“I was dirt-poor once,” Lukas says. “I remember what it’s like not knowing if you’ll be able to pay your rent.”

“I know that, sir, but that was a long time ago.”

“I didn’t resort to this,” Lukas snaps.

“I don’t want to waste time getting into the morals of it,” I tell him. “Ten million. I’m sure you can figure out how to get that into my bank account and make it look legitimate. Maybe say it’s a prize-winning or something or a lump sum to help a young man in need. I don’t want dirty money. I want to be able to use it to buy a home, start a career.”

“As a poet, eh?” Lukas says in disgust.

“That part was true. I want to be a poet.”

“And your feelings for Kayla?” he says through gritted teeth. “I guess you’re going to tell me they’re real, too.”

“It’s… complicated.” My head feels foggy and achy. I’ve been talking with Kayla almost nonstop this past week. I’ve told her about my mom and dad. I even regret saying I love you so soon as a manipulative tactic, but I have to be strong. I have to remember what’s at stake—my entire future. “I understand you’ll want me to break things off with her, though.”

“Not that complicated, then. She’s got a price.”

“Everybody has a price. It’s only the rich who don’t know that. Even if you used to be poor, you’ve clearly forgotten.”

Lukas drops into his chair, drumming his fingernails against the desk. I’ve never felt such an intense fight-or-flight reaction in my life. My heartbeat is pounding like it’s going to jump out of my chest. I can’t control it like I usually can. Lukas Larson looks ready to tear me to pieces. He’s twice my age, and I’m physically fit, but somehow, I know it’d be easy for him.

“I’ll need time to arrange the funds,” he says, “and I’ll need a bank account to send the money to.”

Reaching into my pocket, I take out a piece of paper.

“F. Bluefield,” he reads.

“Finn,” I tell him. “My real name is Finn.”

“I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure, Finn. How do I reach you?”

“Oh, yeah,” I mutter. “I didn’t think of that.”

He slides the paper across the desk. I write my cell phone number with a pen that probably costs more than a month’s rent in most apartments.

CHAPTER 15

MACI

Isit in class, struggling to listen to my lecturer. My head is spinning, but that’s nothing new. All my thoughts do lately are pirouette and clash in my mind. It’s like I’m trapped in a two-day-long expanse, unable to escape, not wanting to. It starts with seeing Lukas in the pool and ends when he leaves my bedroom.

I’ve been doing my best to forget all about it. If I could do that, life could surely go on as usual. People make mistakes and have flings all the time. College is the world of one-night-stands and casual intimacy. Another woman would laugh about this. It would be just another story.

Yet, for me, it’s not just anything. It’s everything.

After class, I leave the building and head out to my car. I almost drop my bag when I see the figure standing in the shadow of the coffee shop across the street. He’s wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap. He’s famous, after all, but I can tell from his build and the him-ness that it’s Lukas.

This differs from all the other times I’ve “seen” him this past week. There have been many times when I was sure Lukas was watching me. I’d feel a tingling down the back of my spine. I knew that if I turned around, he’d be there, those intense eyes fixated, but I was wrong.

When this Lukas raises his hand, gesturing to me, I know it’s him. Proverbial butterflies dance around me as I walk across the parking lot and join him in the shadows.

“Come for a drive?” he asks.

No, I try to make myself say. Maybe I’ll tell a lie. It’s been getting easier to forget you. Please don’t make it difficult again. The truth is, it’s been difficult every single second.

“Okay,” I murmur.

He reaches down as though to take my hand, then seems to remember himself and gestures to a black sedan instead. I follow close behind, an illicit feeling swimming through me. There’s nothing wrong with walking through a parking lot together, but it feels like we’re being bad. We’re being taboo again. We’re going to get intimate again.