Back in my "purest" era, I kept the school’s brooding, poverty-stricken heartthrob on a retainer for ten bucks a week. I paid him his wages like a stingy accountant. Holding hands: Two dollars. A hug: Three dollars. A kiss: Five dollars. Until one day, just as I was graciously slapping a handful of quarters into his palm, a translucent chat window floated across my vision like a Twitch stream gone rogue: [User_69: LMAO poor girl doesn't know the Male Lead is scamming her. His family could literally buy a private jet.] [Simp_Detector: Honestly? She’s not losing out. She’s cannon fodder, sure, but she got a taste of the goods. If I transmigrated in, I’d take a bite before the Heroine shows up too.] [Mommy_Issues: Go home, girl. It hurts to watch. You have fifteen bucks in your pocket and you're giving him ten?] [Plot_Twist: Once the Heroine transfers in, he won’t need this girl as a human shield anymore. Cut your losses, sis.] [Burger_King: For real, that money won’t even buy him a breakfast burrito...] The next second, I stared at the man’s cold, sculpted profile and gulped. Hard. Cut my losses? If he’s that rich... Getting a free meal out of this shouldn't be a problem, right? 01 My hand, still clutching the quarters, tightened into a fist. I hung my head. Luke Sterling, wearing his usual expression of detached indifference, paused. He looked down at me. "What’s wrong, Jo?" I squeezed the coins so hard they hurt. I swallowed, my brain scrambling for a way to open a line of credit. Suddenly, Luke pushed his hand against my fist, gently shoving it back toward me. "Are you broke again?" "I told you," he sighed, "if you don't have the money, don't..." I looked up, eyes wide and pathetic, cutting him off. "But if I don't pay, I can't touch you." "Besides," I puffed out my chest, "I’m your Sugar Mommy. I can afford this much!" I stiffly extended my hand again. This move is called "retreating to advance." Clearly, this sheltered rich boy knew nothing about the sinister nature of humanity. He sighed. "Forget it. Put it on my tab." Suppressing a maniacal grin, I threw myself onto him. "Now satisfy me, babe." Luke’s pale ears turned beet red instantly. He was always like this—never initiating, never refusing. His eyes closed, lashes trembling slightly. His moist, thin lips pressed into a line, like he was enduring some great torture. But God help me, I loved this "I sell my art, not my body" martyr act. It gave me the thrill of a corrupt aristocrat tossing gold bars at a fallen noble. Even if I was technically freeloading. After a particularly enthusiastic make-out session, my brain short-circuited, and I blurted out: "Just yield to me already." 02 I realized my mistake immediately. I met Luke’s gaze awkwardly. The corners of his eyes were flushed red. He stared at me intensely. "Jo, you..." "I-I was just kidding! I know you have standards." "Besides, I haven't saved up enough money for that yet. Just talking trash, don't take it to heart." My attempt at damage control didn't seem to cheer him up. His eyes darkened, but he didn't say anything. I didn't care about his mood. I cared about his abs. My hand slipped under his shirt, sliding down until I hit those distinct, scorching ridges of muscle. Luke bit his lip and let out a soft gasp. My heart hammered against my ribs. My head spun. He was a masterpiece. Even his breathing sounded expensive. Suddenly, Luke asked, "Do you like me that much... do you just want to touch me?" I replied without hesitation. "I like it." Who doesn't like groping a hot guy? The simple answer made the corners of Luke’s mouth twitch upward. Since this was my last free trial, I went all out. When we finished, I walked him back to his "shabby" rental apartment, feeling thoroughly satisfied. Maybe because I looked too happy about scoring a freebie, Luke didn't go inside immediately. He stood in the doorway, staring at me. Or rather, staring at the coins in my hand. "You kissed me five times, hugged me for thirty minutes, and touched my abs three times. That’s a total of $85." "Remember to pay me next time." My heart cramped. I shoved him toward the door, spewing nonsense. "I know, babe!" "Times are tough, but next time. Definitely next time." "You know what they say—behind every successful woman is a man she owes money to. You’re the best!" I fled before he could do the math. Back in my room, I shoved the quarters back into my Hello Kitty piggy bank. Are you kidding me? School starts in a week. The Heroine is dropping soon. Mr. Moneybags will forget about that $85 in no time. If he’s actually rich, he wouldn’t be this petty... right? Meanwhile, the chat floating in the air was going nuts: [Sherlock_Homie: Wait, I remember Jo has at least $85 in her stash. Why is she crying poor?] [Zen_Master: Wait... look at that smirk. I get it now. She’s trying to dine and dash!] [Girl_Boss: Trying to scam the Male Lead? She’s got guts. Respect.] [Plot_Armor: Honestly, with the Heroine showing up soon, she might actually get away with this heist...] [NPC_Energy: She might not be the smartest NPC, but she is definitely the horniest.] I huffed at the comments. So tasteless. Look in my eyes! What is life if not for lust? 03 In the week following my decision to ghost my "sugar baby," I channeled my grief into working three part-time jobs. My savings grew. My lust for Luke faded. But weirdly, he kept messaging me. It was forced conversation. Before, unless I explicitly ordered a cuddle session, he would reply with single punctuation marks. Today, I was busy shaking boba tea. His text popped up. [Luke: What are you doing?] Boring. I didn't want to reply. But I remembered his face. I typed fast: [Shaking boba.] He replied: [?] Clearly, the Young Master was going through withdrawal. I have a script for men like this. [I’m working hard to earn money so I can touch you again, babe.] [Wait for me. Once I’m rich, I’m coming for you!] He typed for a solid three minutes. Finally, a single word: [Mn.] I nodded. Good. He’s normal again. But I had doubts about the chat’s spoilers. Shouldn't he be meeting the Heroine by now? Why does he have the energy to pester me? I hope he doesn't remember the $85. That night, after my shift, I witnessed a classic "Hero Saves Beauty" scene on the street corner. Starring Luke Sterling. A girl in a white dress, looking like a fragile flower, was clutching the hem of his shirt, tears shimmering in her eyes. I couldn't help but whisper, "Wow." This is the flavor! This is the plot! That has to be the Heroine. 04 Hearing my "Wow," Luke looked up and saw me. I shrank back. Then I turned and ran. I ran faster than the stray dog that hangs out by the dumpsters when the butcher drops a bone. I couldn't ruin his meet-cute with the Heroine. If he held a grudge, he might ask for the money back. As I sprinted home, the chat lit up again: [Romance_Reader: That scene was supposed to be romantic, but Jo turned it into a sitcom. It’s a talent, really.] [Fast_And_Furious: LMAO she bolted. Leaving the main couple confused in the wind.] [Sonic: Look at her go. She’s blurring.] [Career_Advice: With that speed, she should do DoorDash. More money than boba.] I nodded in agreement. They made a good point. My next job was decided—DoorDash. But some of the comments started arguing. [Drama_Queen: Did anyone see Luke’s face looking at her back? He looked heartbroken. I ship it.] [Canon_Police: Upstairs, are you okay? Jo is broke, stingy, and horny. How is she better than our sweet, soft Heroine? The Male Lead is just toying with her.] [Multishipper: I ship everything. Leave me alone.] [Warning_Sign: I can’t stop you, but if this girl keeps blocking the plot, the Narrative is going to punish her.] The chat started filling with insults directed at me. Whatever. My stepdad’s verbal abuse had maxed out my resistance stats years ago. I’ve survived Twitter cancelations with zero followers. Insults go in one ear and out the other. But one thing stuck. The Narrative is going to punish her.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "387183", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel