Beat The Bosses' Bet

I never, in a million years, thought the three titans of my lab would get so bored they'd make a bet about me.

The prize was a batch of top-tier, imported lab reagents.

The wager? To see which of them this dirt-poor grad student, who barely scraped her way in, would try to seduce within a month to scrounge for equipment access and funding.

So thats how were playing it? Hard mode?

Fine. Ill see their bet and raise them a full-blown psychological drama, turning their little competition into an all-out war.

Now, they're practically tripping over each other to give me access, approve my funding, and invite me to their projects, the original bet long forgotten.

And me? The former "target" of their wager? Im just sipping the coffee they brought me, watching them fight for my affection.

Honestly, fellas. If youd just been this helpful from the start, we could have avoided all this drama.

My name is Aria, and Im the lab's resident stray.

My advisor, Professor Freeman, is a legend who exists only in the signature of his emails. The most valuable things he ever gave me were my "last-chance admission" status and the sage advice to "be self-reliant."

To graduate, I've honed the art of resource-scrounging to a razor's edge. My skin has thickened accordingly.

The lab's three big shots are my primary targets.

Caden, the cold, brilliant academic, is the gatekeeper of all lab equipment. Want to use a machine? You have to get through an approval process stricter than airport security.

Blake, the walking ATM, controls the lab's finances. A single vial of reagent from his private fridge is worth more than everything I own.

And Noah, the tech wizard, is a professional award-winner. I can't even find the power button on the advanced equipment he builds.

Today, my graduation data hit yet another wall.

I mustered the courage to ask Caden to borrow an instrument, only to be shut down with a curt "I'm using it" and "It needs maintenance."

Then I tried asking Blake for some reagents. He pushed up his glasses, a sly, fox-like grin on his face. "Ah, this one is for core team members only."

The final blow came during the group meeting. Noah, with his typical bluntness, tore my data to shreds in front of everyone, even criticizing the color scheme of my charts.

Once is a coincidence. Twice is an accident. Three times this was a coordinated attack.

It wasn't until I saw an open chat window on a public computer that it all clicked.

[Betting shell come after one of us for resources within a month.]

[Ill put up that batch of imported reagents as the prize.]

[Deal.]

The timestamp was from a week ago.

Well, damn.

And here I thought I was just trying to graduate. Turns out Im the star of a reality show: Love & Lab Coats.

Before discovering this earth-shattering wager, my life in the lab was simple, tedious, and soul-crushing.

My days were more tangled than a kitten's ball of yarn. In the morning, Id get up before dawn to help pack meals in the cafeteria for a free breakfast. Then Id rush to the labs common area to fight for a computer older than I am, constantly oscillating between "It's almost done!" and "It crashed again." At noon, Id choke down a stale, discounted bread roll while sprinting to another campus to work as a teaching assistant, grading an endless mountain of papers. In the afternoon, Id squeeze in experiments back at the lab, my most fervent prayer being, "Please, dear God of machinery, don't break down. I can't afford to fix you." Evenings were spent either bussing tables at a local diner or tutoring kids who would ask, "Teacher, why are you always so sleepy?"

I'd usually stumble back to my dorm late at night, forcing my eyes open to read papers and write reports, often waking up with a jolt after falling asleep at my desk, a page of my draft soaked through. I was a perpetual motion machine, the broke edition, fueled by sheer desperation to graduate and eat.

Chasing a guy? Romance? That was a luxury for people with time, money, and a full head of hair.

We were from different worlds. They floated on clouds, discussing top-tier journals, competitions, and their bright academic futures. I was down in the mud, clawing my way toward a diploma and a job that could ease the burden on my family.

My daily worries were whether my data would run, if I'd be late for my part-time job, and if the cafeteria lady would be generous with her serving spoon. I never imagined that a low-level lab rat like me would become the subject of a bet between the three top dogs.

Does this count as my big break?

After discovering the bet, I spent a solid half-hour doing angry sit-ups on my dorm bed. But anger wasnt going to get me anywhere. I had to get smart.

They wanted to see me chase one of them?

Fine.

Ill show them a "targeted strike" of affection so precise and devastating itll make their experimental data look sloppy.

Three o'clock in the afternoon.

The labs common area was at its busiest. The three big shots were huddled around Noah's computer, staring at a screen of what looked like pure chaossome advanced algorithm, apparently.

I chose my moment and made my grand entrance, carrying a tray of coffees Id spent a small fortune on.

"Hey guys, you're all working so hard! I brought coffee for everyone!" My smile was radiant, projecting the warmth of a loving, supportive colleague.

The background noise of the lab screeched to a halt. You could feel the unspoken question hanging in the air: Aria is treating?

Aria, the girl who could split a penny eight ways and had mastered eighteen different methods of mooching Wi-Fi, was actually buying coffee?

I could read the shock in their eyes. My reputation as the lab's number-one cheapskate was legendary. The last time the senior students went out for a group dinner, I'd successfully escaped paying my share by claiming I had to rush back to "take in my laundry." The time before that, when everyone chipped in for the professor's birthday, my contribution was a handmade card on paper I'd salvaged from the recycling bin.

But I ignored their stunned faces, my gaze locking onto Caden.

In front of everyone, I presented him with the "special order"a hot, black Americano, no sugar, no milk.

"Caden, this one's for you. I remembered you're lactose intolerant, so this should be perfect." My tone was the epitome of casual thoughtfulness.

The air grew thick. Cadens expression was a complex mix of suspicion and confusion.

"You... you bought this?"

I almost broke character. My inner self was screaming. No, I used the power of my sincere gaze to convince the coffee machine to give it to me for free! This cost me two lunches, you fool!

The pain was real.

But on the outside, I lowered my head slightly, my voice soft but with a hint of defiance. "Yeah, I did. You guys are always helping me out. It's the least I could do."

Helping me out by blocking all my resources, you mean! I seethed internally.

Blake pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. "Well, isn't our Aria being unusually... generous. And so thoughtful, too. I guess you're desperate to get your data from that HPLC Caden is guarding?"

Cadens hand, which had been reaching for the coffee, froze. His eyes narrowed, studying my face.

Here we go. The show was on.

In the next second, my eyes welled up. I looked at Blake with wide, "innocent" eyes, my expression a perfect picture of disbelief and hurt.

"You've got it all wrong, Blake." My voice was soft, my gaze pure as the driven snow. "I'll figure out my own data. I can't just expect everyone to take care of me all the time."

I bit my lower lip, then turned to Caden. My eyes now held a perfect blend of sympathy, admiration, and a shy "I understand you" look.

"I saw Caden in the instrument room late last night, calibrating the equipment. He works so hard... I just thought he deserved a little extra care. That's all."

My voice grew quieter, and a faint blush crept up my cheeks for added effect. I had perfectly embodied the image of a secret admirer, too shy to express her feelings but deeply concerned for her senior. I was so convincing, I almost believed it myself.

Caden was clearly thrown by my direct approach. He looked at the coffee in my hand like it was a hot potato, unsure whether to take it.

Was that... a blush creeping up his neck?

He cleared his throat and, under the complicated stares of his two friends, took the coffee. His voice was a little strained. "Thanks for the thought."

Exactly the reaction I wanted.

"You're welcome!" I beamed at him. Then, as if just remembering the other two, I let out a little "Oh!" and offered them the remaining cups. "Blake, Noah, these are for you."

Blake's smile was a bit forced. "How very kind of you, Aria."

Noah just grunted, took a cup, and said nothing.

I pretended not to notice their expressions, but inside, I was cackling.

Men!

They all need the validation of female attention to feel secure in their own charm. They might not be interested in me personally, but with a bet on the line, whoever I "chased" would be the implicit winner.

Oh, the beautifully childish male ego.

Just as I predicted, Blake and Noah exchanged a look that clearly said, So she's going for Caden.

I was screaming internally: You sweet summer children. You have no idea.

Just when they thought I was about to launch a full-scale offensive on Caden, I calmly sat down.

From my worn canvas tote bag, I dug around, and dug around, and dug some more, finally pulling out a wrinkled, 30-cent Snickers bar.

"Here."

I shyly offered the candy bar to Noah. "Noah, you looked a little pale at the last meeting. Maybe low blood sugar. You should keep this handy."

Noah stared at the pathetic-looking Snickers bar as if it had personally offended him. His face was a perfect picture of bewilderment.

Blake and Caden stared at each other, their expressions screaming, "WTF???"

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at their collective confusion.

But as amusing as the drama was, I had bills to pay. To scrape together next semester's housing fees, I had opened up a new front on the battlefield of part-time jobs.

"Mr. Rossi's Diner," a greasy spoon on the street behind campus.

Today was my first day on the job.

Dressed in an oversized uniform left by the previous employee, I was wiping down a table when the bell over the door jingled. I reflexively pasted on my professional smile.

"Welcome t"

The "o" got stuck in my throat.

Oh, crap.

Why in the world were Caden and Blake in a place where the average meal cost less than ten dollars? Weren't they supposed to be at some fancy restaurant discussing molecular gastronomy?

My brain went into red alert. My body reacted faster than my thoughts, and I made a move to dive into the kitchen.

But Blake's radar-like eyes had already locked onto me. He blinked, and then a smug, "Gotcha!" grin spread across his face. He nudged Caden.

Caden turned. The "mere mortals, do not approach" expression on his face cracked when he saw me, clad in a grease-stained apron, precariously balancing a tray.

What are you looking at? Never seen a beautiful woman bussing tables before?

I managed a smile that was uglier than a grimace. "Right this way, gentlemen."

As I led them to a booth, Blake drawled, his voice dripping with mock surprise. "Well, well, Aria? Small world, isn't it? You've certainly got a wide range of talents."

I was mentally rolling my eyes so hard I was afraid they'd get stuck. It's my first day, you jerk!

But I kept the smile plastered on my face. "You're too kind. Life's tough, got to be versatile." I continued my performance, sneaking a shy, embarrassed glance at Caden. He, in turn, had sunk into a strange silence.

After taking their order, I waited for Caden to head to the restroom, then scurried over to the cash register.

"Mr. Rossi," I whispered to the owner, "that table over there... when they're done, if there are any untouched dishes, could you maybe... pack them up for me?"

The owner looked at me, confused. "You haven't eaten dinner?"

I lowered my head, my voice even quieter, laced with embarrassment. "I spent my meal money on coffee today..."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Caden stop dead in his tracks on his way back from the restroom.

Just as I'd planned. When he returned to his seat, his gaze was even more complicated.

Later, as I was serving their food, my hand "trembled," and a dish of chili oil nearly spilled all over me. Just as I was about to star in a tragic B-movie titled Waitress Down, a long, clean hand shot out and steadied the teetering plate.

It was Caden.

His brow was furrowed, and his eyes darted from my face to the counter where I'd been begging for leftovers. His voice was low. "You haven't eaten dinner?"

Hook, line, and sinker.

I set the dish down, my head bowed as I twisted the corner of my apron. My voice was barely a whisper, filled with the panic of being caught. "Oh! N-no, it's fine. I'm used to it. I... I went a little over budget with the coffee this afternoon."

It was true, I hadn't eaten. Those coffees were a major expense. My heart was still bleeding over it.

He watched me in silence, the cool indifference in his eyes slowly replaced by sheer disbelief. He probably couldn't comprehend how someone could be so broke that buying a few coffees meant skipping a meal.

Caden barely touched his food. He poked at his rice for ages, his gaze constantly drifting in my direction. When Blake tried to talk to him, he just mumbled noncommittal responses.

As I weaved between tables, my mind was racing with calculations: the "pity + coffee" combo was working beautifully.

Finally, they finished their meal. Blake took a call and left, and I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when I realized Caden hadn't moved. He had shifted to a less conspicuous table near the door.

I snuck a glance during a lull. The guy had his phone out and was pretending to read emails. Seriously? His acting was worse than mine. Who reads academic emails in a noisy, greasy diner?

I pretended not to notice and went about my workclearing tables, wiping them down, greeting new customers. But even while busy, I kept the performance going. I made sure to "accidentally" pass by his table several times, "casually" wiping sweat from my brow, and letting out a soft, pitiable grunt while lifting a heavy stack of bowls.

From the corner of my eye, I could see "Mr. CEO" wasn't reading a single word. His frown deepened, and his fingers swiped aimlessly at the screen.

At 9:30, the diner closed.

I rubbed my aching back, said goodbye to Mr. Rossi, and dragged my exhausted body out the door.

A figure immediately blocked my path.

It was Caden. He had actually waited all this time.

Under the dim streetlight, he looked a little flustered. He was clutching a takeout bag, and the tips of his ears were distinctly red.

"Here," he said, holding out the bag. His tone was clipped, but his eyes avoided mine. "I was... waiting for you. It was on my way."

I almost burst out laughing. On your way? Dude, you live in the fancy apartments on the east side of campus, and I live in the crumbling dorms on the west. Your "way" is a bit of a detour.

But I instantly switched into "surprised and flattered" mode, my eyes lighting up. "Caden, you waited for me?"

He cleared his throat and shoved the bag into my hands, his gaze fixed on a distant lamppost. "Just eat it."

I took the warm, fragrant bag, and a genuine flicker of gratitude went through meI was starving. But the show must go on.

I looked up at him with wide, watery eyes, my voice soft. "Caden, you're such a good person. You're so smart and so considerate."

I blushed on cue, lowered my head, and mumbled, "I wish... I wish I could always meet people as nice as you."

Then, I "panicked," looking up as if I'd said something scandalous, and quickly tried to backtrack. "Oh! I mean, thank you! I-I should go."

Clutching the food like a lifeline, I turned and practically ran toward my dorm.

After a safe distance, I snuck a peek back.

Caden was still standing there, a long, lonely figure under the streetlight. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, touched his ear again, and then, almost comically out of sync, turned and walked in the opposite direction.

Seeing him looking like a flustered, love-struck teenager, a smirk played on my lips. I hugged the warm takeout container and hummed a little tune all the way back to my dorm.