= Sarah POV =

I woke up in the softest sheets I had ever felt. The fabric brushed against my skin like silk, and for a moment, I let myself sink into the comfort. I absolutely crushed it tonight! I finally got her to sleep with me! The thought sent a thrill through my chest, and I stretched, pulling the sheets back and slipping onto the cool wooden floor. My bare feet tingled against the polished surface, grounding me just enough to steady the rush of excitement.

I couldn’t quite remember the details of last night—everything was hazy thanks to the wine—but I distinctly recalled seeing Chris on top of me at some point. That had to mean things took the turn I wanted. My lips tingled at the memory, even if it was fuzzy. This had to be it—the moment I’d been waiting for.

I walked out of the guest room, running my hands through my messy brown curls, trying to smooth them down. Chris’s apartment was familiar—too familiar for someone who’d been pining as long as I had. I’d slept over more times than I could count, but nothing I’d done had ever seemed to push Chris into making a move. And she was into everybody. Everybody but me.

I’d thought maybe I hadn’t been obvious enough. But how much clearer could I be? I’d practically begged her to sleep with me every time we hung out. Surely last night had been the breakthrough.

“Chris? Darling?” I called out, my voice echoing slightly in the quiet apartment. My eyes swept over the furniture, searching for her, but instead, they landed on a post-it note stuck to the bar table. That was her spot for leaving notes—little reminders if she had to leave early or didn’t want to wake me.

I crossed the room quickly, snatching up the note. My heart thudded as I read it:

“Went over to Jenny’s. Don’t worry—I didn’t do anything weird to you last night, though I think you should take it easy today. Also, I threw away the weird contract. You can stay as long as you need, free of charge. – Chris”

I froze. My eyes scanned the note again and again, my brain struggling to process it.

“What? No!!” The words escaped me in a panicked gasp. My stomach dropped. So her hovering over me last night—what I thought had been passion—was just her tucking me into bed? Just another example of her treating me like… a friend?

I crumpled the note and tore it up in frustration, bits of paper fluttering to the floor. My fingers clenched as I paced the length of the living room. How could she be this oblivious?

The truth gnawed at me—I’d lied last night. I didn’t have to move out immediately. I already had an apartment lined up. In fact, I should probably head over there to clean up before the agent charged me an arm and a leg for the mess the party had left behind. But that wasn’t the point.

The whole drunken contract thing had felt brilliant at the time. I mean, maybe it was still brilliant! It was my way of opening the door, of creating a situation where Chris could finally see me as something more than a friend. George had told me about how his boss was paying him to pretend to be his boyfriend, and that idea had stuck. I didn’t need to pay Chris—my parents would’ve been thrilled if I came home with anyone, guy or girl. But I’d wanted to make something happen.

In my drunken haze, I thought I’d created the perfect setup. The contract was supposed to be cute—romantic even. It should’ve clued her in that I was serious about her, that I wanted something more. But Chris apparently hadn’t seen any romantic comedies recently. She’d missed every signal I threw at her.

Still, as I poured myself some orange juice from the fridge, a new determination settled in my chest. Maybe the plan wasn’t dead yet. If I pushed a little harder, if I kept this going, she’d have to see I was genuinely interested. I just needed to convince her to sign the contract while we were both sober this time. Maybe then she’d get it.

I took a long sip of juice, savoring the cold sweetness. This could still work. Once Chris realized what the contract really meant, it would become the kind of adorable story we could laugh about with our kids someday. I grinned at the thought, already picturing how it might unfold.

Clapping my hands together, I nodded to myself. This plan had to work. Was there really a better way to tell someone I was into them than serving myself up on a platter? It had worked with all my previous boyfriends—why wouldn’t it work on Chris? She was a girl. She’d get me sooner than those dense guys I used to date.

I mentally patted myself on the back as I rinsed the cup in the sink, already considering what to wear when I headed to my apartment later. Everything was still on track. I just had to play it smart.