Revenge with Benefits (Straight College Jocks #1)

Chapter 1

The mall is a nightmare two weeks before Christmas, but here I am anyway, dodging aggressive grandmas with their wheeled shopping bags and couples arguing over sweater colors. The whole place smells like cinnamon, and the constant onslaught of holiday music is giving me a headache.

I finally make it to Brightstone Jewelers, and the woman behind the counter gives me an overly enthusiastic smile. “How can I help you, hon?”

“I’m here to pick up an order,” I say, fumbling in my jacket for my receipt. “Under the name Finn Anderson. There should be a bracelet.”

“One moment, please, while I check our system.” She flashes her red-lipstick smile.

Her name tag says “Deb,” and she’s wearing about six different Christmas pins on her blazer. She moves to the computer like she’s got all the time in the world, typing with her manicured index fingers while humming along to “Silver Bells.”

Three hundred dollars. That’s what I dropped on this bracelet.

My campus job delivering food barely covers my part of the rent, but Brittany talked about this bracelet nonstop after she saw it on the store website.

It’s a shitload of money for me, but we’ve been dating for three months now, and Christmas felt like the right time to go big. Show her I’m serious about this.

Another dude steps up to the counter while Deb searches for my order. College-aged like me, wearing a black hoodie and a baseball cap.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment, darling,” Deb tells him without looking up.

“No problem. Just picking up an order.”

“Anderson… Anderson…” Deb mutters, squinting at the screen through her rhinestone-encrusted reading glasses. “Oh yes! Here we are. One rose gold bracelet with diamond accents.” She taps the screen. “Pretty piece. Let me get this from the safe for you, hon. Just a moment, please.”

The guy next to me glances over. “Nice. Christmas gift?”

“Yeah. Girlfriend.”

“Same. Getting a necklace for her.”

“Let me guess. She sent you like twenty screenshots so you wouldn’t mess it up.”

He laughs. “Pretty much. How much did that run you, if you don’t mind?”

“Three hundred.”

“Shit. Four fifty for mine.”

I whistle. “Damn. I was already thinking about eating ramen until January.”

“Right? But hey, she loves the piece, so… I figure it’s worth it.”

“Yeah, same. Christmas only comes once a year, right?”

Deb finally finds my order in the back and returns with a small black box. She opens it carefully, laying a soft cloth across the glass countertop before placing the bracelet on it. “Oh, isn’t she gorgeous? Your girlfriend has excellent taste.”

It looks exactly like the one Brittany showed me on her phone a dozen times. The rose gold catches the store lights, and yeah, I can see why she’s so obsessed with it.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped, honey?” Deb asks, already pulling out the wrapping paper.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“And who’s the lucky lady?” she asks, pulling out a gift tag.

“Brittany,” I say.

The guy next to me perks up. “No way, dude. My girlfriend’s name is Brittany too.”

I let out a short laugh. “Seriously? What are the odds?”

Deb starts working on the wrapping paper, creasing each fold with her finger like she’s making origami. Every piece of tape lands in the exact right spot. She’s clearly done this a thousand times.

“Both of us dating Brittanys with expensive taste,” the guy says. “We should start a support group.”

“I’m down,” I say, chuckling.

“What’s next? She’s a cheerleader too?”

My smile falters. “She is.”

“Holy fuck,” he says, then catches himself. “Sorry,” he adds to Deb, who’s busy shaping a perfect bow out of ribbon. “This is getting weird.”

“Wait, you’re not serious—”

“Dead serious. She cheers for State.”

“Mine too.” I feel a knot start to tighten in my stomach. “But I mean, there are a lot of girls on the team. I think there’s like thirty.”

“Yeah, lots of Brittanys apparently,” he says, though he doesn’t sound convinced either.

Something feels off. I turn to Deb. “Hey, could you grab his order too? The necklace.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” She looks at the guy. “What was the name?”

“Chase,” he says. “Chase Morgan.”

Deb’s eyebrows pull together as she checks the screen. “Let’s see… Morgan… Morgan…” Then she disappears into the back and returns with another black box, a little bigger than mine.

“Here we are.” She pops it open and lays the necklace carefully next to my bracelet. The rose gold catches the light. “Oh! They’re from the same set. What a coincidence.”

My mouth goes dry.

“What’s your Brittany’s last name?” Chase asks quietly.

“Foster,” I say. My whole body feels like I’ve just been dropped into ice water. “Yours?”

“Foster.”

We stare at each other. The Christmas music keeps playing. Someone a few counters over laughs, and the sound echoes across the store.

Deb looks between us, then at the jewelry, then back at us.

She clutches her pearl necklace with one hand.

“Oh dear. Oh my goodness. In thirty years of retail, I’ve never…

” She clears her throat, then pats the counter gently.

“Well. The good news is these are still within the return window. Brightstone gives thirty days on fine jewelry.”

Chase sits across from me, both of his big hands wrapped around a coffee cup at the mall’s food court, though he’s not drinking it. The bracelet and necklace sit in their boxes on the table between us. We thought about returning them, but neither of us could bring ourselves to.

“So what the fuck, man?” he says.

“Yeah.” I stare at my cappuccino. The barista made a Christmas tree in the foam, and it’s starting to melt. “What the actual fuck.”

“How long have you been dating her?”

“Three months. You?”

“Since September.” He shakes his head. “So about the same. We met at one of my games. Said she’d never dated a football player before.”

“She told me she was tired of jocks,” I say. “Wanted someone more… artistic.”

Chase lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Man, I feel like such an idiot.”

“Yeah. Me too.” I rub the back of my neck. “Last night she was at my place, being all sweet, talking about how excited she was for our first Christmas together.”

“She told me she was helping her roommate through a crisis yesterday.”

“Nope. She was literally in my bed watching some shitty romcom.”

“Jesus.”

I see the fire in his eyes. Looking at him properly, I can see why Brittany went for him.

Dark hair peeks from under his baseball cap, broad shoulders, and an intense look that girls probably eat up.

The guy’s handsome, I can admit that. Objectively, he’s probably got me beat in the looks department.

There’s a voice in the back of my head saying if Brittany had to choose, she’d pick him.

But that’s stupid. There is no choosing. This is over.

We talk for a bit, comparing schedules and stories that line up in the worst possible way.

Chase pulls out his phone, and we scroll through our respective text threads with Brittany, finding the same pet names, the same promises, sometimes even the same exact phrases sent to both of us on different days.

“Sorry, man,” I say. “That you had to find out like this.”

“Yeah, well, I’m glad I did. Better now than later, right?” He finally takes a sip of his coffee. “So what now?”

“I don’t know.” I stare at the bracelet box. “Confront her?”

“Obviously.” He leans forward, lowering his voice. “But think about it. If we both do it separately, she’s just going to play us against each other. Tell us the other one is lying.”

“She’ll definitely try that. She’s clearly good at this.” The thought of her smooth, plausible lies makes my stomach turn. “So you want to… do it together?”

“I think that’s our only move.” He has this predatory look in his eyes now, the kind he probably gets on the football field before a big play. “We need to corner her. Show her she can’t talk her way out of this.”

I don’t love the idea. The thought of seeing Chase and Brittany together, seeing her look at him with those big, blue eyes I thought were just for me, makes me want to punch the cheap laminate table.

But he’s right. If I try to handle this alone, she’ll twist things. She’s a pro at that, apparently.

“Okay,” I say. “Together. But when?”

“She’s supposed to come to my place tonight,” he says. “Eight o’clock.” He looks at me, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face. “Why don’t you come too? Bring the bracelet.”