The Playboy Bet On The Wrong Good Girl

The bass from the sound system downstairs was strong enough to make the floor of the upstairs guest room tremble faintly.

It was the celebration party for Oakridge High's football team after their win in the state semifinals.

The air was thick with the smell of cheap beer and overapplied men's cologne.

I sat at the desk in Kaelen's bedroom, noise-canceling headphones on, trying to focus on the AP Biology study guide in front of me.

The door swung open, and I pulled off my headphones out of habit.

Kaelen walked in, carrying the heat and the swagger that belonged only to a young guy on top of the world.

He was wearing that blue-and-gold team jacket with his name printed on it, his blond hair damp against his forehead from sweat.

"Still studying? My straight-A girl." He came over, wrapped his arms around my shoulders from behind, and pressed a kiss to the curve of my neck, his breath still carrying the smell of alcohol.

My heart skipped a beat, and my cheeks flushed without permission.

Even after five months together, every time he got close to me, I still turned into a fumbling mess, like some girl experiencing her first crush.

I was the least noticeable scholarship kid in school, and Kaelen was every girl's dream guy, the quarterback with a trust fund behind him.

The fact that he'd chosen me felt like an unreal fairy tale.

And slowly, I'd been trying to open myself up, to shake off the "bookworm" image everyone had of me.

"There's a test tomorrow, Kaelen," I murmured in protest, but I still let myself lean back against his chest.

"Fine. I'll go deal with the coach downstairs for a bit. I'll be right back to keep you company."

He laughed softly and ruffled my hair.

The door closed. The room was empty again, just me.

I took a deep breath, ready to put my headphones back on and return to my study guide.

"Ding—"

A sharp notification sound suddenly rang out. I instinctively grabbed the phone next to me, only to find the screen dark.

Not mine?

But the annoying chime kept going off, one after another. I frowned slightly and followed the sound to Kaelen's messy king-size bed.

I reached out and pulled back the blanket, and found his MacBook half-hidden under the sheets.

I only meant to take it out and set it somewhere proper, but the moment I lifted the screen, a flood of notification windows popping up in the corner pinned my eyes in place.

It was a Snapchat message from Zander.

Zander was the team's wide receiver, and Kaelen's best friend since childhood.

He always looked at me with a smirking, knowing kind of stare that made me uncomfortable.

I was about to close the laptop, but the words on the screen froze me in place.

Zander: [Your "good girl" still hasn't put out tonight? Bro, prom's only a month away, my Porsche keys are ready and waiting, you got this or not?]

What Porsche?

I clicked straight into the group chat named "Hunt Club."

There were only five people in it, all core members of the football team.

My hands shaking, I scrolled up through the message history. The record from five months ago appeared right in front of me.

Zander: [Bet you Kaelen can't land that nerd girl, Maeve. She looks at people like a nun. Boring as hell.]

Kaelen: [Six months. I'll have her lying in my bed before prom. What's the bet?]

Zander: [If you win, I'll give you my dad's '78 Porsche 911. If you lose, you give up your Ivy League spot and admit in front of the whole school that you're a limp dick.]

Kaelen: [Deal. Get ready for the show.]

What followed was a long and merciless live broadcast.

Kaelen: [Took her to the aquarium today, she actually cried, she was so moved. Poor girls are so easy to fool.]

Kaelen: [She even shakes when we kiss, like some scared little rabbit. So boring. If it weren't for the Porsche, I'd have dumped her already.]

Zander: [Don't rush it, bro. If you can't close the deal, want me to take over? I think she's kind of hot in those glasses.]

Kaelen: [Back off, she's my trophy.]

A wave of violent nausea hit me.

I clapped a hand over my mouth and stumbled into the bathroom off Kaelen's room, doubling over the toilet and retching.

So that romantic confession in the rain, those late-night phone calls, the way he'd look at me like I was everything — all of it had been fake.

I thought I was Cinderella. Turns out I was just the equivalent value of a used Porsche.

I curled up on the bathroom floor, tears streaming down without stopping.

Five months of a relationship. I had poured out all my sincerity and trust, and what I got in return was a line in some rich boys' group chat: "Poor girls are so easy to fool."

"Maeve? You in there?" Kaelen was back.

I bit down hard on the back of my hand, refusing to let out even a single sob.

I couldn't go out there and confront him now.

If I stormed out right now, all I'd get was a few hollow apologies, or I'd become a joke for them to laugh about together.

I was still the poor girl who couldn't afford college tuition, and they were still the untouchable rich boys looking down from above.

"Maeve?" He knocked on the door.

I took a deep breath and looked at the girl in the mirror, her eyes rimmed red, looking utterly wrecked.

Crying wouldn't solve anything. Tears were the cheapest thing there was.

I turned on the faucet and washed my face with cold water, forcing myself to calm down.

A few seconds later, I grabbed a towel, dried my face, and forced a weak but flawless smile at the mirror.

I opened the door and met Kaelen's concerned gaze.

"What's wrong, babe? You feeling sick?" He walked over and pulled me into his arms.

I breathed in his familiar scent, swallowing down the nausea, and buried my face against his chest.

"I'm fine, just tired. I splashed some water on my face."

Kaelen kissed my forehead.

"Then let's call it here for tonight. I'll drive you home."

I nodded, my gaze drifting past his shoulder to land on the framed photo on his desk — the first picture we'd taken together after we started dating.