As a car salesperson, Scarlet knew her way around a steering wheel.
The two vehicles sat side by side in the JW Marriott's underground garage—a study in contrasts that somehow worked. The C260L looked refined and elegant next to the commanding presence of the GLE.
Arden stood with his arm around Scarlet's waist, admiring the pair with genuine satisfaction. Her car had cost him $40,000 total, which with the 8x cashback meant $320,000 flowing back into his account.
God, she really was his lucky charm.
From now on, whenever he needed to make a major purchase for cashback purposes, Scarlet was definitely coming along for the ride.
"So, do you want to use the temporary plates for now, or should I go with you to the DMV this morning?"
"Don't you have a required class?"
"Yeah, but I could skip it..."
"No need, there's no rush. You go to class. I'll just hang at the hotel, watch some shows on my phone. I won't be bored."
Scarlet's compliance kicked in again—that eager-to-please energy that put those high-maintenance influencer girls to shame.
Arden nodded approvingly, leaning close to her ear. "Then let's head upstairs first. Help me... relax a bit before I head back to campus."
"Mm-hmm."
Scarlet's soft response came as she glanced down at the already visible evidence of his interest.
God, his stamina is insane.
She was genuinely worried that by her birthday, he'd work her so hard she wouldn't be able to get out of bed.
Though honestly? For a woman, that was the kind of problem you wanted to have.
Especially after helping Arden "relax," Scarlet could swear his energy seemed even more intense than yesterday.
A thrill of anticipation ran through her.
At this rate, even if he tries to be patient, I don't think I'll make it to my birthday before I jump him myself. Ugh... if it happens, it happens. Go with the flow, right?
Scarlet felt her self-imposed boundaries starting to crumble.
Driving back to campus, Arden found a spot in the open-air lot in Pennbrook's South Campus.
Faculty and staff mostly parked here, along with a handful of students who had cars—local kids like Tyler Shaw.
The dorms were north, classrooms to the west—both about a ten-minute walk. With the campus bike-share scattered around, it didn't matter.
His body enhanced by the system's serum, Arden pedaled the small bike like his life depended on it, successfully sliding into his Advanced Calculus classroom just before the professor started.
He scanned the lecture hall, quickly spotting his three roommates in the back two rows.
Unfortunately, those prime real estate seats were packed. His boys hadn't managed to save him a spot.
It was common knowledge that in university lecture halls, the back two rows were gold. Maximum distance from the professor meant maximum comfort.
Ryan also spotted him and threw up his hands in the classic "my bad, bro" gesture—palms up, shoulders shrugged.
A text popped up on Arden's phone.
[Ryan: Dude, only three seats left when we got here, you're on your own!]
[Ryan: [basketball player shrug emoji]]
[Arden: [middle finger emoji]]
Arden swept his gaze across the room. Looked like the only open seats were in the front row—death row, where you became the professor's designated interaction victim.
Hard pass.
Then—jackpot. An empty seat in the middle section, right by the wall.
Wait. Wasn't that Imogen?
In the cramped lecture hall seating, Imogen had a wall to her right and an empty chair to her left—weirdly conspicuous considering every other seat around her was taken.
Arden could guess why. The Ice Queen effect—her cold, unapproachable academic aura was basically freshman repellent.
Most of the class were first-years, still carrying that thin-skinned high school energy. No way they'd dare sit next to her.
Plus, Imogen didn't have many female friends either.
She spotted him at the same moment, and for a split second, joy flickered across her face before she schooled it back to neutral.
She couldn't make it too obvious.
But her actions spoke loud enough. She unfolded the empty chair beside her and waved him over.
Oh shit.
That move triggered a wave of suppressed murmurs.
Several students who'd been keeping tabs on the campus ice queen did a collective double-take. Goddess Imogen—the girl who supposedly cared about nothing but her studies, who allegedly viewed men as some kind of academic distraction—was inviting a guy to sit with her?
No. This couldn't be real. They had to be seeing things.
But reality hit them like a freight train.
Arden casually took the seat beside Imogen.
Immediately, she leaned close to his ear and whispered: "From now on, you can sit with me in this class. My seat's usually empty anyway."
"Smart thinking." Arden nodded. This way, he wouldn't have to stress about finding a good spot.
Actually, middle-section seats were clutch—sometimes professors paid more attention to those troublemakers in the back rows. Classic anti-strategy.
The eternal game theory between students and professors.
Imogen let out a quiet breath of relief. She'd been terrified he'd turn her down.
But she really liked being around Arden. It just felt... right. Comfortable.
She could secretly chat with him during class, share funny stuff she'd seen online.
Deep down, Imogen was basically an internet addict with zero real-world social life. Or more accurately, she had zero interest in normal social interaction.
Only Arden got her wavelength.
Plus, Arden had money. Ever since her mom got sick, Imogen had become acutely aware of money's importance.
She'd always known money mattered—she wasn't dumb, she'd learned about currency in middle school economics. It just hit different when you were watching hospital bills pile up.
If I became Arden's girlfriend, I wouldn't have to stress about Mom's treatment costs. She'd get proper care, and I wouldn't have to hustle just to survive...
The thought crept into Imogen's mind as she snuck glances at Arden's profile—that clean-cut jaw, those striking features.
She mentally slapped herself.
What the hell are you thinking, Imogen?!
Dating someone with that kind of transactional mindset would be completely uneth ical, right? Felt like it wouldn't end well.
Besides, even if she did become his girlfriend, what right would she have to ask him to spend that much on her mom's treatment?
Rationally, Imogen knew that thought was idiotic.
But then again...
She and Arden really were compatible. Soul-level compatible.
Dating him would be genuine. So maybe... maybe there was no problem?
The girl's mind spun in circles.
Meanwhile, Arden fired off a text to Emma Anderson, his advisor, letting her know he was back in class and she could stop worrying.
Honestly, Emma was pretty great—serious and responsible, but also chill with her management style. That rare combo of structure and freedom.
Having a solid advisor was definitely a major win for college life.
At the back of the classroom, Evan Thornton stared with his dead-fish eyes.
He laser-focused on Arden and Imogen up there, his face a mask of devastation.
His mouth fell open in disbelief. "No. This doesn't make sense. Why the hell would Imogen let Arden sit next to her?"