CHAPTER 5 BEN
“You still like making silly bets?” she asks once we’re back at my place and our spread of food is on the table.
She’s holding the paper wrapper in her hand and hasn’t taken a bite yet while I’ve already wolfed down half my burger in two bites—and I ditched the wrapper a while ago as she daintily ate one fry at a time.
I raise a brow at her. “How do you know I like making bets?”
She lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know. You’re around a lot and I guess I pay attention.”
I chuckle, and then a little ping of satisfaction darts through my chest as I watch her take her first bite. Her eyes roll back a little as she gives into the deliciousness. “Yeah. I’m always up for a wager amongst friends. You?”
“I was thinking about this Instagram thing and wondering how we could make it a little more…interesting,” she says. She takes another bite, and the way she looks like she’s in the throes of pleasure as she eats makes my cock twitch. I want to make her pull that same face as I fuck her stupid.
“What are you thinking?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know yet. Maybe something with raising money for the charity we choose.”
“I’ve got an unfair advantage, don’t you think?”
Her brows dip. “Because you’re a celebrity?”
I nod. “Well, yeah.”
“I’ve got three of those at my disposal. I’ll give you your unfair advantage and still beat the pants off you.”
I laugh. “Are those the stakes? Because honestly, we don’t need a bet for me to drop my pants for you, babe.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “No, those are not the stakes.”
“Then what are they?”
“Loser plans a mystery date for the winner.”
I raise a brow. This could go either way. “All right.” I nod. “And how do I win?”
She laughs. “We could keep it simple with whoever raises more money in a given period of time thing.”
“How many followers do you have?” I ask.
“I think around a thousand, but my account is private, so I’d need to build it a little first.”
“I’m nearing two million. A straight whoever raises the most money competition wouldn’t be fair.”
She nods and twists her lips as she thinks.
“Okay, then let’s do something with engagement.
Pretend I have a thousand followers and get three hundred likes on a post. That’s a thirty percent like rate, and maybe we make comments worth more, so if I get twenty comments, that’s a two percent comment rate but we count it as twenty.
Average the two and you’ve got twenty-five for one post. Whoever gets the most engagement over a predetermined period of time once we start this bet wins. ”
My brows dip in confusion. “That sounds like a lot of math.”
“If I’m not working, I could do the math. We could screenshot numbers forty-eight hours after a given post goes up to keep things fair.”
“What if I post more than you, or vice versa?” I ask.
“It would obviously be advantageous to post more often, but it’s up to you how much you want to do it.”
I nod as I squint at her and study her for a beat. “Can I trust you?” I’m being playful even though we just had that serious conversation back in the car about my trust issues.
“Of course you can.” Her eyes meet mine, and she sobers for a second. “I’m not like them, Ben,” she says softly. “I’d never cheat you out of your victory. I’d never cheat on you period.”
Something in her eyes tells me to believe her…but I believed Tatum, too. I believed my mom when she told me the divorce wasn’t her fault. I believed everyone who manipulated me before I grew up enough to see them for who they really were.
And now I’m a little older, a little more jaded, and a whole lot more distrustful.
I take a bite of my burger rather than responding, and she does, too.
“Okay, then.” I nod. “You’ve got yourself a deal. When do you want to start?”
“How about when I move in? That gives us a little under a month to figure out a game plan, stockpile photos, for me to start building my account, and to determine our charity. Plus that will give Ellie a head start on finding sponsorships.”
“I’ve given the charity a little more thought,” I admit.
“Oh?”
I nod. “When we were talking about it yesterday, I got to thinking about my own gym. Your idea sparked something I’ve been considering a while.
I want to initiate a kids’ program. Not a daycare, which is something we already have in place, but something more unique.
Something that includes both physical and social development, that promotes physical but also mental health and fitness.
We’d build confidence and teamwork and sportsmanship skills through research-based, proven activities, and our charity would allow us to offer scholarships to families who can’t afford these types of private programs. I’m thinking something different for every day to keep kids coming back.
Sports fundamentals, stretching, boot camp, dance, yoga, martial arts, kickboxing—with a famous football star popping by upon occasion, of course.
” I flash her a grin. “We could start the program at my gym, make our mistakes, and perfect it before we bring it to a wider community, whether it’s gyms all across America, park districts, or something else we come up with. ”
Her eyes widen with excitement as a smile lights up her whole face. “Oh my God, Ben. I love that idea!”
“Yeah?” I ask, and my smile widens, too.
She nods. “I didn’t know you own a gym, but that’s the perfect place to create and test the program. And since I have a bit of planning background and a passion for this stuff, could I help with the actual programming?”
“Peaches, you could take it on if you want it,” I say, and her excitement is getting me more excited about the idea. “Saves me the hassle of finding someone else to do it.”
“Are you kidding me?” she shrieks. “You’d let me take the whole thing on?”
“Absolutely. It’s yours. I’ll put you in touch with Craig. He’s one of my buddies from high school and he runs my gym, and I’m sure he’d be willing to answer any questions you have.”
She jumps down from the stool at the pub-style kitchen table this place came with and throws her arms around my neck. “This is perfect! It combines my passion for teaching and fitness and kids, and I already have about a zillion ideas.”
I chuckle, and I wrap my arms around her. She squeezes me before she pulls back and presses a hard kiss to my mouth, and then her cheeks turn a little pink as she sits back in her chair and picks up her wrapped burger again. Mine’s long gone, but I pick up my shake and start sucking it down.
“Now that we have our charity, I really want to beat you,” she says. “The more engagement, the more people we’re reaching, and the more people we’re reaching, the more potential sponsorships and therefore money we can pull in to support this cause.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Like you’ve got a shot in hell of beating me.” It’s a clear challenge, and she laughs.
“We’ll see.”
Indeed we will.