My Hot Billionaire Bestie.

Chapter 6.

Victoria.

Ten years later...

The TV blared, dragging me out of my thoughts like a lifeguard pulling a drowning swimmer from a pool of my own musings.

“Marlow Holdings has today merged with Tory Holdings, marking a significant business boost for Tory Holdings. This merger comes on the heels of a strong year and rising stock prices. This is Business Weekly; I’m Jonathan Reek.”

Ugh, stock prices? Can we talk about anything else? But then again, it's Business Weekly, and I had no say in that.

"Ah! My bow!" I realized, panic setting in. Not the archery kind, of course—just my hair tie. As if I could function without my hair up in some half-decent bun that made me look like I had my life together. I rushed to my room, grabbed it, and swiftly piled my hair on top of my head. Slapped on my glasses (because I love that studious look), grabbed my bag, and bolted out the door, narrowly avoiding my own shadow in the process. Late for class? Never again.

Campus life was, as expected, a snooze-fest. Economics class had all the excitement of watching paint dry on a beige wall, but hey, I needed that degree like a caffeinated squirrel needs nuts. Can you believe that I, the same person who once thought a calculator was a foreign artifact, was now thriving in this crazy world of numbers? Well, all credit goes to Christian for making me actually care about it. He made math seem less like a punishment and more like a... mildly tolerable hobby.

After class, I plopped onto a bench like a tired potato after a long day of being baked in the sun. I fished out my snack—because why not?—and took a sip of my juice, trying to pretend I wasn’t getting caught up in my own thoughts. Then, ding ding! My phone vibrated, as if it knew it was time to interrupt my moment of peace.

“Is class over?” Christian's text popped up.

I rolled my eyes, smirking at the obvious question.

“Yes, I’m done for the day,” I replied, barely stopping to breathe between words.

“We could go out for lunch if that’s okay,” he suggested.

Okay? Was that even a question? Yes, yes, a million times yes! I hadn’t seen him in what felt like a lifetime—well, technically it had only been a week, but still, too long.

“I’ll call you when I get there.”

I took another gulp of juice as I watched the students rush by, feeling like an unimportant background extra in my own movie. Then—buzz buzz—another text.

“I’m at the parking lot.”

Right. The parking lot. This campus was the size of a small city. How did he expect me to know which parking lot? Still, after scanning the lot like I was searching for Waldo in a sea of cars, I spotted him. And wow. Christian hadn’t just gotten taller; he had become a walking novel cover model. Gone was the chubby, awkward kid, replaced with a r!diculously handsome, tall, muscular guy who made my heart skip a beat.

I’m talking about the kind of guy who makes people whisper.

“Omg, that guy is so hot.”

“I know, right? He’s so good-looking. I wish I had a guy like that.”

I resisted the urge to point to the guy they were talking about, but then again, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to claim ownership of him just yet.

He finally wrapped up his phone call, and then, as if some cosmic force made him aware I was staring, his gaze locked onto me. His smile? Heartwarming. Before I knew it, I was lifted off my feet in a bear hug that swung me around like I was a paperweight.

Now, here’s the thing: he’s 6’1”. I’m 5’1”. So, it was less of a “human tornado” and more of a “romantic swoon.”

When he set me down, his eyes sparkled with mischief, and he gave my nose an unexpected pinch.

“Hey! What was that for?” I asked, laughing and trying not to act like I’d just been given the most dreamy hug.

“It’s my special hello to you,” he teased, his grin widening. “Look at you—so light! You haven’t been eating, have you?”

I shot him a look. If I mentioned I was too busy studying, he’d go into a full lecture on healthy eating.

“I’m… trying this new, uh… keto diet,” I lied, doing my best to sound casual, though I probably looked like I was hiding a cr!me scene in my hands.

“Well, that diet is definitely not for you. Come on, let’s go get a real meal,” he insisted, opening the passenger door for me like I was some sort of royal guest.

As I slid into his Range Rover Sport—a vehicle so fancy, it might as well have had a throne instead of a seat—I couldn’t help but notice the envious stares from bystanders. Apparently, my best friend wasn’t just rich, he was wealthy rich. His car practically shouted, “Look at me, peasants!” while I just tried not to spill orange juice on his plush leather seats.

“So, how was your trip?” I asked, trying to make casual conversation as he effortlessly steered the wheel.

“Same old, tiring as always. I was really looking forward to coming back,” he replied, his tone as smooth as his car.

“Class went well, though. I aced this test! I was so nervous about getting the results,” I said, my grin breaking out like I’d just won a gold medal.

******

I ate like there was no tomorrow. Seriously, I was getting dangerously close to eating the table itself.

“I don’t think you should continue with that keto diet,” Christian said, giving me a look that made me feel like I’d just comm!tted a cr!me against food. “Not that I’m trying to take you back to high school, but I want you to eat and be healthy, Victoria.”

I gave him a grin so bright it could’ve powered a small city. “I’m fine, Christian. You don’t need to worry. I promise I’ll stop the keto diet,” I replied, praying to the food gods that he wouldn’t launch into a full-on health lecture.

Though his looks had changed, his protectiveness hadn’t.

“I saw you on TV—congratulations on the company!” I said, smiling so wide my face might have cracked.

Christian’s smirk widened, and he rubbed the nape of his neck in that annoyingly adorable way that made him look like he belonged on a billboard for ‘Billionaire Heartthrobs.’ Did I mention he was the owner of Tory Holdings? A massive chain of companies? And that he was a billionaire at just 26? Yeah, that guy. My best friend was basically a walking trophy, and I was over here feeling like a participation ribbon.

I caught myself glaring at him as he scrolled through his phone, probably looking at more business stuff. But then my brain decided it wanted to take a detour, and suddenly, I was thinking thoughts that were… well, not appropriate for someone who considered him family.

His eyes flicked up, catching mine for a split second. I immediately looked away, my face burning hotter than a volcano. I had known him for ages, but somehow, I still got butterfly-level shy around him. How was that even possible? Weren’t we past the whole “ugly duckling” phase? But here I was, practically a walking ball of awkwardness.

“Would you like some more milkshake?” he asked, his voice deep and inviting—like a demon tempting you to do things you probably shouldn’t. I swear, he could make a question about milkshakes sound like a proposal to join a cult. He slipped his phone into his pocket, finally giving me his full, undivided attention.

I gulped. What was I supposed to say to that? 'Yes, please, more milkshake, and maybe a side of please stop making me feel like a love-struck teenager?’

“This one’s more than enough. Thanks, though. I was starving, no joke. I can’t believe I’m almost done with campus. One last test, and I’m outta here! Today’s class was so boring, I almost fell asleep mid-lecture. The guy in front of me was playing video games, and another girl was giving herself a manicure. I was just dying to get out of there—statistics was a—” I paused, realizing I was one ramble away from sounding like I belonged in a cuck0o room.

“Why’d you stop? I love hearing your daily stories! You owe me a ‘day in the life’ clip. I didn’t get one yesterday. My day was so blah without it,” he chimed in, looking way too happy about my lack of a life update.

A smile spread across my face. He actually liked those ridiculous little clips I sent him? I’d thought he was just being polite. The thought of him actually enjoying them made my heart do this weird little happy dance.

---

I glanced at him, feeling my cheeks flare up with that familiar awkwardness. Quickly, I looked away.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy around me, Vicky,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. Ugh, of course he caught it. He was like some sort of human lie detector with a PhD in noticing every little thing.

“Who, me? No way! I just remembered this math problem I couldn’t solve... which, uh, you know... totally matters more right now,” I blurted, trying to make my escape from his scrutiny.

“I could help you solve it,” he said, leaning in with that 'I'm-gonna-solve-your-life' look.

“No, no need! Aren’t you, like, super busy right now?” I asked, hoping my desperate attempt to change the topic didn’t sound too obvious.

He leaned back, the mischievous grin never leaving his face. “I’m never busy for you, Vicky.”

Those words hit me like a surprise bouquet of flowers in the face—sweet, soft, and I didn’t know how to handle it. My heart fluttered in the sort of way you only read about in cheesy romance novels.

As I stole a glance at him, my eyes immediately landed on the bruise on his arm—a constant reminder of that one time I tried to end my life by jumping off a bridge. Good times. I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose, feeling like I was going to suffocate under the weight of his gaze. Seriously, I didn’t know where to look. His eyes were locked on mine like he was

trying to read my soul, and honestly, it felt like I might die of a heart attack at any moment.