Page 97 of Scoring Lessons

“Nothing,” he commented casually then blurted, “I think we should add another rule to our arrangement.”

“Okay…” I let the word hang, allowing him to continue.

“If either of us wants to start dating or hooking up with other people, we have to let the other person know so we can stop.” He bit the inside of his cheek. “I guess what I’m trying to say is⁠—”

“You want us to be exclusive.”

“For the sake of the lessons,” he added quickly.

“Of course.” My shoulders almost sagged, but I caught myself in the process. He was only thinking of the list. Of what it meant to be exclusive so he could keep his end of the bargain.

He lifted his pinky. “Deal?”

I interlaced mine with a sigh. “This is stupid.”

“No, it isn’t.” His brows furrowed like my comment had personally offended him. “How else can we make sure it’s true?”

I raised a brow. “Teenage Olivia begs to differ.”

He rolled his eyes. “That was different.”

“Oh, was it now?” I asked dryly.

When we were in high school, we used to go to parties after football games. Once, he walked into one of the bathrooms and caught me making out with the captain of the football team. I made him pinky promise he wouldn’t tell my brother, but of course, he had lied, and my brother punched the guy square in the face an hour later.

He waved his hand dismissively, then he dropped it on my thigh and squeezed it as if being in this position was the most natural thing in the world. “I did you a favor.”

I gaped at him. “How exactly were you doing me a favor?”

“After I promised you, I saw him kissing another girl!” He scoffed. “He deserved everything he got.”

“It’s not like he was my boyfriend.”

“He was seeing half the school, and you didn’t even know.” His tone turned frustrated.

I scowled at him. Damn Wesley and his pristine memory. “You knew damn well I didn’t want to have anything serious back then, so why the hell did that matter?”

He shook his head adamantly. “If he liked you, he should have done everything in his power to be with you. The guy was an idiot for not wanting to keep a girl like you.”

His comment—or more like a compliment?—made my stomach flutter with a million little butterflies.

“Can you blame him?” My laugh was hollow. “I used to be fucking intense.”

My shoulders sagged slightly at the reminder. I had been so different back then. Something I never thought possible during my childhood. When my mother divorced our toxic father, I had the chance to experience a normal teenage life. I was fearless—a little careless, too, sure, which was not the best thing, but…I got to experience something good. I had hopes and dreams. I thought I was finally free and nothing—no one—was ever going to cage me again.

“You weren’t intense at all.” He frowned. “You were loud, sure. But you were full of life. It was impossible to be sad around you.” The way his eyes shone with something soft made my heart skip a beat.

“That was then, this is now.”

“What changed?” The question had been barely a murmur.

A thick, suffocating silence settled between us.

“Life.” I was getting tired of giving that pragmatic answer. But anything was better than admitting I let myself be controlled by a manipulative, piece of shit cheater for seven years.

In the grand scheme of things, it shouldn’t have mattered. But knowing where I came from? Witnessing everything my mother had gone through? I thought I’d see the signs. I thought I’d never let anything slide.

“You can’t keep doing this, Olivia. You can’t keep shutting me out.”