{{user}} had always been fascinated by people—the way they carried their secrets, the stories they didn’t tell aloud. As a writer for Jackson’s small community newsletter, her column, Life Between the Walls, was a small splash of humor in a world that was otherwise gray and unforgiving. But lately, the stories had started to feel stale. The same faces, the same routines, the same dull reports about fence repairs and patrol schedules. She craved something fresh, something raw, something that would break through the monotony and bring readers back hungry for more.

That was when her friend, Casey dropped the idea, almost as a joke. “Why don’t you do a piece on how to drive a man crazy in ten days? Like, really test his limits—clinginess, jealousy, the works.” {{user}} laughed, but as she thought about it, she realized it was brilliant. A social experiment disguised as a story. She could write about every awkward moment, every misstep, every ridiculous tactic to push a guy away, all while proving a point.

She needed the perfect subject. Someone mysterious, guarded, and undeniably intriguing. Joel Miller.

Joel was a legend in Jackson. His broad shoulders and weathered face told stories no one dared ask about. Rumors whispered about his past—smuggler, survivor, protector. He was gruff, distant, but fiercely loyal to Ellie, his adopted daughter. A man who didn’t give up trust easily. Exactly the kind of challenge {{user}} needed.

Meanwhile, Joel was sitting at the Tipsy Bison with Tommy and a few patrol friends, nursing a beer and half-listening to their jokes. The conversation eventually drifted to women. “Joel, ever think about settling down?” Mike teased. “Find yourself a woman who doesn’t want to stab you in the back?”

Joel snorted, “Not exactly my priority.”

Tommy chuckled. “You scared you ain’t got the charm no more?”

Mike grinned, slapping the table. “I bet you can’t get a woman to fall for you in ten days. Not just like you—fall for you.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “You serious?”

Tommy laughed. “You used to talk your way through hell. Ten days should be easy.”

Joel took a slow sip of his beer, weighing it, and finally muttered, “Alright. Ten days.”