Ryan thought he had her cornered.
He thought one week would be enough to have her on her knees, whispering his name in the dark.
But Ella had other plans.
If he wanted a game, she'd give him one. But this time? She wasn't the one chasing.
She was the storm.
****
Friday morning, she walked into school wearing the tightest black skirt she owned, the fabric hugging her hips like a second skin. Her blouse was white, clean, innocent—until you looked closely and realized it was just barely see-through under the light.
And she made sure he saw her.
Ryan had just gotten out of his red convertible when he stopped short, jaw ticking.
She didn't even look his way.
Didn't have to.
Every guy turned.
And Ryan?
He looked like he wanted to destroy something.
*****
First period was chemistry—fitting, considering the tension in the air.
She took the seat beside him.
Purposely.
"Didn't you say I should stop pretending?" she asked, voice sweet like sugar-laced poison.
Ryan turned slowly, eyes scanning every inch of her. "What are you doing?"
"Playing."
His brows lifted. "Dangerous move, sweetheart."
"I like danger."
She leaned in just enough for her scent—vanilla and warm cinnamon—to hit him like a punch to the chest.
He swallowed.
Hard.
When she reached over for the beaker, her hand brushed against his thigh.
He twitched.
She smiled like an angel.
*****
By lunch, he looked like he was losing his mind.
She walked past his table, fingers trailing along the edge as she passed. Didn't look at him. Didn't stop. Just walked away with Camila, hips swaying, like she didn't know she was setting fire to the air.
Mateo elbowed Ryan.
"Damn, bro. She's flipping your own game on you."
Ryan didn't answer.
He was too busy clenching his fists under the table.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
****
Later, in the courtyard, Ella found Ryan leaning against the stone pillar, arms folded, waiting for her.
"You done playing dress-up?" he asked, voice low.
"Who says I'm dressing up for you?"
He moved closer. "Everything about you today screams try me."
She smiled. "Maybe I'm just letting you see what you'll never touch again."
"Oh, you think you're in control?"
She stepped forward, inching into his space.
"I know I am."
Their breaths collided.
The air between them sizzled.
"Careful, Ella," he whispered, voice rough. "You're starting something you won't survive."
"I'm not scared of you, Ryan."
"You should be."
And then—without warning—he grabbed her by the waist and backed her into the wall behind the pillar.
His mouth was a breath from hers.
He didn't kiss her.
Didn't move.
Just looked.
Held her there, one hand gripping her hip like it belonged there.
"You want me," he said softly, "just as bad as I want you."
"No," she whispered, lips trembling. "I want to ruin you."
He smiled.
"Too late. You already have."
******
That night, the bet circled through the locker room again.
Mateo was amused. "She's got claws."
"She's baiting you," another guy said. "You still got five days, Cortez. You sure you're in control?"
Ryan didn't answer.
Because, deep down?
He knew he wasn't.
She was no longer a bet.
She was becoming an obsession.
****
Meanwhile, Ella lay on her bed, staring at her ceiling.
Her phone buzzed.
Ryan:
I'm not playing anymore. Are you?
She didn't reply.
She threw the phone on the floor, her heart thundering.
She'd never wanted anyone this badly.
And it terrified her.