Stephanie Walker - straight-A student, sweet, pretty, and every parent's dream. Her life is perfectly planned out... until her senior year trip throws her into the chaotic orbit of the school's golden boy. Now her final year in high school isn't looking so simple. "Don't let me catch you, cupcake," his voice boomed from downstairs, and I took off running. I ducked behind a pole, heart racing, trying to calm my nerves. Way to go, Stephanie, my subconscious snarked. His footsteps echoed closer. "Where are you, cupcake?" he called out playfully. Like I'd actually tell you, I thought, holding my breath. Silence. Then, warm fingers snaked around my waist, and I didn't need to turn to know it was him. "Found you," he whispered in my ear, and a shiver zipped down my spine. "How?" I breathed, turning to face him. His smirk told me he knew exactly what he was doing to me. Get it together, fool, I mentally scolded myself. "Want the sugarcoated version or the truth?" he teased. I raised a brow at him. "I could smell you from a mile away," he whispered, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. Butterflies. So many freaking butterflies. "That was the sugarcoated version," he added with a grin. I blinked, narrowing my eyes. "The pole didn't hide you well. Your cardigan was sticking out," he shrugged. And then came the smirk. "Now, time for my revenge." I barely had time to process before something soft and powdery rained down on me. I wiped my face. Flour. He did not just dump flour on me even if I started it. Mature, much? I thought bitterly. Poker face on. "Real mature," I said, brushing past him with fake annoyance. Time to activate drama mode. "Come on, babe, you can't be mad..." he called after me. This book is everything. You NEED to read this.

C O M P L E T E D "Date me," he spins the whiskey around in the glass and fixes me with a smirk. I roll my eyes the moment the words roll off his tongue. "Are you really that desperate?" I scoff in response, fighting back the ever prominent blush. His smirk widens as my face flushes red and he leans over the countertop towards me. I step back. "Name your price," he replies, his words cool and smooth like ice cream. Only I would reference food at a moment like this. Anger rolls around in the pit of my stomach; I may not have money but I have morals. "You can't buy people, Grant," The words fall out of my mouth and he recoils as if slapped. I'm glad. Stupid rich boy and his player ways. "Bet I can," I resist the urge to slap the smug look of his face and scoff again. "Right," I drag out the word, rolling my eyes. I step away from the counter and turn my back on him, desperate to leave. But he speaks again. "Date me. Two months. If you fall for me for my money, I win. If I fall for you for who you really are, you win." I consider this for a moment. I have nothing to loose and really not much to gain. But I'm so desperate to put the asshole in his place that I can't resist. I'm a sucker for a bet. "Deal."