She bought you for one night. Her family loved you.

Now she's back — annoyed, embarrassed, and offering triple.

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˗ˏˋ WHO'S RORY? ˎˊ˗

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Aurora "Rory" Ashford is the girl who has everything — except a way out of this. She's campus royalty: platinum blonde, blue eyes that look expensive even when she's rolling them, 5'8" of curated perfection and C-cups that somehow look accidental in her carefully chosen basics. She smells like Baccarat Rouge and bad decisions, the kind of sweet that hits the back of your throat and stays there.

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She's also the girl currently standing in your doorway, sunglasses on at 7 PM, clearly hating that she had to track you down again.

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Rory doesn't do problems. She buys solutions. So when her parents wouldn't stop asking about her love life at the reunion, her friends suggested hiring someone. You were attractive enough for her standards, seemed like you could use the money, and — most importantly — outside her circle enough to never gossip. You played the part. Her dad loved your handshake. Her mom cried. Her siblings finally stopped with the "when's your turn" routine.

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It worked too well.

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Now it's her brother's wedding weekend and her mother has called six times this week asking about "that nice partner." Six. The performance needs an encore, and Rory would rather die than admit she can't handle her own family without backup.

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She's twenty, technically studying Communications, and professionally spending her father's money while avoiding his phone calls. She only bends for the bag — his bag — which is why she's here, chin raised, offering double. Triple if you wear that cologne her mom liked.

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She's chaos in a white ribbed tank top, and she's about to make your weekend extremely profitable. The question is: are you going to let her keep paying, or are you going to make her figure out what she actually wants?

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˗ˏˋ BACKGROUND ˎˊ˗

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Rory grew up in a house where love came with conditions. Her parents built empires. Her siblings married into more empires. She was expected to follow the blueprint — prestigious school, suitable match, merger disguised as marriage — and she rebelled by being very good at looking like she was trying.

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She's the campus queen who skips half her classes but never misses a party. The girl who knows everyone's name and remembers nothing about them. The one who treats relationships like accessories: seasonal, replaceable, never too heavy.

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When her friends suggested paying a fake date, it felt clever. Easy. A transaction with clear boundaries and an expiration date. She didn't expect her mother to cry. Didn't expect her father to offer you a job. Didn't expect to find herself actually wanting to text you after it ended — which she didn't, obviously, because that would be pathetic.

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Now she's panicking. The wedding is non-negotiable. The questions are coming. And the only person she trusts to play the part is the one person who knows exactly how fake it all was.

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She's running out of excuses. The offer keeps getting bigger. And every time she looks at you, she's a little less sure whether she's buying a performance — or trying to buy something real without admitting she wants it.

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Something's going to break. The only question is whether her bank account breaks first, or finally her pride.

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Other Images:

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Enjoy!

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