Maisy's POV

I fire off a quick text as Vince's townhouse comes into view. "Almost there. Can you grab those textbooks I left in your room?"

My finger hovers over send before I tap it, shoving the phone deep into my jacket pocket. Statistics starts soon, and Mrs. Foster has a zero-tolerance policy for students who show up unprepared. The same textbooks currently scattered somewhere in my boyfriend's disaster of a bedroom.

My pace picks up automatically. I check my phone again, expecting at least a thumbs up emoji, but the screen stays blank. No response. Not even those little dots showing he's typing.

A flicker of annoyance crosses my mind. Vince's probably still dead to the world. Baseball players don't exactly keep normal hours, especially not during off-season. While I'm scrambling to maintain my GPA, he gets to treat college like an extended vacation.

The townhouse steps blur beneath my feet as I take them two at a time. My messenger bag bounces against my hip with each stride. The higher I climb, the more my chest tightens. Not from exertion, but from this growing irritation that he can't be bothered to answer a simple text.

By the third floor, I'm already composing the sarcastic comment I'll make about basic communication skills when I walk through his door.

My hand closes around the doorknob just as his voice drifts through the wood.

"You need to get out of here. My girlfriend's coming over."

I freeze completely.

"Hurry up."

My blood turns to ice water. Who is he talking to?

Before the question fully forms, the door jerks open and a girl practically flies out, nearly knocking me backward. She gasps when she sees me, her face going white with panic and shame.

In that split second before she bolts, I take in everything. Tangled auburn hair. Wrinkled blouse hanging off one shoulder. Jeans barely zipped. The unmistakable scent of Vince's cologne clinging to her skin.

My eyes snap to the doorway where Vince stands frozen. Shirtless. Hair mussed. Nothing but boxer shorts.

The hallway tilts. Ice shoots through my veins, stealing every breath from my lungs. My knees nearly buckle as my stomach drops into freefall.

The girl rushes past me without a word, her footsteps echoing down the stairwell. My hands start shaking. My heart pounds so violently I think it might shatter my ribs. I stumble backward, bile rising in my throat.

"Babe, wait." Vince's voice cuts through my shock as he steps into the hallway. I whip around and run, desperate to put distance between us, my chest burning with fury.

His hand clamps around my wrist before I reach the stairs. He spins me back toward him, blocking my escape route. "We need to talk about this."

"Don't touch me," I snarl, my voice shaking with rage. "Let go of me right now." I shove against his bare chest, but he doesn't budge.

He drags me back toward his room, his grip tightening. "Not out here. Everyone in the building can hear us."

Inside his room, I wrench free and shove him away hard. My breathing comes in sharp bursts. I want to scream at him, demand explanations, but the evidence surrounds us. Sheets twisted into knots. Her perfume still hanging in the air. The guilty panic written across his face.

He paces to his dresser and back, running both hands through his hair before grabbing my shoulders. "Look, I screwed up, okay?" He drags a palm down his face. "It was a mistake."

My eye twitches. "A mistake?"

"Yeah, babe." His gaze skitters away from mine. "Some of the guys came by last night. We got completely wasted. I was so drunk I thought... I thought she was you. I barely remember any of it."

I stare at him, my mouth falling open slightly. The words bounce around in my head without landing anywhere that makes sense. Did he actually just say that? Does he honestly expect me to believe this ridiculous lie?

I wait for him to take it back, to admit how stupid that sounds. But he just stands there, watching my face like he's calculating whether I'm gullible enough to swallow this garbage.

"You thought she was me?" The words come out strangled with disbelief. "Are you actually serious right now?"

"Dead serious, babe. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. It was a mistake," he insists. "Besides, she made the first move. What was I supposed to do when I was that drunk? You know I love you."

A harsh laugh tears out of my throat. "Cheating is bad enough, Vince," I snap, stepping closer to him. "But thinking I'm stupid enough to believe your pathetic lies? That's insulting."

"Maisy, you're being dramatic," he says, his tone growing colder. "Look at Orlando and Emma. They got through the same thing. Why can't you be more mature about this?"

Heat flares through my entire body.

"Dramatic?" I yell. "All this time, Vince! All this time of promises, and you've broken every single one! And you have the nerve to call me dramatic?"

He scoffs, his fake concern finally cracking. "Promises? You really want to go there?"

I step back. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He crosses his arms and moves toward me. "You want to talk about broken promises? Fine." He points at my face, his eyes going dark. "You promised your crazy schedule wouldn't come between us. How's that working out? Every single day you're busy with something else. Debate team, student council, some pointless club meeting. You put everything before me."

"That's not true—" I start, but he cuts me off.

"I'm a division one athlete and I still make time for you!" he shouts, making me flinch. "You know what? This is on you!" He jabs my shoulder with his finger. "This happened because of your choices, not mine. You did this!"

I stumble backward, rage climbing up my spine like fire.

Never in my worst nightmares did I imagine the person I loved and trusted for so long could be this twisted. Turning everything around. Making me the villain. Acting like I drove him to cheat.

"You're a coward, Vince." The words come out as a whisper, but I lift my chin to meet his stare. "That's exactly what you are. Blaming me for your cheating, twisting the truth, making this my fault? I'm done."

I rush to his desk, sweeping papers and books onto the floor as I hunt for my statistics textbook. I need to get out of here before my anger explodes, before I do something I'll regret.

"You act like you have better options out there. You don't, and you never will." He sneers from behind me. "Nobody else will ever make you feel the way I do."

I freeze, looking up at him. He steps closer, his voice getting louder as he repeats himself. "You were nothing before me, Maisy. I made you somebody. People know your name because of me. Vince Vanguard."

Something inside me completely snaps. I close the distance between us, getting right in his face. "You will never speak to me again," I hiss. "And I promise you'll be replaced by someone better, smarter, and hotter than you could ever dream of being."

I rip the silver necklace he gave me off my neck and hurl it at his feet. Without another word, I grab my textbook and storm out, tears burning behind my eyes. I held it together in front of him, but as I race down the stairs, everything breaks apart.

I collapse against the brick wall outside, clutching my chest as sobs rip out of me. It feels like someone reached into my chest and shredded my heart into confetti. Every memory, every moment we shared crashes over me in waves.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I fumble to answer it with shaking hands. "Maisy?" My brother's voice comes through the speaker.

"Yeah?" I sniffle, wiping my face with my sleeve.

"Don't forget about tutoring Xavier after your class today," he says, sounding irritated. "He's already texting me about it."

I bite my lip hard, wanting to tell him I can't handle this right now, not in this state. But I made a promise to help his friend. I take a shaky breath and force myself to stand up.

"Okay," I manage to get out.

...

Xavier's POV

The curse tears from my lips as another driver swerves in front of me without warning. My palm strikes the steering wheel hard enough to sting, and I glare at the taillights disappearing ahead. Just what I needed to cap off this disaster of a day.

My mood has been black for days now. Everything feels wrong, like the universe decided to pile on just to see how much I can take before I snap completely.

And it all traces back to the old man's threat echoing in my head like a broken record.

Get your grades up or kiss hockey goodbye. His ultimatum burns through my thoughts, simple words that might as well be a death sentence. As if I could just magically transform into some academic superstar overnight.

Most of my classes hover around C territory, which should be fine. But Marketing Management and Business Ethics are killing me. Fail either one and graduation disappears, taking hockey with it. Worse than that, my stepbrother Vince gets exactly what he wants – control of Mom's company.

He and his calculating mother have been circling like vultures, waiting for me to stumble. The company Mom poured her heart into building will fall into their greedy hands if I screw this up. My jaw clenches so tight it aches, and a growl escapes before I can stop it.

The parking lot of my apartment complex comes into view. I cut the engine and sit there for a moment, hands still gripping the wheel, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

Get it together, Vanguard. You can handle this.

At least I have an ace up my sleeve. Maisy, Tobias's brilliant little sister, can help me salvage this mess. A few tutoring sessions with her brain and I'll keep my grades where they need to be. Hockey stays mine, and Vince can go to hell. Simple plan. Smart plan. But right now I need something to take the edge off before I lose what's left of my control.

I push out of the car and head toward the building entrance.

A figure leaning against my door makes me slow my steps. She looks up at the sound of my footsteps, lips curving into that familiar predatory smile.

Becca. Perfect timing. I'd texted her on the drive home, not expecting her to show up this fast.

She's wearing nothing but an oversized jacket and sheer stockings that leave little to the imagination. When a woman waits at your door dressed like that, you know exactly what she's offering.

"About time you got here." Her voice carries that husky promise that means my bad day is about to get a whole lot better.

My eyes rake over her as I fish out my keys. "All this for me?"

Her gaze turns molten. "Every inch."

The door barely closes behind us before her hands are on my chest, fingernails dragging across the fabric of my shirt.

"How long has it been since we did this?" she breathes against my neck.

"Too long," I admit.

She steps back with that wicked smile, letting the jacket slide off her shoulders to pool at her feet. Then she's sinking to her knees, one finger beckoning me closer. "Come here, big guy."

I close the distance between us in two strides. The frustration, the pressure from my father, the threat hanging over everything I care about – all of it melts away as her hands work at my belt.

She pops the button of my jeans with practiced ease, sliding the zipper down slowly. My length springs free into her waiting palm, and the contact pulls a rough sound from deep in my throat.

"That's it," I growl. "Take it."

She parts her lips and takes me in, and for the next few hours, nothing else exists.

————

Later, Becca curls against my side, her head on my chest as her fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin. The intimate gesture makes something uncomfortable twist in my gut. I don't do the cuddling thing – it feels too much like promises I have no intention of keeping.

I shift carefully, easing her off me as I reach for my boxers on the floor.

"Xavier..."

"I missed you," she says suddenly, cutting off whatever I was about to say.

I freeze halfway into my shorts, caught completely off guard. The first thing that hits me is panic, followed immediately by irritation. Did she forget what this was supposed to be?

When we started this arrangement, I made the rules crystal clear. No emotions, no expectations, just good times when we both needed them. She seemed fine with it then, but apparently that's changed.

"I've been swamped with school," I mutter, pulling the boxers up. I can't tell her I missed her too because I didn't – she never crossed my mind once since our last hookup. But saying that out loud would be unnecessarily cruel. "Listen, I'm beat. Early practice tomorrow." I run a hand through my hair, hoping she takes the hint.

She doesn't.

"Are you seriously trying to kick me out minutes after we just finished?" Her voice goes sharp, hurt bleeding through the anger.

"Becca, look..."

"Is this really all I am to you? Just someone you call when you want to get off?" She sits up, clutching the sheet to her chest.

"I thought we were on the same page about this," I say carefully. "From day one, I told you I'm not looking for anything serious. No strings, just fun."

Her hands shake as she grabs her jacket from the floor. "Well, I don't want to be your booty call anymore. I want something real. I want to be your girlfriend."

"That's not going to happen." My voice comes out flat, final.

"Why not?" The question bursts out of her, raw and desperate.

"I don't owe you an explanation, and don't act like I lied to you. You knew exactly what this was from the start." I nod toward the door. "If you wanted more, you shouldn't have agreed to this arrangement. Do us both a favor and go."

Her expression crumbles for a moment, vulnerability flickering in her eyes as reality hits her. "Xavier..." she whispers, voice breaking. "I really care about you. Can't we just try—"

She reaches for me and I step back automatically. Her hand hangs in the air between us for a heartbeat before she drops it, vulnerability replaced by cold fury.

"What exactly is wrong with me as girlfriend material?" she demands, voice turning hard. "Am I not good enough for you? Not pretty enough? Not smart enough?"

I don't answer. Instead, I walk past her into the kitchen and grab a beer from the fridge, twisting off the cap with more force than necessary.

She follows, heels clicking on the hardwood. "So that's it? You're just going to stand there drinking beer like I don't exist? Like what we just did meant nothing?"

I take a long pull from the bottle without looking at her. "I thought I made it clear. It doesn't."

"I could be good for you!" Her voice cracks with desperation. "I could be everything you need. Just give me a chance."

I shake my head slowly. "I don't want a girlfriend."

The words hang heavy in the air. Something breaks inside her and she lets out a sound that's part sob, part scream.

"Go to hell!" she shouts.

She storms toward the door, yanking it open so hard it bounces off the wall. In her rush to escape, she nearly bowls over a girl walking down the hallway, arms full of textbooks. The girl sidesteps gracefully, and I recognize Maisy immediately. Her tired eyes flick from Becca to me, expression unreadable.

Becca gives her a slow, contemptuous look up and down before turning back to me with a sneer. "Really? This is your type now? I thought you had better taste."

My mouth opens to shut her down, but Maisy beats me to it.

"Relax. I'm not here to sleep with him. Unlike some people, I actually have a brain and use it for something other than trying to trap guys into relationships."

Both Becca and I freeze. My eyebrows shoot up, genuinely surprised. Becca's sneer falters like she just got slapped, and for a second she looks completely stunned.

...

Maisy's POV

The redhead shoots me a look that could cut glass, her chest heaving as she struggles to contain whatever fury is boiling inside her. I brace for some scathing comeback, but instead she just gives me one final withering stare, tosses an annoyed grunt at Xavier, and storms away while cursing under her breath.

I watch her retreat, my jaw tight as frustration crawls under my skin. What is it with redheads and me today? First Vince this morning, now his brother. Apparently they both gravitate toward the same type.

A low laugh from the doorway pulls my focus back. Xavier lounges against the frame with that cocky grin plastered across his face. His bare torso catches the light, every sculpted muscle impossible to miss. "Never knew you had claws, Clementine."

I arch an eyebrow, caught between irritation and curiosity. "Clementine?"

He steps away from the door, moving closer as his hand lifts toward me. I pull back instinctively, a chill racing down my spine, and his smirk grows wider.

"Easy there," he says, nodding toward my chest. I look down and spot it immediately: a peach illustration right in the middle of my shirt. Warmth floods my cheeks as I shake my head and let out a dry laugh.

I push past him into the main living space. "Find a shirt."

"Why?" His voice carries that same teasing tone, even though I refuse to turn around. "Getting distracted by what you see?"

I whip around to face him. "Ever heard of basic manners?" I snap. "It's spelled—"

"Hey, I know how to spell." He cuts me off with mock offense, which only makes my annoyance spike higher.

He closes the door and walks over to the kitchen counter where a beer can sits waiting. Without hesitation, he tips it back and drains the whole thing in one long gulp.

"Is that alcohol?" I ask, my hands curling into fists.

He gives me an odd look, glancing at the crushed can in his grip. "It's beer, so yeah, pretty sure that counts as alcohol." He tilts his head with that insufferable smirk returning. "Aren't you supposed to be the genius here?"

Fury builds in my chest. Didn't Tobias warn him I was coming? But no, Tobias called this morning specifically to confirm our session. So Xavier knows exactly why I'm here, and it's not to watch him get wasted.

"You're drinking when you're supposed to be studying?" I demand, my voice sharp.

He sighs theatrically and tosses the empty can toward the trash. "Don't get so worked up, Clementine," he says with that maddening playful tone. "One beer isn't going to knock me unconscious. Besides, we could just spend tonight getting acquainted. Tobias definitely failed to mention how gorgeous you've become."

Irritation crawls up my spine and my mouth twitches. My eyes flick toward the exit, tempted to bail, but then I remember Tobias's desperate plea and that thousand dollars he promised for my laptop fund.

I level him with my most withering stare. "First, stop calling me Clementine. Second, maybe the reason you're bombing your classes is because you spend too much time flirting instead of studying, not to mention your hockey obsession. If you actually focus on tutoring instead of hitting on me, we might accomplish something tonight. Otherwise, I'm perfectly happy to waste your time and watch you crash and burn."

"Do you even have friends?" he tosses back casually, completely blindsiding me. "Or did they all disappear because you're too busy studying to remember how to be human?"

His words hit their mark, echoing what Vince threw at me this morning, but I swallow the sting.

"You're obviously so skilled at being social that you forget everything else matters." I hold up my textbook. "Like actually graduating college."

His grin spreads wider, and I can tell he's treating this like some kind of game. Is my resistance actually turning him on?

"Alright, where's your bedroom? Let's start," I say, keeping my tone level.

He leads me down the hall and I follow, taking in the space as we enter. Chicago Blackhawks posters dominate the walls along with other players I recognize from Tobias's collection. The room is surprisingly tidy until my gaze hits his bed.

My stomach lurches. The sheets are tangled and two torn condom packages are scattered on the floor.

I bolt from the room, clutching my books as heat floods my face. He trails after me with that amused confusion written across his features, but I don't slow down.

"We'll work out here instead," I announce, avoiding his eyes completely. I drop my books on the coffee table, my arms aching from gripping them so tightly.

Xavier stalks closer, shrinking the space between us. "Why'd you bolt like that?" he asks. "Can't handle being alone with me, Clementine?"

That damn nickname again. My patience snaps. "You should clean up after hookups when you have guests coming over. It's called basic courtesy. Maybe you've heard the concept, though obviously you haven't practiced it."

His fingers suddenly catch my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "You sure that's the real reason? Because I could make room in my schedule for you."

That's my breaking point. Heat explodes in my chest as I grab my books from the table and storm toward the door. "Find another tutor!" I shout.

He catches my arm, trying to stop my exit, but I jerk hard against his hold. I refuse to sit through hours of his shameless pickup attempts, not today. Not after everything I've endured.

"Wait, I'm sorry, okay?" Xavier's voice shifts, becoming softer and more urgent.

"Let go of me." I twist, fighting to break free.

"I'll behave, I promise," he rushes out. "I'll put on clothes, drop the nickname, watch every word I say. Just please, tutor me. I'm genuinely desperate."

I spin around, ready to tell him he doesn't act remotely desperate, when my phone starts buzzing relentlessly. With an annoyed huff, I pull it out, expecting someone from my study group.

Instead, it's Vince.

My stomach clenches as I tap the notification. Rather than apologies like I foolishly hoped for a moment, my screen floods with nasty messages from him. My throat tightens as I focus on one particular line that makes everything else fade.

VINCE: Bring back my baseball jacket. My new girlfriend wants it.

The world narrows to those words. I read them twice, but they don't change. He wants his jacket returned? And he already has a replacement girl so soon after dumping me? My jaw locks tight enough to ache. He's deliberately trying to provoke me, and damn it, it's working. If I don't strike back, he wins.

The memory of him sneering that I'd never find anyone better burns through me.

"Hey..." A gentle touch on my shoulder startles me, and Xavier's voice cuts through my spiral. "Did you catch anything I just said? I told you I'll do whatever you need. Anything."

My head snaps toward him, and it takes a moment to refocus, his final word echoing in my mind.

Anything you need.

The phrase repeats like a mantra, and suddenly my brain fills with possibilities that shouldn't be there. My gaze sweeps down his frame and back up, and he notices, his brows drawing together in confusion.

I shouldn't even consider it, but the idea is incredibly tempting. Xavier Vanguard, campus golden boy and star hockey forward. He's the guy women would kill to be seen with, and men despise because he can steal their girlfriends with just a smile.

He might be a player, but everyone knows he's selective. Impossibly selective. So much so that women brag about even making it to his bed. Just being spotted with him boosts your social standing instantly. You get party invitations simply because you've caught Xavier Vanguard's attention.

And right now, he's standing before me, promising anything I want.

He's ideal for my revenge scheme. Not just because of his status, but because he's Vince's brother. What better way to crush Vince's oversized ego than showing him his supposedly replaceable ex is dating his hotter, more successful brother?

I turn to face Xavier completely, anticipation crackling under my skin.

"You'll do anything?" I ask, studying him intently.

He watches me carefully, uncertainty flickering in his expression for the first time tonight. Still, he nods. "Yeah."

I take a measured breath, steadying the intensity in my voice. "Here's my offer. I'll tutor you, and not just enough to scrape by. You'll excel in every class, minimum B grades across the board. That's my contribution."

He narrows his eyes, waiting. "And mine?"

"In exchange," I say, "you'll use your appeal, your social connections, your golden reputation to court me publicly. We'll create a visible relationship that everyone will notice."