I stared at him. “Fake dating terms.”
“Rules,” he said, like that made it more reasonable. “Boundaries. Expectations. Public-facing behavior. Private-facing behavior. Posting schedule. Overnight logistics.”
“Overnight logistics?”
The waitress appeared before I could follow that particular nightmare to its natural conclusion. Drew ordered three cheeseburgers, extra fries, a chocolate malted shake, two waters, and a side of onion rings without looking at the menu once. Then he glanced at me.
“She’ll have?—”
I held up one finger. “Finish that sentence carefully.”
His mouth twitched. “Whatever she wants, because she is terrifying and I respect all waitstaff.”
The waitress laughed—traitor.
I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich and fries because I was not about to sit across from him and nibble lettuce like I had been raised by rabbits. The second she walked away, Drew leaned back and studied me with a seriousness I did not trust.
“Okay,” he said. “Rule one. You post about me once a day. Twice if something big happens.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Stories count. Feed posts count more. Soft launch is already done because half the athletic department watched me kiss you, but now we need consistency.”
“You sound like a brand manager.”
“I sound like a man who understands the internet is full of bored people with group chats and bad intentions.”
I hated that he was not wrong. Ever since the training room, my phone had been vibrating nonstop. Teammates. Girls from class. Random accounts that had never cared about my existence until Drew Travers walked in, called me babe, and turned me from sad almost-girlfriend into secret football hookup.
The worst part was how fast it worked.
By the time we left the athletic complex, three people had already looked at me differently. Not with pity. With curiosity. Envy, even. Like Drew’s arm around my shoulders had repaired something Tristan’s absence broke.
It made me feel powerful.
It also made me feel sick.
“Fine,” I said. “One post a day. But I approve all photos.”
Drew scoffed. “Baby, every angle of me is good.”
“I have seen your student ID picture.”
His face changed. “That was a dark time.”
“You look like you got arrested for stealing protein powder.”
“I was bulking.”
“You were blinking.”
“Still hot.”
“Debatable.”
He grinned, and just like that, the tension loosened. That was the problem with him. He made everything too easy. Fighting with Tristan had felt like trying to read a book with half the pages missing. Fighting with Drew felt like throwing sparks at gasoline and pretending I didn’t like the fire.
“Rule two,” he said. “We eat together at least four times a week.”
