Leaving the Playboy

Hayes is staring at me, his hand resting on the waist of a girl who is wearing my face.

Its been three years since I walked away, yet hes still playing the same pathetic game. He calls her Ivy, but shes just a budget version of the original. She has my haircut, my style, and a terrified look in her eyes that tells me she knows shes just a placeholder.

Hayes thinks this display will make me jealous. He thinks parading a clone in front of me will prove hes moved on.

But I dont feel jealousy.

I look at the desperate hope burning in his eyes, and I only feel the cold, hard satisfaction of a scientist observing a failed experiment. He can copy the variables, but hell never get the same result.

I was never a prize to be won, Hayes. I was the lesson you never learned.

Chapter 1

Hayes was royalty from the moment he stepped onto campus.

It wasnt just the face that stopped traffic, or the fact that his family practically owned half the city. It was the way the world bent around him. Even our principal, a man who usually looked like he was sucking on a lemon, would stop him in the hallway with a sycophantic grin.

"Hayes! Hows your father?"

Everyone worshipped at his altar. Everyone except me.

When Hayes first started his little campaign to win me over, people actually had the nerve to warn me.

"Omg, Fallon," Mackenzie whispered, her eyes wide with scandal. "Thats Hayes. Dont play hard to get for too long, or youll blow it."

I didnt get it. Why would I want to "get" him in the first place?

To them, Hayes was a god. Everything he touched turned to gold. Everyone wanted a piece of him. It was like he was some medieval king, and if he deigned to look your way, you were supposed to fall to your knees in gratitude.

The script was written: I should blush, stammer, act overwhelmed by his attention, and then throw myself into his arms. Become his girlfriend. And then, inevitably, become just another name on his long list of exes.

Because thats what Hayes was. A player. A walking red flag.

And he didnt even try to hide it. In two months, hed dated every "it girl" in our prep school. The stuck-up Prom Queen. The ice-cold beauty. The bubbly girl next door. His toxicity levels were directly proportional to his charm.

Eventually, the game got stale. No more challenges.

Thats when someone made the joke.

"If you can bag Fallon," a guy laughed, nudging Hayes, "then youre actually a legend."

Hayes just leaned back, looking bored. He scoffed. "Easy."

And just like that, the hunt began.

How did I know? Because I was sitting right in front of them, solving calculus problems while they discussed me like I was a prize at a carnival.

I was a myth at this school. The academic machine. Since freshman year, my GPA had been untouchable. Perfect scores. Every test, every quiz. I didnt just beat the person in second place; I obliterated them.

I didnt care about anything but my grades. Thats why they thought I was the ultimate boss fight for Hayes.

I didnt understand their logic. I just found it boring.

But Hayes took the bait.

It started small. Imported chocolates appearing on my desk. Then the flowers. Not the gaudy bouquets he gave the others, but subtle, "tasteful" arrangements. Wildflowers. Peonies just starting to bloom. Rare orchids.

Hed leave them on the windowsill next to my desk. Everyone else swooned.

"So romantic," they sighed.

Then came the gourmet breakfasts. The "low-key" gifts that probably cost more than my tuition. It was his standard playbook.

I ignored every single gesture.

He kept it up for a month, this lazy, arrogant pursuit. And in all that time, I didnt say a single word to him.

Chapter 2

Our first conversation happened on a lazy afternoon. He slid a textbook onto my desk, pointing at an extra credit problem.

"How do you solve this?"

I never turned down an academic question. It was the one area where I wasnt a fortress.

I started sketching out the solution on a piece of scratch paper. He sat next to me, too close. I could feel the heat radiating off him.

Suddenly, he cut me off. "What do you like?"

My pen froze. I dragged my gaze from the equations to his face.

He was resting his chin on his hand, watching me. Dark hair falling over eyes that were annoyingly deep. Jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He was objectively better looking than any celebrity the girls in class obsessed over.

I set my pen down. The click echoed in the quiet space between us.

"If youre not here to learn," I said, not looking up, "stop wasting my time."

A laugh burst out of him, sudden and bright. His eyes flicked to the paper for a split second.

"The answer is root three. I got it," he said, dismissing the math entirely. "So. What do you like?"

I ignored him.

After that, the bullying started.

It was subtle at first. Black marker scribbles on my desk. My chair missing. Textbooks vanishing into thin air.

Then it escalated. The classic, clich mean-girl tactics. Getting locked in the bathroom.

When Hayes found me, he played the part perfectly. The knight in shining armor. The savior descending from the heavens to rescue the damsel.

He kicked open the locked stall door. I was standing there, soaked to the bone from a bucket of water rigged above.

He immediately stripped off his jacket, holding it out to me, his brows furrowed in concern. "Who did this?"

Like he was ready to burn the world down for me.

I looked up at him. Water dripped from my bangs. I didnt take the jacket. I checked my watch.

"You made me miss fifteen minutes of Physics," I said. No emotion. Just facts.

His eyebrows shot up. "How is that my fault?"

That was it. My patience snapped.

I looked him dead in the eye.

"One," I listed, ticking them off on my fingers. "I keep my head down. I dont have enemies."

"Two. Before you announced you were chasing me, no one touched me."

"Three. Unless you gave the green light, no one in this school would dare mess with the girl Hayes is trying to bag."

The mask of concern slipped.

It was replaced by a slow, lazy smirk. The arrogance was back. He pulled the jacket back, draping it over his own arm, and looked at me with genuine amusement.

"Oops," he drawled. "Busted."

Boring.

I turned my head, ready to walk past him without another word. As I brushed by, his hand shot out. He gripped my wrist.

I stopped.

He leaned in, his eyes scanning my face, searching for a crack. "Fallon," he murmured. "Are you playing hard to get?"

I actually laughed.

I turned to face him, a cold smile touching my lips.

"If you think that," I said, "then hold your breath and stay out of my way. Wait for my mask to slip. Then youll know."

His grip on my wrist didnt loosen. He stared at me, his focus absolute.

Then, he smiled. A real one.

"Interesting."

Chapter 3

I didnt love Hayes.

But apparently, that was an impossible concept for anyone else to grasp. How could anyone not love Hayes? He was the golden boy. Rich, brilliant, devastatingly handsome.

My indifference seemed to genuinely confuse him. Id catch him staring at me, a calculated, puzzled look in his eyes. He was a hunter. And he was setting his traps.

He maneuvered his way into the seat next to mine. The whole class watched, popcorn ready. They even started a betting pool on how long Id last.

I was a statue. I studied. I solved equations. I memorized history dates. To me, the guy sitting six inches away was just empty space.

Eventually, the narrative shifted. Everyone just assumed we were a couple.

Our Calculus teacher loved pairing us up for board work. Every time our names were called, the class would erupt in knowing snickers and "Ooooohs."

Hayes played into it perfectly. Hed turn to me amidst the noise, a soft, intimate smile playing on his lips, his eyes locked on mine. Like he was deeply, madly in love.

Of course, whenever we actually solved the problems on the board, he never beat me. Not once.

Mackenzie, my old desk partner, called me a stone.

"Come on, Fallon," she groaned. "Its Hayes. I know hes a player, but who wouldnt want to date him? Even if its just for the experience. Like, you dont have to marry him, just enjoy the ride."

I slapped her Physics test onto the table. A barely-passing grade stared back at us.

"Lets focus on getting your grades to enjoy the ride first," I said flatly. "You missed a question we went over in class yesterday."

She groaned, throwing her head back. "Fallon, you are such a robot. Poor Hayes."

I didnt see what was so pitiable about him. His interest in me was a whim. A game. It had nothing to do with heart and everything to do with conquest.

The ice between us only cracked because of my mom.

She fell and broke her leg. I had to take a week off school to run her stall at the fish market.

Thats where Hayes found me. Gutting fish.

The neighbors knew our situation, so I sold out fast. Mrs. Ross, the lady from the next stall over, sighed as she packed up a fresh snapper.

"Fallon, honey, come by later. Ill make some soup for you to take to the hospital. You have SATs coming up. You need to focus on school."

I smiled, wiping my hands on my apron. "Thanks, Mrs. Ross. Dont worry. Im keeping up."

I started cleaning up the carnage. Blood, scales, slime. Stacking the heavy plastic crates one by one.

I looked up, and there he was.

Hayes. Standing at the entrance of the market.

He looked like an alien species in this place. His tailored clothes against the backdrop of raw meat and fish guts. The noise, the smellhe didnt belong here.

He was just watching me. Quietly.

I ignored him. I grabbed a heavy crate, gritting my teeth as I hoisted it onto the bed of my rusted-out pickup truck.

Suddenly, he was there.

He walked straight through the muck in his designer sneakers. He reached out and took the crate from my hands. It was slick with fish slime. He didnt flinch.

He set it down in the truck bed with effortless grace.

"Leave the heavy lifting to someone with actual strength," he said, his voice low.

I didnt argue. I just watched. He stacked every single crate, ruining his clothes, not caring about the stench.

Then, he hopped into the drivers seat.

He sat there, gripping the steering wheel like he was in a Porsche 911. He turned to look at me, that signature confidence back in place.

"Get in. Ill drive you home."

I paused. I looked at him, then at the ancient, manual-transmission beater.

"Can you even drive stick?"

Chapter 4

He froze.

For the first time, the mask of perfection cracked. He looked genuinely stumped. The boy who had the world on a string was defeated by a rusty clutch.

A small laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

"Get off," I said.

He looked at me, surprised. Then, a slow smile spread across his face. It wasnt his usual smirk. It was soft. Almost reverent.

"Fallon," he murmured. "Thats the first time Ive ever seen you smile."

For the next week, he showed up every day. Like clockwork.

He helped me set up. He helped me break down. The first time he watched me gut a fishblade flashing, scales flyinghe just stood there and started laughing.

I paused, knife hovering over a carp, and gave him a questioning look.

He was grinning, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"You know that old joke?" he asked. "Ive been gutting fish so long, my heart is as cold as the blade. I thought it was just a line. Didnt think Id meet the living proof."

He leaned in, his tone playful but his eyes searching. "So, Fallon. Is your heart as cold as that knife?"

I smiled back. A polite, razor-sharp smile. I decided to fold my hand and leave the table.

"Hayes," I said, my voice steady. "We are from different planets. You see this? This is my reality. Im not playing hard to get. I dont have the time, the energy, or the money to play your games. Stop wasting your time."

I held his gaze. Total honesty.

His smile slowly faded. He stared at me for a long moment, processing the rejection. Then, he looked away.

"I get it," he said quietly.

I exhaled. Finally.

Hayes went back to his old ways.

Beautiful girls. Edgy girls. Proud girls. He cycled through them at breakneck speed. He was still my desk partner, but the pressure was gone. He stopped bothering me. The rumors died down.

I honestly doubted Hayes even knew what love was. His feelings were like weather patternschaotic and constantly shifting.

One day, Id watch him cut class just to buy a girl her favorite boba. The next day, hed dump her without blinking.

Sometimes, Id see the aftermath. A girl crying her eyes out, begging for another chance. Hayes would stand there, voice gentle, smile polite, but his eyes? Dead. Cold. Impatient.

"You knew exactly who I was before we started," hed say, smooth as silk. "Lets end this on a good note. Dont make it messy."

I watched one of these scenes from my desk, pencil in hand.

"Hayes," I said, genuinely impressed by his ruthlessness. "You are actual trash."

He leaned back in his chair, spreading his hands wide. "Im honest trash. I own it. Better than the guys who lie and cheat and pretend to be saints."

He flashed me a grin. "Besides. As long as you dont date me, Im a great guy."

He wasnt wrong. I went back to my equations.

We didnt have a real drink together until after graduation.

The senior class organized a graduation bonfire. The air was thick with nostalgia and cheap beer. I got swept up in it and actually had a few sips.

Hayes walked me home that night.

The moonlight was liquid silver. He was unusually quiet, trailing a few steps behind me. I turned around.

He was shadowing me. Literally. He was carefully placing his feet directly onto my shadow on the pavement, step for step, like a kid avoiding cracks in the sidewalk.

I couldnt help but laugh. "What are you doing?"

Chapter 5

He looked up, meeting my eyes with an arrogance that felt entirely natural.

"So, partner," he asked. "Where are you heading?"

I turned away.

"You know," he continued, stepping closer, "I could make one phone call and find out before the admissions portal even updates. But I want to hear it from you."

I sighed. The lie tasted like ash on my tongue.

"Astor University."

He nodded, a smile breaking across his face.

In that moment, I understood why girls threw themselves at him. It wasnt just the money or the status. It was him.

Bathed in the moonlight, he didnt look like the cynical player I knew. He looked radiant. Clean. Like a masterpiece painted in silver.

His smile was genuine. No smirk. No irony. Just Hayes.

"Then Ill see you at Astor, partner," he said, his voice dropping an octave, wrapping around me like the warm night air.

I didnt say anything. I just memorized his face.

"Goodbye," I finally whispered.

I knew it wasnt just a farewell for the night.

The phone call came before the official acceptance letters went out. I wasnt surprised. Hayes always knew things before the rest of the world.

He didnt yell. He was past that. He laugheda cold, sharp sound that scraped against my ear.

"Fallon," he said, his voice freezing the line. "You really outdid yourself. Bravo."

He repeated it three times. Bravo. Bravo. Bravo.

I gripped the phone, silence my only defense, until the line clicked dead.

When the results were posted, the schools digital marquee flashed my name in bright lights, celebrating my acceptance to Caldwell University as the top scholar.

Right below it, another message scrolled past. Hayes. Accepted to Astor University.

Astor and Caldwell. Two prestigious schools in the same university town. Separated by two blocks.

But they might as well have been different galaxies.

I knew Hayes. His pride was his spine. I had humiliated him. He would never contact me again.

We were from different worlds. Even living in the same zip code, I knew our paths wouldnt cross unless fate decided to play a cruel joke.

And for three years, it didnt.

I went to Caldwell. I became a new legend there. The Ghost of the Library. The Curve Breaker.

From my dorm balcony, I could see the camphor trees lining the entrance of Astor University. But I never saw Hayes.

I heard about him, though. Everyone did. His name floated through the grapevine, attached to wild parties, business mergers, and a revolving door of models and heiresses.

I assumed he heard about me, too.

We didnt meet again until the second semester of our junior year.

I had signed up for a volunteer teaching program in a remote outpost. The earthquake hit at midnight.

I had just finished lesson planning and was reading a research report. The world didnt shake; it shattered. The roar was deafening.

When the ceiling came down, instinct took over. I dove into the corner of the room, curling into a ball. The "Triangle of Life."

Concrete and steel screamed as they collapsed around me, forming a claustrophobic tomb. But I wasnt crushed.

I waited in the dark for three days.

Thirst was a physical weight, pressing down on my throat. Dust coated my lungs. But I stayed calm. Panic burns oxygen. I didnt have oxygen to spare.

When the light finally broke through, it was blinding.

Voices. Shouting.

"We got a survivor!"

Rough hands pulled me from the rubble.

"Can you hear me? How many fingers?" A medic was in my face, checking my pupils.

Someone was pressing a water bottle to my cracked lips. Cheers erupted around me.

And then, through the haze of dust and adrenaline, I saw him.

Standing at the back of the rescue team.

Hayes.

Chapter 6

He was silent.

His eyes were rimmed with red, locked onto me like I was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

He was holding a shovel. His designer clothes were shredded, caked in gray dust and dried blood. He was a ruin. A beautiful, devastated ruin.

I didnt ask how he knew where I was. The fact was standing right in front of me, undeniable as the rubble at my feet.

He knew. And he came.

No matter how our story ended, I would always have this moment. The proof. He loved me.

We hadnt spoken in three years.

That night, in the makeshift medical tent, he sat by my cot while saline dripped into my veins.

He looked older. The boyish softness was gone, replaced by a harder, sharper jawline. He stared at the IV bag, watching the droplets fall, counting the seconds.

"Fallon," he said, his voice raspy. "You looked surprised to see me."

He let out a dry, self-deprecating laugh. "I was surprised too. I heard about the earthquake, and my brain just stopped. I didnt think. I just got on a plane."

He finally looked at me. His gaze was intense, heavy with three years of silence.

"Ive been watching you. For three years. Every award, every paper." He shook his head, looking genuinely confused. "I dont even know what this is anymore. Is it just obsession because youre the only thing I couldnt have? Or do I actually love you?"

"I dont have a reference point," he whispered. "Youre the outlier."

"Lets test the hypothesis," I said.

He froze. He looked at me like I was speaking a dead language.

I smiled. "Lets verify it, Hayes. Do you want to be my boyfriend?"

His jaw actually dropped. He looked completely dumbfounded.

Then, the walls came back up. He turned his head away, scoffing. "Is this pity? Because I dont need your charity, Fallon. Ive dated plenty of girls, dont think just because I"

"Im not made of stone, Hayes," I cut in softly.

"I havent killed enough fish yet. My heart isnt that cold." I looked at his dirty, blood-stained handshands that had dug through concrete for me. "No one could remain unmoved by this."

I paused, letting a small smile touch my lips. "But if you keep talking, I might actually change my mind."

He shut his mouth instantly. The silence stretched, thick and electric.

Then he looked back at me, his eyes fierce, possessive.

"If we do this," he growled, "theres no backing out. Once you submit this answer, you cant change it. Im the only correct choice."

"Deal," I said calmly. "But Hayes. Before we start. I have three conditions."

Chapter 7