Chapter 3

Emilie

I'm not stupid. I know Brandon giving me a roof over my head was a one-time thing; it doesn't make us friends. Once I've left his house, he will go back to hanging out with the jocks and calling me a nerd. I'm convinced the mere thought of me disgusts him, which is why I'm so confused when I wake up to him hugging me.  

What is even happening right now?

Brandon isn't squeezing me so tight that I can't breathe, but all his limbs are wrapped around me. I'm cocooned by him and so much smaller than his brutish self that I cannot escape. His nose is in my hair, while his muscular arms hold me so gently that one could think we were lovers. 

I...I don't hate it. 

I've never had a boyfriend before, and while I know Brandon isn't interested in me, I like the size difference between us. It feels safe being the small spoon with such a large man behind me, and he is fucking gorgeous. No sane girl on campus who isn't a lesbian would say no to spooning with him. 

But...I should probably try to get away from him. If we stay like this until Brandon wakes up, he will most likely wake up pissed and blame this on me somehow. And I don't want that.

With slow movements, I try to escape. It's a treacherous operation, almost as if I'm defusing a bomb: one tiny mistake, one abrupt movement, and it could all blow up in my face. Yet, despite the fear in my chest, I manage to sit up on my heels. 

"Emilie?"

Shit!

Brandon stirs, and I almost fall off the couch before he shoots out an arm behind my back to catch me. He is so strong that he easily keeps his arm in the air, with me leaning my entire weight against it. 

"What the fuck are you doing?"

I wince at his tone and turn my head to the left, gulping when I see Brandon's irritated expression. 

"Were you just going to...throw yourself on the floor?" he squints at me.

He looks really scary, but somehow, I find my voice, "N-no, I was just...trying to get to the bathroom."

He keeps squinting at me but eventually sighs and pushes his other arm underneath my legs. It all happens so fast. One second, I'm leaning against his arm, and in the other, I'm cradled to his chest like a princess as he stands up from the couch. 

The fact that he can pick me up so easily is hot, and I blush. I'm dangerously attracted to him, but I'm also afraid of him—I'm so confused that it's not funny. 

"You're really clumsy," Brandon mutters as he helps me to my feet. Once I'm standing beside him, he yawns. "The bathroom is down the hall. Try not to break anything."

I nod and pad forward. I didn't lie about needing the bathroom. I'm the type of woman that needs to pee as soon as she wakes up. It's annoying, but I feel much better when I'm done. 

When I leave the bathroom, I hear Brandon scrambling in what I assume must be the kitchen. It's not the largest house, but it's definitely luxurious. Did Brandon's parents buy him this house for his studies?

"Do you eat bacon?"

I stop in my tracks at the sight before me. Brandon is only wearing his boxers, and even though we slept together, I'm still shocked seeing every rippling muscle on his body. 

And just like clockwork, something inside of me blossoms under the full force of his attention. A craving for more attention, skin-to-skin contact, and maybe a real kiss? Fortunately, I'm not stupid enough to believe we could be more than strangers.

Developing a crush on this man is a loser's game.

"Bacon sounds good," I hand him a shy smile. "Do you need my help with anything?"

"No," he turns back to the food, cursing when the bacon pops and oil lands on his abs. "Fucking shit!"

I can't help it—I snort before noticing a hoodie hanging over one of the chairs. I immediately grab it. "Here, wear this."

Brandon doesn't argue. He puts down the spatula but glares at me as he slips into the hoodie. "Don't look so amused. Anyone can make the mistake of cooking bacon without clothes on."

I doubt that. Only an idiot would put bacon in a frying pan and stand so close to it without wearing a shirt. But...I won't tell him that. The last thing I want is to miss out on free food. 

So, I remain silent and take the liberty of collecting cheese and butter from the fridge. Brandon doesn't seem to mind. He is plating eggs and bacon for us, and I jump when bread jumps out of the toaster. 

"Just sit down," Brandon says. "I got this."

I sit down and watch as Brandon moves around his kitchen. He slaps the butter and cheese on top of the freshly toasted bread before laying two strips of bacon and a mound of scrambled eggs atop each slice.

"Here," he says, sliding a plate in my direction. 

"Th-thanks."

He nods. "Coffee or juice?"

"Coffee."

A mug appears within seconds, causing a flutter in my heart. I'm not used to being treated like this. I honestly feel like a princess being served by one of her butlers—a very handsome one. 

Brandon lets out a deep sigh as he takes his seat. "That girl you talked about yesterday...Jenna, was it?"

"Y-yeah?"

"What are you going to do about her?"

"E-excuse me?"

He finally lifts his eyes from his food to glare at me. "I'm talking about revenge, Charlotte! What are you going to do?!"

"M-my name is Emelie..."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever...all I'm saying is that you can't let those cunts get away with this. You could have died—you get that, right? If I hadn't been so kind to let you sleep on my couch, you probably would have frozen to death."

My stomach churns. 

I know Brandon is right - I could have died - but there isn't anything I can do. How am I supposed to get revenge on Jenna and her gang? They are four people while I'm just...me. 

"I...I don't want to be a loser anymore..." I don't know where I'm going with this, and I sink my teeth into my lower lip until it hurts.

Brandon sighs. "That's a tough one to fix. You're the biggest loser I know of, but...you could date me. I can also pay for a makeover and give you a new wardrobe—the other girls would be so jealous."

"Uhh...and why would you do that for me?" I stammer. 

"Because there isn't a single girl on campus worthy of my beauty, yet they keep asking me out. But if I'm taken, they will keep their ratty fingers away from me. Do you know how many suits I had to wash last week because I kept getting groped?

Brandon looks at me as if searching for a response. When I just lamely stare at him, he sighs. 

"I play football, and my family is rich—the girls have been throwing themselves over me since middle school, but I'm tired of it, you know? This year, I just want to focus on my studies."

"Your studies?" I ask after miraculously finding my voice. "Y-you don't want to focus on the football?"

"Nah, it's a fun hobby, and I love the other guys. We are like one big family, but I dream of taking over the family company."

I wet my lips. "I...I see..." 

"Anyway," he locks eyes with me. "You're my fake girlfriend now. We will change your image until you're no longer bullied, and then we will find a way to get revenge on Jenna."

I have no idea why Brandon is so adamant about helping me. Sure, he gave me his reason, but I'm still unconvinced...not that I care. I'm just happy because it feels like I'm not alone for the first time in my life. 

My lips form a bashful smile. "Okay."