Infinite Rebate: I Get Richer Every Time I Spend

Amanda walked toward Lucas without slowing down.

No hesitation. No glance toward her squad. No concern for the thousands of people watching her cross the open floor in the middle of a finals halftime. Every step was deliberate, heels striking the hardwood hard enough to draw eyes even before people fully understood who she was walking to.

Her uniform looked different from the last game.

The skirt sat higher on her thighs, short enough that every movement threatened to make it worse. She adjusted it once as she came closer, not to pull it down, but to keep it exactly where she wanted it. The top was tighter too, stretched across her full chest so firmly that the fabric looked close to giving out. Her breasts pushed against the material with every breath, soft weight forced into a cut that had clearly been chosen for attention rather than comfort.

She had prepared for this.

Not for the routine.

Not for the crowd.

For him.

That body was the reason she led the squad in the first place ~ long legs, narrow waist, heavy chest, and the kind of confidence that made people stare even when they pretended not to. Under the arena lights she looked polished and openly provocative, the exact kind of girl who knew the effect she had and had stopped being subtle about using it.

She stopped in front of Lucas and looked him up and down first, slow, taking her time like the whole building could wait.

"You know," she said, "I gave you my number last game."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "I remember."

"And you never called."

"I’ve been busy."

"Busy." She repeated the word like it had personally insulted her. "Busy enough to embarrass my ex-boyfriend for an entire half. Not busy enough to send one text."

A ripple of laughter moved through the nearest rows. Devon, jogging past toward the bench, nearly tripped over his own feet trying not to lose it completely.

Lucas opened his mouth, already searching for something reasonable ~ new in town, not the type, bad timing, anything that might get him out clean.

Amanda did not wait for it.

"Relax." She pulled her phone free, unlocked it with one thumb, and held it out to him like the matter had already been decided. "This time you’re putting it in yourself. That way there’s no excuse."

Lucas looked at the phone.

Looked at her.

Looked at the thousands of people watching him look at the phone.

There was, he realized, no version of the next ten seconds where he came out ahead.

He took it and typed his number in.

Up close, the tightness of her top was even harder to ignore. The fabric clung to the full shape of her breasts, rising and falling with each calm breath she took while she watched him finish. She stood close enough that the sweet edge of her perfume cut through the arena air, close enough that the bare stretch of her thighs beneath the short skirt stayed in his peripheral vision the whole time.

"There," she said, sliding the phone back into her waistband like nothing unusual had happened. "Was that so hard?"

"You didn’t really give me a choice."

"I never do." She was already turning, ponytail swinging, jogging back toward her squad with the same unbothered confidence she had used to walk over.

"See you after the game, Lucas."

Every cheerleader on the baseline had watched the whole thing.

Pom-poms hung frozen in the air. A couple of them were already leaning into each other, whispering hard before Amanda even made it back to the line. The public nature of it made the moment heavier. She had not just approached Lucas. She had done it in the middle of the floor, in front of both schools, with her ex still standing somewhere in the same building.

Dexter watched too.

For a second his eyes followed her, then he looked away like the sight bored him.

He did not give a fuck about that bitch.

Let her have him.

There were bigger things turning in his head. Somewhere outside the arena, in a parking lot he could picture without needing to see it, something expensive and shiny was supposed to be getting exactly what it deserved. That was the only scoreboard that mattered to him now. Not the chants. Not the score. Not the girl who had walked away from him so easily.

Lucas could keep her.

He could keep the fans, the highlight clips, the sudden fame, all of it.

For years this had been Dexter’s building. His name in people’s mouths. His reputation on the floor. Lucas had stripped that away in the last game, and Dexter fully intended to make sure the trade was not one-sided.

On the Ashford bench, Devon was in no condition to let the moment pass quietly.

He dropped down next to Lucas, grinning so hard it looked painful. "Bro." He shook his head, still staring toward the baseline. "Bro. She just ~ in front of everybody ~"

"I saw it happen," Lucas said. "I was there."

"You didn’t even fight it. You just typed the number in like you were ordering food."

"What was I supposed to do? Run?"

Around them the rest of the bench was already feeding off the chaos. A few teammates clapped Lucas on the back. Somebody else laughed too loud. To them it was simple. Amanda was Dexter’s ex, one of Northlake’s campus beauties, and she had just crossed the floor for Lucas in front of the entire arena. That alone was enough to send the whole sideline into noisy celebration.

Lucas only half-listened.

His eyes had caught another figure in the stands.

Daisy.

She was on her feet, waving both arms, shouting something he could not fully hear over the noise. The second Lucas lifted a hand to wave back, half the people in that same row waved with her like the greeting had been meant for all of them. The section reacted instantly, noise rising again, phones turning toward him.

Lucas kept his eyes on Daisy a second longer, trying to read her face. He could not tell if she was only hyping him or trying to say something else entirely. From that distance, through all the sound, it was impossible to separate one from the other.

Before he could make sense of it, movement near the baseline pulled his attention again.

Amanda had rejoined her squad. As the cheerleaders started shifting into position for the second half, she looked back toward him one last time. A small smile. A clear sign with her phone hand.

She would call.

Then the horn cut through the building, and the second half was ready to begin.

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