Chapter 5 The Deal

He came back the next Saturday.

Same booth. Same hoodie. Same order. Black coffee. He didn't ask if he could sit. He just sat. Like he belonged there. Like the cracked vinyl and the flickering lights and the jukebox that skipped on track four were exactly where he wanted to be.

I let him stay. I don't know why.

Maybe because he didn't try to talk. He just drank his coffee and read his book and existed in the corner while I worked. It was strange. It was also the most peaceful shift I'd had in weeks.

At the end of my shift, he was still there.

"The mixer is tomorrow," he said.

"I know."

"Priya will be there."

"I know that too."

He set his cup down. "She's going to come at you. Not directly. She never does anything directly. She'll smile and ask questions that sound innocent and make you look like you don't belong."

I untied my apron. "I've been dealing with people like her my whole life."

"This is different. Her mother controls the scholarship board. Every word you say, every look on your face, it all gets reported back."

"Why are you telling me this?"

He didn't answer right away. He looked out the window. The streetlight was flickering. The east side was dark and quiet. So different from the golden hills of Harrow.

"Because nobody told me," he said finally. "When I started at Harrow, nobody warned me how it worked. I had to figure it out alone." He looked at me. "You shouldn't have to."

I stood there with my apron in my hands and tried to understand what was happening. Callum Ashford, the most untouchable person at Harrow, was sitting in the diner where I worked. Giving me advice. Looking at me like he actually saw me.

"Why do you care?" I asked.

He stood up. Left money on the table. More than the coffee cost.

"I'll see you at the mixer."

---

The scholarship mixer was held in the school's event hall. Crystal chandeliers. Floor to ceiling windows. Waiters walking around with tiny plates of food that cost more than my weekly groceries.

I wore the only dress I owned. Black. Simple. Thrifted. It fit well enough. My mom had helped me fix the hem the night before. She didn't ask what it was for. She just smiled and told me I looked beautiful.

Zara met me at the door. She was wearing green. Her hair was up.

"You look nice," I said.

"I look like I'm going to war." She linked her arm through mine. "Same thing."

We walked in together. The room was full of people who belonged there. Board members. Teachers. Students with last names that opened doors. I saw Priya almost immediately. She was wearing red. Of course she was.

She saw me too. Her smile didn't waver. That was the scary part. She looked genuinely happy to see me. Like we were old friends.

"Nora." She floated over. "I'm so glad you made it. I heard there was some confusion with the invitation list. These things happen."

"These things happen," I repeated.

"Exactly." She touched my arm. Her fingers were cold. "You should try the salmon puffs. They're divine."

She drifted away before I could respond. Zara squeezed my arm.

"That was a warning shot," she whispered.

"I know."

"She's letting you know she can mess with your invitations. She's testing you."

"Let her test."

I spent the next hour doing exactly what Ms. Whitmore told me to do. I networked. I smiled. I shook hands with people who controlled my future and pretended I wasn't terrified. I talked about my grades and my goals and my gratitude for the Harrow opportunity.

I didn't mention the east side. I didn't mention my mom's hours getting cut. I didn't mention the note on my locker or the appeal that was denied or the way my stomach hurt every morning when I walked through those iron gates.

I was good at pretending.

Then Callum walked in.

He was wearing a suit. Not a school blazer. An actual suit. Dark gray. Perfectly fitted. His hair was pushed back. He looked like he'd stepped out of a magazine.

The room shifted when he entered. Everyone noticed. Everyone always noticed.

He scanned the crowd. Found me. Started walking.

Zara grabbed my arm. "He's coming over here."

"I see that."

"Why is he coming over here?"

"I don't know."

He stopped in front of us. Nodded at Zara. Then looked at me.

"Walk with me."

It wasn't a question.

I glanced at Zara. She looked like she was watching a car crash in slow motion. But she let go of my arm.

I followed Callum to the balcony. The night was cold. The city lights spread out below us. Music drifted from inside.

"Priya's mother asked about you," he said.

"What did she ask?"

"Whether you were the one who filed the appeal. Whether you were a problem."

"What did you say?"

"I said you were thorough." He looked at me. "I said you don't give up easily."

"That's not a compliment."

"It's the truth."

We stood there in the cold. The music kept playing. The party went on without us.

"My father called today," he said. His voice was different now. Flatter. "He wants to know who I'm bringing to the end of term gala. He wants a name."

"Give him a name."

"It's not that simple." He gripped the balcony railing. "He doesn't just want a name. He wants someone appropriate. Someone from the right family. Someone he can use."

"And if you don't give him one?"

"He'll pick for me. And I won't have any say in it." He turned to face me. "I don't want to be a pawn in his game anymore."

I didn't say anything. I was too busy remembering the stairwell. The phone call. The voice through the speaker. The way Callum's face had shut down like a door slamming.

"I have a proposal," he said.

"What kind of proposal?"

"Sixty days. End of term. You pretend to be my girlfriend. You come to my games. You sit with me at lunch. You show up at events like this one. You look like you want to be there."

"And in exchange?"

"In exchange, I protect you. From Priya. From the board. From anyone who tries to mess with your scholarship. You want to stay at Harrow. I can make sure you stay."

The wind picked up. I shivered.

"That's insane," I said.

"It's practical." He stepped closer. "You need protection. I need a shield. No feelings. Strictly business. Sixty days."

"And then what?"

"End of term. We go our separate ways. Nobody gets hurt."

I looked at him. At the suit and the jaw and the eyes that were definitely gray in this light. He was offering me a deal with the devil. But the devil had better manners than I expected. And the devil was the only one who could save me from the people who wanted me gone.

"You would need to be convincing," I said.

"So would you."

"I'm an excellent actress."

"I know."

I held out my hand. "Sixty days. No feelings. Strictly business. Terms in writing."

He took my hand. His grip was warm. Solid. The handshake lasted three seconds.

Three seconds that felt like the beginning of something I had no name for.

"Don't be late to things," I said. "I don't like waiting."

"Noted."

I pulled my hand back. Walked inside. Didn't look back.

Zara was waiting by the door. She took one look at my face and grabbed my arm.

"What just happened?"

"I made a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

I looked across the room. Priya was watching me. Callum was still on the balcony. The board members were laughing at something. The chandeliers sparkled.

"The kind that keeps me here," I said. "Sixty days. No feelings. Strictly business."

Zara stared at me. "Nora."

"What?"

"You're going to give me gray hair."

"You'll look distinguished."

"I'm seventeen!"

But even as she said it, even as the party carried on around us, I could still feel his hand in mine. Three seconds. That was all.

It was already too much.

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