Breccan and Gretel, two self-described 'players', hook up after meeting unexpectedly at a chess tournament and 
decide to help each other 'up their game' by playing wingman/wingwoman for one another. 

All seems well in heaven until Brec's cousin, who has begun to intuit their growing affection for each other, has an 
offer: $500 each to participate in her PhD study on personality theory. Without knowing the requirements or the 
stakes, they agree, but soon realize that her tactics may threaten the very constructs of the noncommittal lifestyle 
they've each created for themselves. As their emotional walls begin to fall, and their sordid pasts are revealed, 
they are left with one raw question: is love worth the pain?

The door creaked just enough to scare me into paralysis. I listened with a cocked ear for the sound of him walking down the hall. Nothing. I tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind my ear, pulled the door open, and poked my head out of his bedroom to survey the battlefield. Not a soul was in sight, but the faint sound of running water could be heard from the bathroom just inches to my right.

Perfect.

I threw the door shut and rushed around the room to gather my things. I found my jeans stuffed in a corner by the dresser, my bra buried under some sheets on the floor, and my t-shirt hanging lazily off the edge of a wood-framed picture. I stopped to observe the images: a young boy with bushy, sandy-brown hair and bright blue eyes standing arm in arm with a dark-haired woman with matching eyes.

Uh, oh. A mamma’s boy. I’d better make this quick.

Within seconds, I was dressed and ready to make a very discreet exit. I grabbed my purse and rushed down the hallway.

I had barely made it two steps, the front door in my sights, when I collided unexpectedly with Breccan as he stepped out of the bathroom. We crashed violently into each other, sending our belongings flying to the floor next to us. I pulled myself to sit, nursing a bump on my head, but none too disappointed that his towel had conveniently left him unbridled and bare. I didn’t hide my once-over as he pulled himself off the ground – damn he was a good choice. Enough to consider another round…

Nope. Never a second round, Gretel. You know better.

I glanced at the items on the floor – my purse, my phone, my keys, his towel, his keys…his keys?

“Sorry…” Breccan said, scratching his head. “I, uh…I thought you were still sleeping.”

“Yeah, likewise,” I responded. I took a moment to admire his relatively lean build, before he cruelly concealed it back under the towel. He picked up his keys.

“You going somewhere?” I asked, incredulous.

He tucked his hand behind his back. “No – well, not yet anyways. I was just, uh, running out to my bike to grab something.” He raised an eyebrow as I stood and hooked my purse over my shoulder. “Where are you going?”

The moment had come; time to break his heart. I was too tired to do it tactfully. I stood up straight. “Home. This isn’t my apartment last time I checked.”

“Really…” He seemed to contemplate for a moment. He shrugged and shut the bathroom door behind him. “All right, cool. Well, see ya.” He brushed past me and headed down the hall towards the kitchen.

My jaw dropped. I felt a rush of fire across my cheeks. Against my will, I followed him. “I’m sorry...what did you say?”

He paused and looked at me, his brow tethered. “It was a good time; maybe I’ll see you around.” He disappeared into the kitchen.

I huffed and entered the kitchen behind him. “I’m sorry, did you just dismiss me?” My eyes were like large unfrosted donuts, fresh out of the scathing oven. What am I so worked up about? I usually dream of an easy getaway.

He shook his head. “It always happens this way.” With a belabored sigh, he reached for my hand with patronizing gentleness. “Look, Gretel, it’s been fun, it really has. But this is all there is for me. I don’t do long-term; it’s just the way I am.”

I wrenched my hand away from his. “That’s not what I meant, jackass. What do you think I was doing, preparing to write you a love note?”

He sported a coy smile. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

I rolled my eyes. “I was trying to get out of here before you finished your shower. If I’d known you’d be done so quickly, I would’ve gone out the bedroom window.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You were gonna ditch me?” He scratched his chin. “I guess there’s a first time for everything...”

He contemplated for a moment while I straightened my shirt. That’s right. I ditch my dates. Not the other way around.

“Well, then I guess this is your lucky day,” he said finally.

I looked at him expectantly.

His eyes turned wicked. “See that door over there?”

Like an idiot, I looked.

“That’s the way home.” He turned back to the stove and pulled out a frying pan, chuckling.

I fumed. “You’re an ass.”

He turned to me with a broad smile. “Finally: a girl that gets me.”

I scowled, but quickly took a different tack. Casually, I turned around to head for the door. “You’re right, I do get you; what little of you there is.”

It was a low blow, but it had the desired effect. A smile spread across my face as I heard his footsteps rush up behind me.

“Whoa, whoa, now hang on one second, sweet cheeks,” he urged. “You can’t go around spewing lies like that. There is nothing wrong with my, uh…”

I turned and looked at him innocently. “Oh, I know. Nothing was really wrong with it.” I looked him up and down. “It was just, ya know…meh.” I reached for the door.

“Okay, okay,” he said. He stepped in front of me to block my exit. “I know what you’re doing and I’m not falling for it. You’re trying to get under my skin because I showed you the door. Okay, fine, I deserve that.”

I smiled sardonically, “Whatever you need to believe is fine by me, honey.” I pushed past him and opened the door with enough force to knock him backwards. I started quickly down the steps, relief washing over me as the fresh air hit my face.

He followed behind. “Need to believe? No, no, I don’t need to believe anything.”

I couldn’t help but smile. He was making a fantastic idiot of himself. Life felt normal again.

“I know how women think. You’ll play all sorts of little games to try to get me to call you. It’s not gonna work. I never order seconds.”

I raised my eyebrows as I reached my car. “Seconds? Well you certainly have a way of making that sound wonderfully appealing. Now quit following me. I’m not opposed to using my car to incapacitate you.”

He paused as I lowered myself into the driver’s seat. “You’re really not gonna try to give me your number?”

I rolled my eyes. “If I did that, you might call me.”

He shrugged casually. “Nah, probably not.”

I huffed and wrenched my door closed.

He grabbed the handle and pulled it sharply away from me before I could shut it all the way. “Hang on, now. This is interesting. You really don’t want a relationship…you don’t date either?”

I smirked as I fingered my keys. “As much as I’d like to say my behavior today is specific to you, no. I don’t do ‘seconds’ or ‘thirds’ or even ‘fourths’. Seems too much like sentimental bullshit to me.”

He pondered for a moment, then grabbed my keys right out of my hands and tossed them to himself. “Let’s go get breakfast.” He headed around the front of the car.

I groaned audibly. Oh God, no, not one of those. The last guy who took me on as his personal challenge took weeks to shake.

I dragged myself out of the driver’s seat, chased him down, and nabbed my keys back. “No. I’m going home. I told you: I don’t date.”

He leaned in and looked me in the eye. “Gretel, I can’t remember the last time I went on a date, and I’m not about to start building memories. But I hate cooking breakfast and my roommate isn't here to grab flapjacks with me. Since you claim to have no interest in me…” He gripped my chin gently with his hand. “…I see no harm in listening you bitch and whine over a hot steamy stack of pancakes.”

I pulled my face away.  I wanted to turn him down flat, but a growling in my stomach told me some protein was in order. I exhaled audibly. “You promise me this isn’t some lame attempt to get more time with me so you can convince me that you’re the only guy I could ever love?”

He snorted. “Wow, what kind of lame-ass men have you been sleeping with?”

“You have no idea.”

“I don’t know, sounds like we might be sleeping with the same people.” He walked around to the passenger side. “You’re driving.”

I reluctantly returned to the driver’s seat and cleared the granola wrappers, cans of diet soda, and English quizzes from the passenger’s seat. I tossed them in the back and he plopped himself in the car next to me. I paused. “I don’t know this side of town very well. What’s good? I’m kinda picky – I only like bacon and eggs.”

“Oh, I know, baby,” he cajoled.

I smacked his arm and pulled out.