CHAPTER 4

But Ethan won't. He won't give in. He won't give him that satisfaction, give him something else to hold over him. His head doesn't need to get bigger than it already is. He's too damn sure of himself in everything he does. Someone needs to knock him down a peg or two.

Ethan wishes it could be him.

He shakes out his muscles, rolls his neck, and stalks to the sparring ring, Oliver hot on his heels. He ducks under the ropes as he hops over and stretches his arms across his chest, then behind his back. Ethan yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. It's soaked with sweat from his run and will be more of a hindrance while they're sparring, sticking to his skin and making it easier for Oliver to grab him.

Oliver crouches into a starting position, but Ethan launches at him without waiting for an acknowledgment that he's ready. He needs to get his hits on him in and let the frustration and annoyance out before Oliver has a chance to take him down.

Of course, Ethan once again overestimates himself and underestimates Oliver.

He gets one hit in, square on his jaw. But Oliver gets the upper hand on him-getting him in a chokehold in seconds and taking him to the mat. Ethan squirms and fights against him, but there is just no point. He has him pinned.

Ethan swears there's smoke coming from his ears as he taps the mat, and Oliver releases him. He hops up to his feet and shakes the loss off.

“You’re a little slow today,” Oliver remarks, cocking his head to one side.

“I’m still warming up!” Ethan snaps and then pounces for him again.

Fists fly, hits are blocked, neither yielding nor getting a hit in. Or not physical hits, anyway.

"Maybe you should put in extra hours at the gym instead of trying to get laid so much," he says, lips twitching.

“Maybe you should try to get laid instead of making ridiculous bets with everyone all the time.”

Oliver’s jaw ticks and he frowns, and Ethan takes his shot, shouldering him in the gut and tackling him to the floor. It’s a cheap move, but in recent years, the mention of his self-imposed commitment-free lifestyle bothers him more than it used to. He doesn’t attempt to get out of Ethan’s hold, though; he just taps the mat, surrendering right away.

They both jump to their feet and square off for their third round. This time, he doesn't let Ethan get the jump on him. He goes straight for the knockout. His fists meet Ethan's body in precise strikes, hitting specific spots on his body he knows will weaken him. Ethan has no time to react or defend himself because Oliver's too damn fast, and in a blink, Ethan's on the mat again, pinned in another chokehold.

“Fuck it, you win!” Ethan gasps and wheezes, and Oliver releases him.

Ethan remains on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, panting and cursing in his head.

“Now, if I remember right, our last remaining bet was that if you broke one of your ‘rules,’ then I get to set you up on a date. An actual date, where you take her to dinner and talk to her and get to know her. A date with no sex at the end of it.”

“Hmph.” Ethan sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, avoiding his eyes.

“Is that correct or not?” he presses.

“It’s right,” Ethan grinds out through clenched teeth.

“Great!” Oliver jumps up and jogs towards their phones. “Here,” he says as he comes back, messing around on Ethan’s and tossing it to him before going to the water station.

Ethan snatches it out of the air and finds he's downloaded the Date-To-Mate app to his phone. The account name is "CookieMonsterBeta," and his entire profile is already filled out with likes and dislikes and everything else the app asks for when you sign up.

"What the fuck is this?" Ethan asks, turning the screen to him.

"Your profile," he responds cool as a cucumber, sipping water from his cup as Ethan glare at him.

Ethan's jaw drops to the floor of the gym. "You made it for me?" He nods. "When?

"Five years ago, when we made the original bet. I've been managing the account on my phone, updating the profile every so often, and finding matches for you, anxiously waiting for this day to arrive." Ethan glares at him, his jaw clenched, his hand in a fist to keep from punching him. "What's the matter? Did I answer the questions wrong?" he asks.

“No, they’re all fucking right!

“So, what’s the problem?

“They’re all correct!” Ethan repeats, and Oliver laughs. “Am I really that much of an open book? And come on, did you have to include that Rapunzel is my favorite Disney princess?”

“Girls love that shit.” Oliver shrugs. “You have several recent matches, but I think Sk244 APP is the one.

Ethan taps on the profile he mentions as Oliver walks into the locker room. He doesn't bother to look at any of it, instead typing out a message to ask her on a date.

"I'm so going to regret this." Ethan sighs, shutting his eyes and hitting send before he can change his mind.

Isabella Carter

Lush evergreen trees sprinkled with snow rush by her as her feet carry her through their midst. The sharp, cold air stings her face. The clean, crisp scent of pine and snow and early morning sun is refreshing and invigorating, encouraging her to keep her pace as she finishes this last leg of her morning run.

Her thighs are burning, but the burn is good, the kind you get from an intense workout, an invigorating run. She has been starting her day this way for years now, since she got serious about her career, and on days she misses it, she can feel a difference in more than just her physical energy.

Isabella crests over the final hill and the large, luxurious craftsman-style corporate residence comes into view, the sprawling lawn holding a fresh dusting of snow, resembling a powdered donut. She quickens her pace, the finish line of her personal race in sight, and lets out a tiny "whoop!" as she reaches the front steps.