Chapter Three — Alex
“So, let me get this straight,” Lori says. “You just need to win seven games? That doesn’t sound too hard.”
“Well, the ‘games’ aren’t easy, Lor,” I say.
“Yeah, but you’re a genius.”
I cough, almost spitting out my orange juice.
“I’m serious, Alex. Didn’t you win the spelling bee when we were little for like five years in a row? And you went to that math olympics —”
“Olympiad,” I say.
“Olympiad, whatever. And you won that, right? The regional title or something?”
“National,” I say.
“Exactly,” she says.
“Thanks,” I say. “But unfortunately — and it hurts me to say this — Callum is pretty smart. He’s one of those smart psychopaths. The ones that become CEOs, you know? He went to MIT for undergrad. Then Yale Law.”
Lori’s mouth drops open in a cartoonish fashion. “What? And he’s rich, too? How is that fair?”
“It’s not.”
“Please don’t tell me he’s good-looking, too.”
I purse my lips together and look down.
“No,” Lori says, incredulous. “So he’s hot, smart, and rich? Why the fuck is he doing these weird little challenges, then?”
“I was thinking about that,” I say. “I think the only possible explanation is that he must get off on it.”
“On what? Playing games?”
“Humiliating women,” I say, my mouth dry.
Lori’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. “Damn. He must have some messed-up childhood trauma or something. Are you sure you can handle this? You can still change your mind, you know.”
“I know,” I say, looking down. I’m playing with a loose string on my jeans and notice my hands are shaking.
I’ve been thinking about this all day, actually.
Why do I want to do this? What good could possibly come of it?
If twenty-nine out of twenty-nine women have failed so far, I’d be foolish to think I’ll be the exception.
Is that it, though? Or is there something else besides the money driving me?
“Well, if anyone’s going to give that bastard a run for his money, it’s you,” Lori says.
I nod and smile weakly, trying to shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.