"Jason's POV"
She thought she could just walk away from me.
Cute.
I watched her leave, still trying to wrap my head around it. Other girls blush if I so much as look their way, but her? She looked at me like I was a virus she didn't want to catch.
Interesting. But I wasn't done with her yet.
My mind flashed back to earlier inside the café, when Hailey dropped our order without sparing me more than a glance. She set the tray down quickly—no extra smile, no lingering glance, no playful look, nothing. Most girls here would've made a show of it, maybe twirling their hair or laughing a little too loudly. But her? She just wanted to get away.
And I couldn't take my eyes off her as she walked away.
Mike caught it instantly. Of course, he would.
"Don't even think about it," he muttered with a grin. "Three wee
ks—that's your max, and we both know it."
I smirked. "You make it sound like a weakness."
"Because it is," he shot back. "You always get bored, no matter who she is. Three weeks, and you're gone."
I leaned back in my chair, eyes fixed on the door she disappeared through. "Maybe I just haven't found the right one yet."
Mike leaned forward, that annoying grin plastered on his face. " "Right one"? Jason, you? Oh Please. You don't do "right ones". You do "flings."
He paused, tilting his head toward the kitchen where she vanished. "But I'll make you a deal. That girl—you date her. And if you last longer than three weeks, I'll admit I was wrong."
I raised a brow. "That's it? That's your bet?"
"That's it," Mike said, grinning wider now. "She's not like the others, man. She won't fall in line. Even if she agrees, I'd bet good money she'll be the one dumping you. She'll chew you up and spit you out in a week."
I let a slow smile spread across my face. "Challenge accepted."
Three weeks. That was all anyone thought I was good for.
Hailey was about to change that.
…Or so I thought.
After following her outside and getting flat-out rejected, things weren't looking so simple.
I turned toward the parking lot, and of course, Mike was there—laughing his ass off.
"What's so funny?" I asked flatly.
"Oh, nothing," he said between gasps of laughter. "Man, I wish I had recorded that. I would have gone viral by now, might as well make some cash at your expense, cos boy, people would watch that little drama over and over again"
I ignored him and kept walking, but he wasn't done.
"Oiiii, Mr. Jason!" he called out, jogging after me like some desperate reporter who just uncovered a political scandal. "A moment please, I need your comment for the press release —how does it feel to experience your first ever rejection, Mr Jason? "
I shot him a dead stare. Silence. That was my answer.
Mike, naturally, laughed harder.
"Guess it's safe to say you've already lost the bet," he teased, still struggling to breathe through his laughter.
I sighed, finally turning to face him. "Don't get ahead of yourself. She's just… different. She needs a little more persuasion."
"Persuasion?" Mike snorted. "Please. You mean she's the first girl who hasn't thrown herself at you. Admit it Jay—you've finally met your match."
I sighed and kept walking pressing my remote car keys until the headlights blinked to life.
"You're not riding with me," I muttered coldly, slipping into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut.
Mike gestured dramatically for me to unlock the door. I didn't. The engine roared to life, and I drove off without a second glance.
Honestly, I didn't expect things to go like that. Some girls play hard to get, I knew the signs. But her? She felt ... different, She wasn't playing, like she genuinely didn't care what I had to say.
And I hated how much that got under my skin.
Mike's words kept replaying in my head. He meant them as a joke, but they stuck:
"She'll chew you up and spit you out in a week."
I gripped the steering wheel tighter.
A plan was already forming in my mind.
Step one: Don't rush. Girls like Hailey—the ones with walls built and stacked so high—you don't bulldoze through them. You chip away. Slowly. A smile here. A teasing remark there. Little gestures, little disruptions that get under her skin—until she's thinking about me even when she swears she's not.
Step two: Find her soft spots. Everyone has them. A favorite book. A hidden dream. A weakness for someone who listens. I'd watch. I'd listen. I'd be exactly what she didn't know she wanted.
And then, when her guard slipped—even just a little—I'd be there to catch her.
By then, it wouldn't be a bet anymore.
It would be inevitable.
But first, I had to see her again.
No way I was letting this go.
The bet with Mike? Sure, that started as a joke.
But now?
Now, it was personal.
I was going to win.
Not just the bet.
Her.