Love Game

Love Game

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"Whoever falls in love first? Loses." Spencer Morgan Carlson is the average teenage girl with a very low tolerance of bullshit. Spencer loves sports, mostly soccer, and will most likely beat you at anything you throw at her. She's very protective of her friends, and when Jake Cosgrove, the school player and jock, starts hitting on her best friend, Spencer is quick to act. "I heard you're a player," she walked up to him and said one day, breaking him out of his previous conversation. "What are you talk--" He started, but was cut off when a firm hand was placed on his chest. "So let's play a game. Let's sweet talk, let's play fight, and text all day. Let's tell each other good morning and good night, let's take walks together and give each other nicknames. Let's hang out with each other's friends and go on dates. We'll talk on the phone all night long. Let's hold each other and kiss and hug. And whoever falls in love first? Loses." Sure, she was forward. Maybe a little bit /too/ forward. "You're on," he smirked, holding out his hand for her to shake. Spencer readily shook his hand firmly and replaced her grin with a sly smile and walked away, sashaying her hips the whole way.
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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."

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