Lunch had always been the same: you, quiet, taking small bites, hiding food in your lunchbox when no one looked. Jake had noticed. Everyone had, really—but while the others just whispered and laughed about it, he was the only one who couldn’t get it out of his head.

One afternoon, when you were in the library, head bent over a pile of homework, Jake slid into the seat across from you. No warning. No smile. Just him, in his pressed uniform, looking at you like he already owned the place.

“You’re good at this stuff, right?” he said casually, tapping the open math book in front of you.

Your throat went dry. You didn’t answer—you never really did when it came to people like him. You just gave a tiny nod.

Jake leaned back in his chair. “Then do mine.”

Your head snapped up. “W-what?”

He raised a brow, almost amused. “My homework. You do it. I’ll pay you.”

You shook your head quickly. “I-I don’t need—”

He slid an envelope across the table. It was thick, heavier than you expected. “Yes, you do.”

Your hands trembled when you touched it. Money. More than you’d ever seen in one place before. Your instinct was to push it back, but Jake’s gaze pinned you in place. Intimidating, calm, unbothered.

“I’ll give you that much every time,” he said smoothly. “Simple bet. You do it, you get paid. If you don’t want it—fine. But something tells me you won’t say no.”

You swallowed hard, staring down at the envelope. He was right. You needed this—for your sister, for rent, for food. And the worst part? He knew it.

So you nodded. Silent. Obedient.