Not Daddy Material (Billionaire's Contract Duet 2)

In the top seat, closest to the door, I spotted a raised hand. I peered at the male figure half cloaked in the shadows cast by Professor Garcia’s classroom theatrics. The mystery partner threw me a smile and a wave. Slightly relieved, I returned the seemingly recognizable gesture. However, as I collected my notebook and shoved it in my backpack, prepared to climb to the top of the classroom, I stopped. I remembered where I had seen that smile before. It was Bike Guy. As in, saw me land on my ass in the quad, Bike Guy.

Not wanting to seem thrown by the partnership, I jogged up the stairs and slid into the open seat next to Beau Anderson, my partner for an entire semester.

“Can you believe this? Crazy, huh?” He moved his book bag over to make room for my feet.

Maybe he couldn’t tell I was eyeing him suspiciously, or maybe my happy partner act was working. Didn’t he recognize me as the girl he had plowed down by the quad only two days ago? I wasn’t going to mention it.

“I’m London.” I smiled.

“Yeah. I saw that on the screen.” Beau leaned back in his seat and chewed on the end of his pen. “I’m Beau.”

“I saw that on the screen.”

I jerked as the sarcastic snip fell from my mouth. That was not what I meant to say. Something about this whole scenario was completely unnerving. I wasn’t sure if it was the project, the crappy introduction with Beau, or his apparent amnesia that was bringing out my bitchy side.

My sarcasm didn’t seem to rattle him.

“So, what show do you think we’ll get?” Beau reached for the bill of his hat and spun it so that it was it was facing backward.

“Uh. I have no idea. I hope it’s something halfway interesting. Did you finish the reading over the weekend? The article on how reality shows are contributing to a culture of bullying was really cool.”

“You actually read that?” Beau scoffed. He reached for a Styrofoam cup on the floor and took a sip of something that looked like orange juice.

I tried to keep my heart from sinking. “You didn’t do the reading?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get to it. I had something I was working on for my blog.”

“Wait a minute. That’s how I know you’re name. You’re that blogger guy my roommate told me about. You wrote the senior year bucket list blog.”

“Yeah, that’s me. You read my list?” His voice cracked and I stifled a small giggle.

“I read it. But you can’t possibly expect people to do all of the ideas on your list. Some of the stuff is out there.”

“Honestly, I don’t care if other people do it or not. I’m going to check off every single thing on the list. I made it for myself.”

“Impressive.” Ok, that was intentional sarcasm. Where was all this negativity coming from?

It looked like everyone was paired off and nervously exchanging small talk. I saw Blair and Maggie from one of my other Communication classes in deep discussion. Those two were always together. Professor Garcia and her heavy boots began their ascent to the top of the classroom.

“Here we go. I have your reality shows in my hand.” The colorfully clad woman shook a stack of note cards in her hand. “I’ll walk around and pass them out. It will give us an opportunity to chat a bit.”

Taking two long strides, Professor Garcia landed behind us. “You two get first pick.”

She presented the note cards fanned in a semi-circle, and before I could blink, Beau drew one from the center. He flipped it over in his palm and laughed.

“What is it? Which show?” I took the card from Beau. It felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest.

Over Beau’s sneering laughter, I read the card: Love Match.

“Do you two have any questions?” Professor Garcia chimed in over the shock and awe plaguing us in that moment.

Somehow, I managed to stammer out one. “Is this the dating show where people are supposed to propose at the end of the season?”

“Fasci

nating, isn’t it? It’s one of my all-time favorites.” A wide-eyed Professor Garcia descended on the next unprepared pair of students.

So much for chatting with her and discussing the topic. I turned to Beau, desperately seeking a solution. “Do you think we can trade out or something? I’ve never even seen the show.” I tried to keep my voice low.