4. Amelia

Amelia

Ding!

Asshole Griffin: Fifteen minutes. Lecture hall.

I stare at the text. Then at the half-eaten meat pie in my hand. Then back at the text.

Seriously? This slave-driving idiot can't even let me enjoy my meat pie in peace?

"I'm off." I shove the rest of the pie into my tote bag and slide out of the booth.

"To your maid job?" Janet asks, already laughing.

Garrett joins her.

I narrow my eyes at both of them. "It's not funny."

That only makes them laugh harder.

"Bye, traitors."

I grab my bag and leave before they can say anything else.

Fucking Everett Griffin. He hasn't given me a moment's peace since Monday, and I'm beginning to think he actually enjoys this. Following me around campus yelling "Hart!" every five minutes wasn't enough. Now the whole school knows I'm the personal maid of Gladdis' men's volleyball captain.

How beautiful. My dignity is currently somewhere in a ditch.

I've tied his shoelaces because his hands were full. Wiped down volleyballs. Kept score during scrimmages, which, unfortunately, I actually enjoy.

Don't judge me.

At this point, I've done everything short of washing his ass. And I don't even have time for my Queen anymore.

Gosh. I want to die.

The only thing keeping me going is that it's Thursday. Two more days. Less than forty-eight hours and this ridiculous deal is over.

I can survive forty-eight hours. I can.

With that thought, I smile. Freedom is close.

I kiss Janet on the cheek before heading out.

"Bye, G."

"Bye, maid!" Garrett calls after me.

I flip him off without turning around.

I'm going to miss these idiots.

Probably.

I make it to the lecture hall six minutes late. Everett is waiting outside.

Of course he is.

"You're six minutes late."

I stop in front of him, slightly out of breath. "But I'm here now, aren't I?"

He gives me a look. I give him one right back. Then he turns and walks inside, and I roll my eyes and follow.

We barely make it through the doors before a blonde girl hurries toward us.

"Hey, Everett."

He doesn't even look up from his phone.

"There's a party tomorrow night. You coming?"

"No."

She laughs like he's joking. "Come on. It'll be fun."

"I've got practice."

"Practice ends at six."

"I still said no."

"But..."

"Hart."

His head snaps toward me.

I blink. "Yeah?"

"Keep up."

Then he walks away, and I stare after him for a second. What the hell?

When I look back, the blonde girl is still standing there, and judging by her face, she's not thrilled.

I hurry after him.

That was the eighth time. Eight. In four days. Girls approach Everett, Everett rejects them, end of story. It's actually getting weird.

We take our usual seats in Professional Ethics beside the boys.

"Hi, maid." Spencer grins at me.

I smile back. "Hi, gardener."

He laughs, and just like that, I'm reminded of another thing I apparently got wrong about these guys. They're not assholes. Well, Spencer definitely is, but he's funny. Cole is funny too. Harper is quieter, but he's cool.

Somehow, they've gone from people I couldn't stand to people I see almost every day. It's weird how quickly that happens. One minute, you can't imagine willingly sitting beside someone. The next, they're part of your routine.

Mr. George, Professor Carter's TA, walks in, and the room settles. My attention immediately shifts.

Oh. My. God.

"He's so handsome," I whisper.

Everett glances at me. I don't notice. I'm too busy staring at Mr. George. Why did the university have to hire a man who looks like he belongs in a cologne commercial?

I've had a crush on him since the first day I saw him.

Not that my love life has given me much to work with lately. Three relationships, that's it. The first was in high school, and I broke up with him because he was... too good. Yes, I know how ridiculous that sounds. The second cheated on me. The third was the only guy I've ever slept with, and yes, it was very, very enjoyable. Unfortunately, that relationship didn't work out either.

So here I am. Single. Bored. Staring at a hot TA.

"He's thirty."

The voice beside me pulls me out of my thoughts. I turn slowly.

"Excuse me?"

Everett is looking at the front of the room. "Mr. George. He's thirty."

"He's twenty-six."

"Too old."

I scoff. "Says the twenty-one-year-old grandpa."

He doesn't answer, and I turn back to the front, assuming that's the end of it.

It's not.

A few seconds later, Everett leans closer. "Six o'clock."

I glance at him. "Six o'clock what?"

"You're cooking dinner at my place."

I blink. "Tonight."

"What?"

He finally looks at me. "You heard me."

My mouth drops open.

"You're cooking dinner at my place tonight, Hart."

"What?!"

I shoot to my feet. Every head in the lecture hall turns.

Oh, shit.

Mr. George stops mid-sentence. "Yes, Ms. Hayes?"

I freeze.

"You want to answer the question?"

"What question?"

A few people laugh.

Fantastic.

Mr. George adjusts his glasses. "I asked whether promises made under pressure are morally binding. Do you have an opinion?"

My brain goes completely blank. I look at Everett. The bastard is trying not to smile.

I hate him.

"I..." Nothing. Absolutely nothing. "I suppose it depends on the circumstances?"

Mr. George nods. "Good. Anyone care to expand on that?"

"To add to my girlfriend's point..."

My head whips toward Everett.

Girlfriend?

The lecture hall erupts. Gasps. Whispers. Someone actually says, "What?"

My heart slams against my ribs. Did this man just...

Everett doesn't even look at me. Cole is biting his fist. Harper looks like he's about to pull out his phone. And Spencer? Spencer is practically dying beside us.

I stare at Everett. He's completely calm, like he didn't just casually announce to an entire lecture hall that I'm his girlfriend.

My face burns. Is this man actually trying to destroy me?

Meanwhile, he continues. "While promises made under pressure may satisfy the legal requirements of an agreement in some contexts, their ethical validity is questionable, because genuine consent requires autonomy..."

He goes on to give a perfect answer. The professor nods.

"Excellent addition."

"Thank you."

Everett sits back down like nothing happened, and I remain frozen. My mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. Nothing comes out.

Eventually, he reaches over and pulls me back into my seat. I let him, mostly because my brain has stopped functioning.

The second class ends, I turn on him.

"How dare you, Everett?"

He looks at me. "Is that the thank you I get for saving your ass?"

"Saving my ass?" I hiss. "You're the reason I almost died!"

"You're welcome."

I glare at him. He doesn't care.

"Six p.m.," he says.

"Regardless of whether you nearly gave me a heart attack, I have plans."

"My house. Six."

"You're impossible."

He shrugs.

Spencer appears beside us and stretches out a hand. "Can I get a table water?"

I open my mouth, but before I can answer, Everett says, "She's my maid."

Silence.

Then...

"Not yours."

I look at him. He doesn't smile. Doesn't laugh. Nothing. He's completely serious.

My forehead creases. What was that?

Spencer slowly raises both hands. "Okay."

I look back at Everett. Selfish much?

"You know I can't be at your place at six," I say. "I'm going home."

"Sleep over."

I stare at him. He shrugs. "There's a spare room."

Of course there is. Everett Griffin lives in a five-bedroom house off campus because apparently being ridiculously handsome wasn't enough. He also had to be born into oil money. His parents are co-founders of Finn Petroleum, which has somehow spread across several cities. Don't ask me how I know all this.

Everett is popular. Very popular.

But now that I think about it... why Gladdis? He could probably attend any university he wanted, yet he chose this one.

Why?

I frown. Weird.

Then I look back at him. "Sleep over?"

His eyes stay on mine. "Yeah."

Heat creeps up my neck.

Absolutely not. There is no way I'm sleeping at Everett Griffin's house.

No fucking way.

...

Probably.