All Chapters of Rival's Contract Marriage : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

POV: BrandonBy Tuesday night, our brains were mush. Actual, real-life oatmeal.Cameron was trying to memorize formulas like his life depended on it, and I was sprawled across his rug, flipping through flashcards that had been dropped, stepped on, and probably cried on at least once.“We need a break,” I said dramatically, letting my head fall back against his floor like the world had personally wronged me.“We need to pass statistics,” he said without looking up.I sat up slowly. “Okay, but counterpoint: pizza.”Cameron blinked at me. “It’s midnight.”“That’s what makes it legendary. Midnight pizza has mystical properties.”He sighed. “You’re exhausting.”“You love me.”“Debatable.”But then he stood, stretched, and pulled on that soft hoodie he always wore when he was giving up on the world. “Fine. One slice.”“Six slices,” I corrected.“Three max.”“We both know you’ll eat four.”He shot me a glare but didn’t argue.I grinned, grabbed my phone, and ordered the greasiest, cheesiest

POV: CameronMovie night was supposed to be chill. Low-key. A reward for surviving hell week. But apparently, someone (cough Brandon cough) took that as a challenge.“You bought fairy lights?”Brandon grinned from where he was hanging them across my wall. “Ambiance, Cameron. Look it up.”I flopped onto the couch dramatically, arms spread like a Victorian ghost. “You are so extra.”“You’re welcome.”There were two bags of popcorn on the coffee table. Three blankets. A line-up of movies so ridiculous it actually stressed me out. Rom-coms, horror, whatever that one musical was that he swore would “change my life.”“We’re not watching the singing mermaid one,” I muttered.Brandon tossed me a blanket. “You say that now, but wait until Act Two.”“Why do you even own fairy lights?”“Why do you own seven black hoodies that all look the same?”“They’re emotionally supportive.”“Exactly. And so are fairy lights.”I didn’t answer. Mostly because the lights did kind of make the place look magical

POV: CameronThe movie ended with a ridiculous amount of confetti, three dramatic monologues, and a love song that absolutely did not need a reprise.Brandon sat up like he’d just witnessed cinematic history. “Tell me that wasn’t amazing.”I blinked at him. “You made me watch a three-hour musical about competitive ribbon dancing.”“Art,” he said, placing a hand over his heart. “It was art, Cameron.”“You need help.”“Help can’t teach taste.”I rolled my eyes so hard it was a miracle I didn’t strain something, then grabbed the bowl of popcorn that had somehow ended up in my lap. Half of it was now crushed into tiny crumbs. Probably from when Brandon screamed during the ribbon duel scene.“You screamed,” I said.“I was emotionally invested!”“You nearly spilled soda down my shirt.”“That’s because you jumped when Sparkle Maxx betrayed Rainbow Kyle!”I snorted, trying not to smile. “Their names were actually Sparkle Maxx and Rainbow Kyle?”“Yes, and you know it, and you care.”“I do not.

Cameron POvI let him inside.Still not sure why. Maybe because I was tired. Maybe because part of me wanted the closure I was never gonna get. Or maybe I just wanted to prove that I wasn’t scared of him. Not anymore.Drake stepped in like he owned the air around him, and suddenly it was like being seventeen again—when his voice still carried weight, when I still thought maybe he cared.“Nice place,” he said, glancing around.“Don’t pretend this is a social call,” I muttered.He ignored me and headed toward the kitchen, probably expecting me to follow.I didn’t.He turned. “You could’ve told me.”“I didn’t owe you that.”“I’m your brother.”“No, you’re not,” I snapped. Drake took a step forward. “You think I don’t care? That I didn’t notice when you started pulling away? You ghosted the family.”“Because they made it impossible to breathe!” My voice cracked, and I hated that it did. “Because every time I tried to be honest, someone looked at me like I was broken!”“I didn’t!” he yell

POV: BrandonIf you had told me last week that I’d be at an actual F1 race with my grumpy, stats-loving boyfriend, I probably would’ve laughed and made some sarcastic comment about us crashing into a popcorn stand.But here we were.Cameron was practically vibrating in his seat. Like, real-life vibrating. Not even trying to hide it. His sunglasses were pushed up into his hair, and he had that super rare, slightly-unhinged smile that only came out when he forgot to be cool for five seconds.“Is that—wait. That’s Álvaro Costa,” he said, pointing like an excited child.I grinned. “You’re so cute when you nerd out over fast cars.”He elbowed me without looking. “Shut up. This is serious. Álvaro is a legend.”“Serious,” I repeated solemnly, stealing a fry from his lap.The track roared, engines revving so loud my chest buzzed. I couldn’t hear much beyond it, but I didn’t need to. Cameron’s eyes were bright. Focused. Happy.And honestly? That was better than any race.Halfway through the ev