Beatrice's first kiss happened at fifteen under the library stairs. Dry lips, wrong boy, and she still tasted the dust of rejection for days. She promised her future self no more detours. Then Rhys Callahan corners her at a party, thumb brushing the inside of her wrist like he already owns the map, and every vow combusts.
He needs her brain to save his hockey career. She needs his body to bait another guy. Their contract is inked in highlighter and lies. One fake date in, Rhys forgets the script, kisses the hinge of her jaw, and whispers her name like it hurts. Now Beatrice must decide which breaks easier: her brother's trust, or the heart of the only boy who never studied her back.