“Wait.” He frowned and caught my arm. “Are you serious? Are you…”
My breath held. Thank God he didn’t finish his question. My self-esteem might not survive the hit today. We needed to wrap this up, and I couldn’t afford to waste time explaining my life to him.
“I’m not a prostitute, jerk. Sex isn’t on the table. That’s not what I do. I really have to go.”
His brow knit as uncertainty flashed in his glacial stare. While my job was uncommon, living as a sugar baby remained a very real business—not to be confused with prostitution. Every client needed to fully understand that.
Although Noah would never be my client. Never.
“Avery…” His focus pulled from my body for a split second, but when it returned, his eyes were more challenging than ever. “I’m not looking to be your client or whatever you call it.”
His voice sounded so genuine I instantly relaxed and then he said, “But I’m also not giving up. And trust me, I never have to pay a woman for her time.”
“I don’t have time for charity cases, Noah.”
He laughed. “Avery, you misunderstand. I’ll be the one doing you a favor. Maybe one good, hard fuck would get you out of this bad mood you’ve been in since we met.”
My lips twitched, but I hid a smile. As great as fucking Noah would probably be, it was a can of worms I couldn’t open. My little thrill died as fast as a lone breeze on a still day.
Maybe he thought I was bluffing about actually coming with a price tag. That was better than him not questioning the possibility. But the truth remained, I needed to ruin whatever this was for my own good.
“That’s not going to happen,” I said, priding myself for not allowing my voice to waver. “I told you how it works. You’re not listening—”
“Oh, I heard you. You want me to believe they pay to play. Maybe they do, but I don’t. I’m not buying what you’re selling, so stop with the act. I see you lugging your little backpack up and down the hall as you scurry off to class, looking like an average twenty-something trying to make a future for herself. This…” He brushed a finger over my fake diamond bracelet. “This isn’t you. It’s an act, and I bet you play the part damn well. But you aren’t going to play with me, Avery—not in that way. Maybe you’d smile a little easier if you dated someone for more than their wallet.”
“Maybe I’m only miserable around you.”
“If that’s what you have to tell yourself.”
I wanted to growl and shove him out of my way. “You know what? You don’t know a thing about me or the men I go out with.”
He didn’t have to live a secret life to afford his home. He was almost too upfront, too raw and unfiltered.
He thought my appearance was an act. But he didn’t realize all of it was an act. Avery Johansson wasn’t a college student living a few miles from home. She didn’t exist before I arrived.
“So let me get to know you.”
Noah was the sort of man who wouldn’t rest until he had a puzzle mastered, and I wasn’t going to be a game he played. “No.”
“Why not? Scared?”
I’d never admit that to him. Avery Dean Mudd might have earned a scholarship, but Avery Johansson had been paying her tuition since. The girl I left behind was a piece of trash, and the woman I became didn’t know any more about social graces than she could learn online and by emulating others. It was enough to fool the men I spent a few hours with at a time. I wasn’t sure if I could fool Noah.
“I said no.”
The elevator pinged and my focus pulled to the dial climbing toward our floor. Micah. Time to squelch his little crush once and for all and focus on what mattered, what kept my apartment warm, and my name on the enrollment list.
“Here’s all you need to know. In five seconds, that elevator’s going to open, and a man’s going to step out. He’s sixteen years older than me. He’s going to open doors for me and take me to a fancy party, and I’m going to let him because he pays my rent every month so I can live in this gorgeous building that’s probably a dump compared to where you grew up. He bought my clothes and my jewelry—”