Chapter 4: The Trap

Derek said he’d take me to meet his friends. He made it sound like a favor, but it was a setup from the jump. I knew it was going to be a trial by fire—he’d give me the cold shoulder in front of them, embarrass me, make me give up. Like some weird high school hazing for grown-ups. But I’d already read the playbook.

Honestly, I was ready to quit, since I’d already gotten enough out of him. One last big score, then I’d leave.

But after meeting his buddy Marcus, something felt off. He wasn’t acting like the snarky wingman I’d pictured. Instead, there was a vibe—a little too much eye contact, a few too many jokes tossed my way.

Marcus’s attitude was strange. He kept leaning in, grinning like he was auditioning for The Bachelor. Rumor has it his sister has liked Derek for a long time. She’d even DM’d me once, not that I ever replied. She always complains to him about it, so Marcus has always been pretty hostile toward me. Normally, he’d barely look at me, let alone ask how my day was.

But today, as soon as we met, Marcus started flirting. He went full Midwest—slid over the last curly fry, Midwest code for ‘you’re special.’ During dinner at the local steakhouse, he was attentive the whole time: filling my glass, asking about my favorite bands, and making me feel like the only girl in the room.

Near the end, he even “accidentally” spilled his drink on my skirt. “Oh shoot, I’m so sorry! Lucky there’s a mall next door. Let me buy you a new one to make up for it.”

He looked mortified, but his eyes kept flicking to Derek—waiting for a cue. Derek, stone-faced, said, “I hate shopping. I’ll wait for you in the car. Hurry up.” With that, he left.

The door barely closed before the tension changed. I grabbed a napkin, dabbing at my skirt, trying to play it cool.

Then I happened to see Marcus’s arm when he rolled up his sleeve—fair skin, lean muscle, smooth, sexy lines. It looked familiar. I have a knack for this kind of thing—I never forget a guy’s body once I’ve seen it. This was the guy who’d sent me that ab selfie on Instagram.

In an instant, my clever little brain went into overdrive. I kept my face neutral, but inside, the dots were connecting faster than a BuzzFeed quiz.

These two jerks actually dared to set me up. First, send a photo to test if I’m a cheater, then approach me in real life. Once they get evidence, they’ll hand it to Derek’s family and I’ll be toast. It’s the kind of scheme you see in bad reality TV. But at least I’d get a new dress out of it.

I was just annoyed at Derek’s rudeness at first and wanted to get some money out of him—added up, it wasn’t even enough to buy one of his watches. Chump change to these people, but hey, it’s my rent this month.

But they wanted to ruin my reputation and toy with my feelings. Poisonous. Truly poisonous.

Thinking this, I looked up at Marcus. I steeled myself, ready for round two of the mind games. Marcus smiled at me again, glowing under the restaurant lights. “Shall we go?” He offered his arm, picture-perfect and chiseled.

What a touching display of brotherhood. I’d like to see how long your little boat of friendship can stay afloat. I tucked my arm in his, all smiles, but inside I was plotting my own little shipwreck.