Crushing on my Billionaire Best Friend - Jolie Day Page 0,35

they walked away, along with my hope to finally stop wondering what her boobs looked like. I no longer cared.

“Sorry to steal you from your friends,” the girl said quietly, still wrapping her arms around a stack of books and papers. Maybe a little tighter now than before. “Thank you for showing me around. This place is like a maze.”

“It gets easier when you get used to it.” I gave her a half-grin. “You’ll be navigating it like a pro in no time.”

The layout of the school was one thing. But the savage social cliques of our high school were a whole other beast—one that the girl did not do such a great job of taming in the coming weeks. My obligation to her was only meant to last a couple of days, but the more I saw the way the other kids treated her, the more I felt the need to stand up for her. At first, I didn’t even really like her. I mean, I didn’t dislike her, but I didn’t see us ever becoming best buddies, either. I may have been the typical popular teenage guy in many ways, but I wasn’t heartless. I couldn’t just throw her to the wolves to fend for herself.

One advantage of my hanging around with her was that it made the geeky girl more approachable. She seemed to break out of her shell as time went on. Girls weren’t threatened by her because they saw her as overweight and not in their league. And they should have been (for a different reason), because over time, I learned she was the smartest kid in school. But something else happened. The more people started to see me as her protector, the more the girls tried to use her as a gateway to get to me.

After class, she’d pass along sappy notes and love letters from girls with crushes on me. If I thought they were hot, she’d pass a note back to them for me. Usually, mine were much shorter and to the point. They’d send a page of nervous confessions; I’d send back one line requesting them to meet me behind the bleachers after school.

And the bonus was, she got to make new friends out of the fleet of girls fawning all over me.

It was a win-win for everybody.

10

Laney: 12 years earlier

Okay, only one thing could make me spend an extra thirty minutes in the bathroom each morning, agonizing over what to wear, how to do my hair (good Lord—the freaking frizz was a bitch and a half!).

And that was him.

Oliver Humphries.

Oh, my God.

Sandy-blonde hair, tall, and built. The thought of him made me want to fan myself. He was that freaking hot. Like, if you were to stare at him too long, you’d actually burst into flames. Dramatic? Yes. But, oh, so true. In a metaphorical way, of course.

He was the guy every girl in school wanted.

Every girls’ dream…

Me, unfortunately, I was practically invisible to him. At least in all the ways that mattered to me.

Sure, it was kind of nice to know he watched out for me. I was like a little sister to him. It was better than nothing. At least he actually listened to what I had to say and stared at my eyes instead of my boobs. But damn. The problem was, I would have given just about anything to have him stare at my chest the way he did with the other girls. I know. I know. It was a strange thing to crave, but I wanted him to desire me. Regardless of how objectifying and shallow it may have been.

I stared at my reflection, taking off my glasses to reveal my bright green eyes. But I could barely see my face without my glasses—so back on they went. I tried twisting my hair into a new kind of style, but nothing looked or felt right. Whatever magical ability other girls my age had in order to look like a model straight from the pages of Teen Vogue, I so did not share. I felt clueless when it came to my looks.

Maybe it was because I knew it wouldn’t really matter what I did. I could fix my hair and makeup and wear revealing clothes. Well, what I would consider revealing anyway, which was a skirt that hung just above my knees or a shirt that hung loosely from my shoulders. I could never pull off the midriff shirts the popular girls wore. It’d only make