I Played The Players

To get closer to him, I decided to date Julian.

Why why does he have to be Julian's roommate?

Julian and his roommates were huddled in their dorm, reading my diary. They thought theyd find pages upon pages of me gushing about my undying love for Julian.

Instead, they opened the first page, and the room went dead silent.

Three months to make me fall for him?

Game on.

Chapter 1

Julian looked like hed swallowed glass when he found me.

Score. He definitely read the diary. The fake one I planted, obviously.

Go ahead. Steal my privacy. I hope it hurts.

Internally, I was cackling. Externally, I plastered on my best look of innocent confusion. "Julian? Is everything okay? You look pale."

Julian stared at me. Hard. Like he was trying to X-ray my soul.

A few seconds of heavy silence passed before his voice dropped, low and dangerous. "Elena. You're my girlfriend now. Its time I introduced you to my roommates."

He wants to hunt down the suspect.

I immediately dialed up the joy, pretending I didnt notice his face was darker than a thunderhead.

"Really?" I clasped my hands together, acting nervous. "I I finally get to meet your friends?"

"Dinner. Tonight." He practically ground his teeth.

I froze, letting a shadow of distress cross my face. "Oh no. I can't. I have a shift at the diner"

Julian didnt waste breath arguing. He whipped out his phone.

Ping.

Twenty thousand dollars.

"Take the night off," he commanded. "Tell them something came up."

I hit the refund button instantly. My voice trembled with righteous integrity. "No! Julian, I can't take your money! Thats not why Im with you!"

Ping. He sent it back.

"I said take it."

I hit refund again. "Absolutely not."

Ping.

He didnt just want to pay me off; he wanted to own my time. He accepted the transfer himself and typed a memo in the notes: Voluntary Gift C Non-refundable.

"Done," he snapped, handing it back. "End of discussion."

I glanced at the balance on my screen. My heart did a little backflip.

I looked up at him, eyes shimmering with unshed tears of gratitude. "Julian you're too good to me."

Lets get the landscape straight. I go to Saint Ives Academy.

Im the diversity hire of this school, the scholarship girl they use for PR. The broke scholarship girl.

Julian? He is the definition of Old Money.

He and his three roommates are the campus gods. People literally call them "The Four." They have fan clubs. Actual fan clubs.

Julians biggest existential crisis is deciding whether to jet to London or Paris for the weekend. Skiing in the Alps or diving in the Maldives.

My daily crisis?

I have to secure the maximum scholarship amount, juggle three part-time jobs, and maintain my "fragile white lotus" persona.

I have to look soft, harmless, and pitiful. Thats the only way to avoid the soap opera clich of being bullied and isolated, while maintaining just enough popularity to be useful.

Beyond that, I spend my mental energy calculating how many promo codes I can stack on a food delivery order, locating which stores give freebies on birthdays, and tracking supermarket clearance sales.

That is the life of the poor. Its tedious. Its exhausting.

And Im winning.

Chapter 2

Originally, Julian and I existed in different universes. We were never meant to collide.

Until the rumors started.

Apparently, I was the ice queen. The ungettable girl. Rumor had it that some guy chased me for six months and failed miserably.

They also said I kept a diary. A diary filled with my deepest, darkest secrets.

Me?

I had no idea who this mystery chaser was.

I have zero clue if anyone is chasing me. Why? Because the second class ends, I vanish. I am working. If someone talks to me, I smile, nod, and completely dissociate.

As for the diary?

It is a ledger.

I have been manually tracking every cent I earn since I was a child.

But Julian found this fascinating.

He did not just want to read the diary. He made a bet with his roommates.

Three months. That was the deadline to conquer me.

I rejected him. Again. And again.

He kept coming. Like a shark smelling blood. He was amused by the challenge.

Then came the breaking point.

Julian showed up at the diner where I work. He paid a guy to harass me just so he could swoop in and play the hero.

That was the moment I snapped.

My manager screamed at me. I was covered in soup stains and grease.

I walked back into the hall, looked at Julian, and gritted my teeth.

Then, I forced out a teary, grateful smile.

Thank you, Julian.

Fine. You do not want to be a human being?

Time to turn this Prince Charming into a Human ATM.

Julian took me to a high-end Western restaurant.

When we arrived, the rest of his roommates were already seated.

They tried to look bored. But I could feel it. Their eyes were locked on me.

Men are so predictable.

They have no actual interest in me. But the moment they think I might be secretly in love with one of them, that I only accepted Julian to get closer to him, their egos inflate.

Curiosity and competitiveness kick in.

They cannot hide that smug satisfaction.

A bunch of entitled creeps who get off on violating a girl's privacy.

Internally, I was cursing Julian and his bored, rich friends to hell and back.

Externally, my expression did not crack.

I played my card.

I pulled my hand slightly out of Julian's grip. Just a fraction.

The classic Oh god, my crush is here reaction.

Julian felt it instantly.

His face darkened. He tightened his grip on my hand, crushing my fingers, while his voice remained silky smooth.

Elena, these are my roommates. You must have seen them around campus.

I nodded.

Then I clamped my mouth shut.

I know Julian. He will not confront me.

First, he is too proud to admit he stole my diary.

Second, he feels played. He is desperate to know which one of them is the him in my entries.

Third, he wants to win.

Chapter 3

From the moment Julian realized I had feelings for his roommate, the game changed.

I stopped being a disposable bet. I became a trophy he had to win.

Men.

Rich, poorit doesn't matter. They are all the same.

Their insecurities are written on their foreheads in neon lights. I can crack their code in a second.

We reached the table. Julian was still staring at me, his eyes drilling into the side of my head.

He was desperate to catch my gaze drifting. He wanted to pinpoint exactly which roommate I was secretly in love with.

Nice try.

I didn't give him a crumb.

I kept my eyes glued to him, blinking innocently. "Julian? Why aren't you sitting down?"

Julian: ""

The air at the table was tight enough to snap.

Brody broke the silence first.

"Julian, we haven't ordered yet. Why don't you pick for uh, Elena?" Brody flashed a grin. "You know what she likes."

Brody.

He has those golden retriever eyes. Chiseled jaw, deep dimples when he smiles.

He radiates sunshine and optimism.

I get it.

If my family owned half the real estate in Manhattan, Id probably be pretty damn optimistic too.

He slid a menu toward me.

It was a wall of French text. Escargot. Foie gras. Unpronounceable nonsense.

I didn't recognize a single dish.

But I recognized the numbers.

One appetizer cost more than my entire months salary.

God, I hate the one percent.

I shook my head, offering a shy, embarrassed smile. "I Ive never eaten any of this. You guys choose."

Brody took the menu back. "Cool. Julian, you're up. Youre the boyfriend. You gotta know what she loves."

Crash and burn.

Julian doesn't know a thing about me. He thinks I'm a human garbage disposal who eats anything.

But I know them.

I did my homework. The fan club dossiers were very specific.

Julian loves mangoes.

Brody is deathly allergic to them.

I frowned slightly, leaning toward the waiter. I kept my voice low, but audible.

"Excuse me. None of these dishes have mango in them, right?"

The table went dead silent.

Julian froze. Brody froze.

I looked around, blinking in confusion. "What? Is something wrong? Im allergic to mango. That's why I asked."

I turned to Julian, my eyes wide and accusing.

"Julian you didn't know?"

Under my gaze, Julian turned to stone.

He was trapped.

He couldn't admit he didn't know. That would shatter his "devoted boyfriend who finally won the girl" persona.

But he couldn't say he knew, either.

Because it was a lie.

I'm not allergic. I literally chugged a mango smoothie for breakfast.

Brody jumped in to save the awkward silence. "That's crazy. I'm actually allergic to mangoes too."

Jackpot.

Thank you, Valerie from the drama club, for the lessons.

Thank you to every bit part I ever played for cash.

I lowered my lashes, acting shy.

Then, I lifted my gaze slowly, locking eyes with Brody.

My look was soft. Tender. A secret shared.

"Wow," I whispered. "That is crazy."

Chapter 4

In reality? My eyes were doing a high-speed sweep of the three men opposite me.

Lashes down.

Lift gaze to Brody.

Lashes down.

Lift gaze to Theodore.

Lashes down.

Lift gaze to Axel.

I didn't leave anyone out. I gave them all the full tortured soul treatment.

Three parts loneliness. Three parts adoration. Two parts melancholy. Two parts restraint.

My eye muscles were practically cramping. It was the performance of a lifetime. Oscar-worthy.

Brody stiffened.

He looked rattled. He shifted in his seat, abandoning his relaxed slouch. Then he shot a subtle glance at Julian.

It was pure disapproval.

Julian was sitting right next to me.

From his angle, he missed the eye-fucking. But he caught the physical performance.

Like right now.

The food hadn't even arrived yet. I casually slid my cup of hot tea across the table.

Theodore froze.

He looked at me.

I locked eyes with him. "Mr. President. Aren't you going to take your medicine first?"

Theodore is the Student Council President.

At a self-governing elite school like Saint Ives, that basically makes him God.

Theodore wears silver-rimmed glasses. He has perfect, symmetrical features. He looks like an angel, refined and untouchable, but its all just a high-end mask. He treats everyone with impeccable manners.

But it's a wall. He keeps everyone a thousand miles away.

In short? He is fake.

I get it, though. If I were the sole heir to a Global 100 corporation? Id be even faker than him.

Julians voice cut in. "Medicine? What are you talking about?"

I just kept looking at Theodore. Holding his gaze.

The air at the table instantly filled with the smell of gunpowder.

Beside me, Julian was vibrating with tension. His jaw was so tight I thought a tooth might crack.

"I applied for the Student Council," I said softly. "But"

I trailed off. I let a shadow of sadness cross my face.

I left a massive blank space for them to fill with their own delusions.

A few seconds later, I composed myself. I looked up, forcing a brave, bright smile.

"So I know the President has stomach issues."

There was absolutely no correlation there.

I did apply for the Student Council. The reason I didn't get in was because I was cut in the first round.

I applied for the position of Chief of Staff. The Kings Hand.

I was serious about it. I even quit two of my part-time jobs to prepare. I was determined to win.

First, as Chief of Staff, Id be second-in-command. I could walk through Saint Ives like I owned the place and throw my weight around.

Second, Id only have to kiss Theodores ass. Everyone else would have to bow to me because I held the keys to the castle.

Third, the extra credit points for the scholarship were insane. I usually have to weed the school gardens to get those points.

Fourthand most importantlyI had a plan.

I figured I could slowly win over the council members. Maybe stage a coup. Or just wait for Theodore to graduate and take the throne myself.

Who wouldn't have that ambition?

I certainly did.

Chapter 5

I had done my research on Theodore.

He has a weak stomach.

It is the classic Billionaire CEO trope. Of course he has a delicate constitution.

I memorized that fact. I filed it away under "Things to Use for Brown-nosing Later."

But even after I scored first place on the written exam for the Student Council, I was cut in the first interview round.

Why?

Because I couldn't compete with the girl who donated ten million dollars to the council.

Savannah. The head of Theodore's fan club. She dropped a fortune just to breathe the same air as him.

I spent that entire night tossing and turning, wondering if I got plastic surgery to look like Theodore, would someone drop ten million dollars on me?

I watched the sun come up, and I was still pissed.

Theodore, of course, knew none of this.

He would never guess that I had harbored dark, treasonous thoughts of usurping his throne.

Right now, he looked stunned. His light tea-colored eyes fixed on me, swirling with complex emotions.

After a long pause, he whispered, "Thank you."

The words slipped out before I could stop them. "Don't thank me."

Julian: "?"

His eyes were practically spitting fire. He glared at Theodore with a look that screamed, So it was you? You're the one she wrote about?

I kept my head lowered, my voice soft and submissive. "You are all Julian's friends. It's the least I could do."

Under the table, invisible to the rest of the world, I moved.

My pinky finger brushed against Julian's.

The contact was electric.

I hooked my pinky around his.

Julians anger froze on his face. The muscle ticking in his jaw stopped mid-spasm.

He whipped his head around to look at me.

I curved my eyes into a smile. Pure. Guileless. Without a single scheming thought behind it.

Julian: ""

He turned away without a word.

But under the table? He didn't let go