Signed, Sealed, Delivered
Chapter five
Aurora Driscoll
By the time I get home from rehearsals, it’s almost ten at night.
I trudge into the living room, surprised to see Saylor awake.
She’s cocooned in blankets on the couch, a spoon tucked into a jar of crunchy peanut butter.
Her eyes are trained on the TV, which is playing what looks to be a documentary about sharks.
A great white breaches through the waves while a man drones on about how much power it takes to propel their giant bodies.
“What are you doing up so late?” I ask, startling her.
She turns her head toward me, and in the light of the TV, I notice something off about her.
Her hair is in a messy bun when it’s usually in a sleek style, and I could be seeing things, but I think her eyes are puffy.
I glance around for my other roommates, but if they knew something was wrong, they’d be here.
Last I heard, they were both out with their boyfriends tonight.
“It’s Friday,” she mumbles. “I can stay up late on Fridays.”
I raise a brow. “You’re an adult, you can stay up late every day of the week if you want. But you rarely do.”
She huffs and digs her spoon into the peanut butter.
“I’ve decided to be more adventurous. Live life on the edge.”
“Peanut butter and shark documentaries. What a daredevil you’ve become,” I reply wryly, then pull out my phone to check our shared calendar. Maybe she had a test today that went poorly.
What I see in the color-coded app is much worse than a bad test, though.
“You had a date,” I voice.
She scowls down at the peanut butter jar, poking her spoon around without taking a bite.
“I was supposed to have a date, yes. But I went to the quad and waited for thirty minutes, only for the guy not to show. Do you know how many flashcards I could study in thirty minutes?” she exclaims. I shake my head.
“A lot. I carved out so much time to see the movie he suggested, only for him to not show and block me on Love Birds.”
I sigh. Talking about guys and dating is not my thing. Emotions in general are not something I delve into very often, but Saylor is my friend, and I care about her. So as much as I’d like to shower and crawl into bed, I go and sit by her on the couch instead.
“That sucks,” I offer, because I don’t know what else to say. “He’s an idiot.”
“He’s pre-med and graduated top of his high school class,” she mumbles around a spoonful of peanut butter.
“I stand by my statement.”
Her laugh makes my lips tug up in a small smile.
“Why is this so hard? I mean, I didn’t expect to find my husband on the first date, but I also didn’t think I’d go through this many duds.”
During our first semester, Saylor informed all of us roommates that she plans on finding her husband before college is over.
She thinks that her likelihood of finding one after college—during med school and residency—is slim.
I’m pretty sure she has a graph somewhere about it.
And over the summer, she decided it was time to put action to her plan, so she got an account on Love Birds and has been going out on dates whenever she can fit them into her insanely busy schedule.
“Don’t ask me. The only guys I talk to are my dad and brother.”
“And Hayes Rosewood,” Saylor says with a grin. “Did you talk to him today? When’s your first tutoring session?” She says tutoring session the same way someone would say secret rendezvous.
“We exchanged information, and he sent me a contract,” I reply. Then, because I know she’ll enjoy it, I add, “He put his number in my phone under Prince Charming.”
Saylor throws her head back laughing. “He did not.”
“He did. And he won’t stop making royalty jokes; it’s obnoxious. But money is money. So I’m going to sign the contract and take it. I read it earlier in between class and rehearsal. It said he’s going to give me $20,000 up front, the rest after he passes.”
Saylor’s eyes bug out of her head.
“That’s insane. Wouldn’t that cover everything you need already?”
I shrug. “Pretty much. I certainly won’t have to worry about anything for the rest of the semester. And if I help him pass … I mean, I’m set up to be debt-free right out of college.”
My roommate’s expression turns dreamy. “What a life. I wish I were in tech, so I could tutor him. Almost every doctor I’ve talked to during my internship says that they still haven’t paid off med school. I think only the really old ones have.”
I laugh a little at the last part of her sentence.
“Though I think I’d tutor him for free just to stare at him,” Saylor adds with a smirk.
I shake my head. “You haven’t spent any time around him. You’d change your mind real fast. I’m not even sure if a hundred thousand is enough. I probably should have asked for more.”
Saylor laughs. “From what I hear, all he does is flirt with you. I’m here eating peanut butter out of the jar because I can’t even get a guy to go out with me. I think I’d take the risk of being annoyed.”
My lips twitch. “Fair enough. But trust me, you don’t want anything to do with him. He doesn’t have a responsible bone in his body.”
Saylor has said on more than one occasion that stability is one of her top priorities in a husband. Her dad left her when she was young, so she wants to make sure to avoid anyone flighty.
“True,” she concedes. “But he’s very pretty.”
A laugh escapes me. Most guys would hate being called pretty, but I have a feeling Hayes wouldn’t mind. He eats up attention like it’s his favorite food.
“I should go to bed,” Saylor sighs into her jar. “I’m going to regret this tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I should go shower.” I get up off the couch with a soft groan as my muscles protest the movement.
“Hey, Aurora?” Saylor calls out as I get close to my bedroom door. I glance over my shoulder. “Thanks. I needed that chat.”
I try to think of a not-awkward response and settle on “No problem.”
Then I head into my room before she can say anything else. As soon as I’m inside, I grab my laptop off the end of my bed and open it. There’s no sense in putting it off. If I do, I might change my mind, and while staying away from Hayes is good for my sanity, it’s not good for my bank account.
After one last read-through of the simple contract, I sign my name at the bottom and hit submit with my heart in my throat. Seconds later, my phone buzzes.
Prince Charming: How was rehearsal?
I eye the text thread warily. This feels like a trap.
Aurora: Fine.
Prince Charming: You aren’t going to ask me how my day was?
Aurora: Why would I do that?
Prince Charming: Because it’s polite. And here I thought princesses were trained to be well-mannered.
I roll my eyes before typing a reply.
Aurora: What do you want, Hayes? I signed your contract. I’ll look over your schedule tomorrow and pick a date to meet.
Hayes: If I said I want you, would you void our contract?
Aurora: Probably.
Hayes: The fact that you didn’t answer with a definite is all too tempting, but I’m holding back just in case.
“Ridiculous,” I mutter, even though I can feel my lips trying to turn up in a smile.
As I’m deciding whether to reply or not, he sends another message.
Hayes: Gotta go win a fight. See you soon, Princess.
I lock my phone and get ready for bed, all the while trying to ignore the odd feeling swirling in my stomach. One that makes me worry I just signed away far more than a few hours of my life.