𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒, 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 ⤜ 𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝑳𝑻𝑬𝑹

𝟎𝟏: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐋

࿐
"YOUR NEEDS, MY NEEDS."
CAMILLE WOODS
࿐

I slowly nod my head as I look over my notes from class, rewriting them out in an attempt to bring my grades back up. The slow landslide of disaster that is my grades had finally caught up with my mom, and she wasn't exactly pleased at the realization that I'd been slacking off that much this semester. I'd been so busy with cheer, and honestly, partying, that I hadn't been taking studying into as much consideration as I should have.

The wind blows through my hair as I keep a hand on my notebook to keep the pages from flying. I can hear the sounds from the football field, practice ongoing, and I can't help but feel glad I don't have cheer practice in this freezing weather today. I'm pulled from my thoughts when I feel the weight shift on the other side of the bench, seeing a blonde-haired boy sitting down opposite of me.

"Something I can help you with, Cole?" I say dryly, not bothering to look up from the pages, still trying to fix the mess of notes from class today.

"Yeah," he sighs. "I need you to do me a solid." I don't even have to look up to see the cocky smirk on his tanned face.

I lift my head to meet his eye, the green abyss enticing, but knowing his track record, they almost seem dull. "Uh-huh? If this is some way of you asking me to sleep with you, you already know my answer from sophomore year."

"Wow," he grins. "I see where your standards for me lie. I'm wounded."

"Is there a point to this conversation or do you just enjoy wasting my time?"

"Well, I do find that hilarious," He smiles, showing his perfectly straight teeth. "But this conversation goes a little more in depth than beating around the bush with you, Cam." Cam. I grimace. No one ever calls me Cam—despite my dad, which is awful in itself—other than Cole. He knows it gets under my skin, he's known that since middle school, but he's Cole, and Cole does what he wants. Magic of the Cole Effect.

I don't even reply, I let the silence linger, the wind and distant grunts and whistles from the football field filling the awkward void. I finally nod, still waiting for him to share some shocking revelation.

"Look, you know the situation with Erin. Everyone does. I'm being harped on constantly, not a moment of peace, Erin's off hooking up with some guy, I don't even know his name..." he trails off, letting a long, deep sigh fluctuate into the wind. "I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend." He finally manages to get out, running a hand through his dirty blonde hair. I stifle a laugh, pressing my lips together tighter than I ever have before, biting my lip inwards to the extent I'm surprised it hasn't bled. Cole Walter, school asshole, wants me to pretend I'm dating him? Hilarious.

I bite my tongue with snarky responses I could sputter out at him, almost playing into what he's said. "What do I get out of this little exchange?" I tilt my head, looking the blonde boy right in his eyes. "I don't see how pretending to be dating an obnoxious jock benefits me."

He thinks, tapping his hand against his arm as he conjures something up in order to get me to give in. "It'd get some of those guys off your ass," he shrugs nonchalantly. "You'd get bragging rights with your friends—"

I interject. "You think I'd want to brag about dating you? What world of immersive popularity and social status are you assuming I live in?"

He grins. "Come on, look at me," he gestures to himself, "who wouldn't want to brag about all this?"

"You're looking at her." I force a dramatic smile to further my point.

"You're telling me that guy in your third period class hasn't been getting under your skin even a little bit?" He presses farther, desperately trying to convince me.

"No, he is, but I'm handling it." I shrug. "I don't need some sort of fake relationship to brush him off."

"But I need one to piss Erin off." He quickly counters, his eyes almost seem like a plead.

"So? I don't service Cole Walter's every need."

• • •

"It's the most preposterous request that has ever grazed this earth!" I protest to my friend, Florence. "There is no way in hell that I'm even feigning an attraction to that uncultured swan of a jock."

"Someone's quite passionate about the rejection of this idea," she laughs at my outburst. "Weighing the pros and cons, Cami, he's not that bad of a guy."

"He wants to date me to get back at Erin." I narrow my eyes. "Please do enlighten my poor-minded self on how that isn't classified under the asshole definition? You could open up a dictionary, look for the page, and under asshole the only context would be 'Cole Walter'."

"If only you were this enthusiastic about studying," Florence quips back with a dramatized smile. "Might bring that C to a B."

I laugh as she shrugs her shoulders, giving her a playful push as we walk through the hallways towards the school library. "Why is he asking me anyway? Not like Erin isn't already out for my blood. Ever since they assigned me cheer captain, that girl has been wanting my head on a silver platter."

"Cole cares about two things," she starts. "Erin and Football. If it's anything outside those two things, he is blatantly clueless."

"Since his skiing accident he's been going down more than touching down," I shrug.

"Camille!" My friend laughs, nudging my shoulder. "You're ruthless. Awful. I can't even think of more adjectives to describe this behavior of yours." Her tone is filled with light-hearted sarcasm.

"What? Like half the football team doesn't objectify our every move? I practically feel like meat on a stick during practice."