Win Win

Addison Phelps is not my boyfriend.

And as much as I would like him to hold my hand and whisper how lovely I look with bed-hair, the chances of that happening are less than me bumping into a dinosaur.

His dark hair shines perfectly in the fluorescent lighting all the fucking time and he’s so gorgeous that even my little brother, Keefe, styles his hair to look just like Addison’s. He’s on the football team, of course, and his family is extremely talented, gorgeous and rich that their gene pool is probably flawless.

“Mind-rape much?” I hear a deep voice comment.

I turn around and stare up at Willem Lombardi’s 6’2’ frame. I jerk back, glancing down at his full body, my eyes resting on the grease stain just above his pants zipper. I immediately look away, knowing that he’s seen me looking.

He winks, like the ignorant asshole he is, and slides next to me on the bench. “Fuck off delinquent. I don’t want one of God’s mistakes hanging around me.” Not the best comeback I’ve had. Clearly.

“Ouch, you really got me there. Heal my burning heart, will you?” Willem counters, pointing innocently to his lips and pouting.

“Heads up!” A faint voice says. I ignore it.

I raise my finger in protest, but before any words tumble out of my mouth, Willem’s hand yanks in front of me and catches a Frisbee in midair, about to basically cut my head off. I stare in front of me in shock, but Willem smirks and throws the Frisbee back. “Do you know what heads up means?” He asks sarcastically.

“Fuck off.”

Chuckling, Willem brushes his light brown hair out of his eyes. “No sense of gratitude whatsoever? Wow. No wonder you were sitting on a bench. Alone. With bed-hair. Stalking someone.”

Disregarding him, I continue to stare at Addison, taking in every part of his physique. His crisp white shirt fits just right around his toned chest and his arm muscles flex whenever-

“So how’s that uncle of your doing, Finnegan?” Willem says, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. I wince from the smoke rising from his mouth.

“Fine.” My uncle is Seamus O’Driscol, the famous music producer, hailing from New Jersey and known as the guy who has the gold tooth. He’s produced a bunch of stars, and Willem wants to be one of them-except my little brothers are too stubborn to share the family pride with a stupid Lombardi and I don’t even want to go within a mile with this creature. But he’s persistent.

He laughs deeply, and before I can escape, his hand trickles on my knee and goes up farther. I grab it, but he doesn’t let go of my leg. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He smirks. “That’s the problem with you Irish women. You always think the worst n people.” My poker face stays untouched.

“I’ve got a proposition for you, Finn.” His hand stays on my knee, and even when I pinch him to get it off, it still stays on. He takes my silence as an excuse to talk further.

“It’s senior year, and I’m going fucking nowhere, OK? I might go to community college but there’s no respect in that, other than becoming some manager at Meat and Greet, and Tiergan isn’t budging and I can’t ask Keefe. So I need to turn to you.”

My mouth gapes open. “This sudden outburst on how much your life sucks is very inspirational, believe me, but I have better things to do than to listen to you whine about how much you don’t want to flip burgers at a fast food restaurant.” I stand up to leave, but Willem grabs my arm and pulls me back down.

“The managers don’t do the flipping, mind you. They have a respectable office. Plus, you haven’t heard what I’m about to say yet.” There’s a sinister yet desperate look in his eyes, which makes me sit right back down.

“Hurry up, I haven’t got all day.” I snap. He rolls his eyes.

“Finn, quit lying to yourself, you do have all day-”

I fold my arms in front of my chest and interrupt him. “Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to say here, but if you don’t spit it out in the next minute, I’m leaving.” Willem responds with a tired sigh and gazes at me for a few seconds before he starts to talk again.

“Are you finished with the interrupting?” He asks. I slightly nod.

“I know you’d like to get fucked senseless by Addison-”

“That’s disgusting! You’re such a perv-”

“Holy fuck! What the hell is wrong with your family? Keefe and Tiergan are just like you! They won’t let anyone get a single word out of their mouth without breaking them off like a smartass! Will you let me finish, O’Driscol?” He retorts. I feel my neck go red. I nod at him and he sighs.

“Just let your Uncle Seamus listen to one of my songs, just one, please, and I promise that I will help you get a date, go to prom, have a one night stand, share a goldfish, do whatever with Addison.”

My mouth drops open again. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Lombardi? You think you know how he,” I gesture towards Addison, “likes his girls?”

A deep and throaty laugh escapes from his stomach. “Stop speaking like a pimp, alright? And that’s not the question Finn. Do we have a deal or not? I’ll help you go to prom with Addison if you let your dear uncle listen to my band.”

I don’t know why my immediate reaction in my mind is yes! Oh yes! A million times yes! Maybe it’s because Addison looks so good in his shirt or Willem looks so desperate or that my best friend Lani moved away and my little twin brothers don’t really care about me (but I care about them, a lot) or maybe it’s because when his hand went up my leg and I looked into his eyes I thought that maybe even Willem Lombardi deserved a second chance at life.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes for a second, mumble a silent prayer, and open my eyes back up again to see Willem looking at me like I’m a lunatic. I cross my arms over my chest.

“Yes, we have a deal.”