand on his shoulder. “He’s just messing with you. Use it as motivation. And yeah—when the day comes that you’ve slimmed down, Jeff gets the grand reveal first.”

“You bet I will,” Deewee smirked, making Jeff snort out a laugh.

They all dove into the pizza, and Phillian snagged a slice for himself.

They were down to the last few bites when Deewee piped up again.

“Hey, giraffe. What’s the deal with that dating service agent who talked to you the other day? You goin’ for it?”

“Dating service?” Phillian echoed, glancing at Jeff— who nearly choked.

Jeff fumbled with the soda, cracked it open, and chugged. After wiping his mouth, he finally faced them.

“Yeah, some guy offered me a gig as an escort for a dating service.”

“Escort?”

“Yep. As in, women pay me to date them.”

He blinked. He thought that only happened in movies.

“Exactly,” Deewee cut in, polishing off his slice before continuing. “The other day, just after we left town, this giraffe and I bumped into this agent from a dating service company. Said Jeff here was ‘qualified’ and handed him a business card.”

“No funny business, guys,” Jeff clarified. “The gig’s just to accompany women to fancy dinners or wherever else they want to go. Like normal dates. The contract even says no ‘special services’—if you catch my drift.”

“Yeah, right,” Deewee snorted, snatching the soda bottle and taking a swig.

“Well, before any meet-up, the ‘service provider’ and client both sign an online contract. No sex after service, time limits, all clear-cut. Whatever’s agreed on gets followed.”

“Wait—” Phillian narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me you called the agent to ask all this?”

Jeff opened his mouth, but Deewee beat him to it. “Of course he did! None of that was mentioned when we first talked to the guy.”

Jeff grinned. “I need extra cash. I’m planning to move out of my folks’ place.”

Technically, Jeff’s family had already set him up with an apartment, but he and his dad were like oil and water. Jeff’s pride wouldn’t let him take anything from the old man. That was the only reason Phillian could see why Jeff was even considering the offer.

Phillian sighed and swiped the soda from Deewee. “As long as it won’t ruin you or trash your dignity, go for it.”

“Nah, I’m not crossing any lines, Phil,” Jeff said, his tone sobering. He rested his elbows on the back of the bleacher and gazed at the sky. “I’ll stick to dinner dates and bar hopping. I’m not selling sex.”

Phillian and Deewee exchanged a look and shrugged.

“But hey, if the client’s hot…” Jeff’s grin returned as he turned back to them. “If she wants it, I’m not saying no. I just won’t charge for it.”

Deewee grimaced—just as expected—and got to his feet, slinging his bag over one shoulder. “When it comes to women, this giraffe really has got no brakes.”

“You’re just jealous,” Jeff shot back, grinning as he started clearing away the pizza box and the packets of sauce scattered around their feet beneath the bleachers.

He tore his gaze away from his friend and shifted it toward the field, where the soccer team was deep in training. He raised the bottle of soda to his lips and took a long swig, and as he drank, his mind started wandering.

There really were women out there who had to pay men just to score a date.

Were they lonely?

Was it practice for the real thing?

Were they just desperate to have a man in their lives?

What exactly was going on in their heads?

He couldn’t help but wonder.

But then a thought slammed into him hard—and froze him on the spot.

Wait a second…

What if the women signing up for this dating service Jeff was joining were… older?

Widows? Or women whose husbands no longer gave them the time of day—no attention, no appreciation?

Before he could stop himself, he spat out a spray of soda in shock, making Jeff jump and Deewee whip his head toward him in surprise.

Eyes wide, he turned to his friends. “Dude… what if the customers of that dating service are, like, older women?”

Jeff froze for a second—then burst out laughing. Deewee stared at him, dumbfounded, until he finally caught his breath and spoke.

“Before an ‘escort’ agrees to anything, they get all the details about the person they’ll be meeting. They’ll know exactly who they’re going out with, so chill. I might be a risk-taker, but I’m not that desperate.”

Well… that was a relief.

“You sure you don’t wanna sign up too, Free?” Deewee asked, clearly egging him on.

He smirked and got to his feet, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and snapping the cap back onto the soda bottle before tossing it at Deewee.

“My dad would hang me upside down and my siblings would laugh at me straight into next year if I pulled something like that, Dee. You know my family.”

“Well, if no one finds out… why not?” Jeff chimed in, a spark of mischief lighting up in his eyes as if he’d just stumbled on a brilliant idea.

“I’m not about to snitch, so no one’s gonna know,” Deewee added smoothly.

He shrugged the bag off his shoulder and chucked it at Deewee next. “Don’t push it. Ain’t happening.”

*

*

*

The loud blare of an alarm jerked Phillian awake. He groaned and, eyes still shut, fumbled across his bedside table to kill the noise. His hand landed exactly where it needed to—he didn’t need to look to find it.

A second later, he smacked the switch off.

The noise kept going.

He let out another grunt, longer this time.

It wasn’t the alarm clock. His phone was ringing. Someone was calling him. He shoved his hand under the pillow, dug out the phone, and cracked one eye open just enough to see who was blowing up his line and what time it was.

Jeff calling...

8:30 PM.

“What the hell,” he muttered, dropping his arm, phone still in hand.

He’d been asleep for maybe half an hour. He needed to be up early tomorrow to head back to La Asteria— one of his siblings had a birthday and the old man had ordered everyone to show up. No excuses.

He let the phone ring. Jeff could wear himself out.

But something itched at the back of his brain.

Jeff never called him unless it was serious. Or bad.

His eyes snapped open. He sat up fast. Just as the phone stopped ringing.

He stared at the screen. Then it rang again. Same number.

He answered.

“What?”

“I’m screwed, dude. I need you.”

“What now?”

“I double-booked today. First date was supposed to end by seven, but she had a freak allergy attack and I had to rush her to the hospital. I’m stuck here. My next date’s at nine.”

Phillian’s chest dropped. He already knew where this was going. And he didn’t like it.

“I need you to take the date for me. Just pretend you’re Jefferson— that’s the name I use. I’ll send you the details.”

The line went dead right after.

“Bullshit. I’m not going anywhere.”

He called Jeff back. No answer. He swore, hard and fast, until a new notification popped up.

Jeff had sent him an email.

He swore again and yanked it open. Straight away, it was a full dump of the next client’s details.

Name: Tasty Cake

Tasty Cake? What kind of parent slaps their kid with a name like that?

He kept reading, even though he told himself he wasn’t doing this.

Age: 18

Of course. Barely legal and already signing up for crap like this.

He didn’t know why he was still scrolling. He wasn’t going. If he was going on a date, it’d be with someone he actually wanted to see. Not this random girl.

Reason: "I just want to feel supported, even for one night."

Huh.

That was new. He hadn’t realized Jeff’s clients actually shared reasons.

Seems normal enough…

Maybe even... a little sad.

He exhaled hard and was about to close the email when a text from Jeff landed.

I signed the contract for Tasty Cake. If I bail, they’ll fine me three times what she paid. Do me a solid, dude. I’ll cover your dorm rent this month. All you gotta do is show up, have dinner, and go with the flow. Good luck.

Phillian dragged a hand down his face and blew out a long, tired breath. He lay back down, arms stretched wide, eyes on the ceiling. Let himself sit in the silence for a minute.

Then he sighed again, pushed off the bed, and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

“You owe me this one, Jeff. You absolute asshole.”