My Hot Billionaire Bestie.

Chapter 3

Christian.

As I waited for Victoria to return, I glanced around her room, trying to distract myself from the weird vibe I was getting. The room was a typical teenage girl setup—soft pinks and purples, posters that probably made zero sense to anyone over 20, and a teddy bear on the bed that looked like it had seen some things. But then my eyes landed on a small pink book with a lock on it, sitting innocently on her bedside table. Of course, I had to take a peek. I mean, who could resist?

I noticed the lock wasn’t fully engaged. Hmm. Curiosity and laziness were my two greatest enemies, so I flipped the book open. The page I landed on seemed, well, a bit… steamy?

"Drake pushes me onto the bed and uses handcuffs to tie my hands. I wiggle, trying to escape, but he pins me down. He’s hot, his abs stiff, sexy, and rock hard. He’s angry that I touched myself. He presses his lips against my neck and squeezes me tightly..."

I snapped the book shut so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash. That… that couldn’t be Victoria, right? The shy girl who wore glasses and thought crop tops were scandalous? Was this really her writing? I mean, really? But it was in her handwriting. I was both horrified and a little impressed.

I quickly shoved the diary back where I found it, hoping it was properly locked this time, and returned to the study table, pretending like I hadn’t just uncovered that side of Victoria. The door creaked open, and in she walked, back to her usual, reserved self. Like nothing had happened. Like I hadn’t just read the kind of fantasy that could make Fifty Shades of Grey look tame.

"Sorry about that," she said with a smile that was so practiced, it probably came with a class. "They just had a bad day." She waved off the drama like it was a bad episode of a reality show. "I warmed some noodles. They're a bit spicy, though."

Oh, nothing says "normal" like your parents screaming at each other while you casually hand over spicy noodles like nothing’s wrong. But hey, I didn’t have to live her life. She probably had a PhD in managing chaos by now. And judging by the way she had latched onto me earlier, she was definitely used to seeking comfort in weird places.

I devoured the noodles like I hadn’t seen food in a week, enjoying the distraction more than the actual meal. As we went back to revising, I realized she was actually picking it up faster than I expected. She was a lot smarter than she gave herself credit for. Maybe Drake wasn’t the only thing in her life that was underestimated.

When it was time for me to leave, I scribbled my number on a scrap of paper.

"You can call me anytime you need help—just not during class," I said, handing it to her. She looked at it like it was the Holy Grail.

"Thanks," she replied softly, taking the paper like it was a secret treasure. "I don’t have a personal phone, though. I’ll call you from the house phone."

We waved goodbye, and I watched her slip back into her house, the heavy air of dysfunction settling back around her like a worn-out comforter.

Victoria… so this is why she struggles in school. With that kind of home life, no wonder she couldn’t focus on algebra. I mean, who can concentrate on X and Y when your parents are basically auditioning for a reality TV show called "The Dysfunctional Duo"? It was a little sad, sure, but I couldn’t help but think about her diary. There was definitely more to her than she let on. Beneath all that awkwardness and insecurity, I had a feeling Victoria was actually a walking mystery novel—one that I was definitely interested in reading more of.

The school day passed in a blur, but something felt off when I didn’t see Victoria's bike parked outside. I searched the lot like I was hunting for the last slice of pizza at a party, but there was no sign of it. Not even a tire.

When I finally tracked her down after class, her face confirmed what I feared—her bike was out of commission. “It had a puncture, and I need to fix the brakes,” she explained, frustration in her voice like she was dealing with a tantrum-prone toddler. I remembered that annoying squeaky noise it had been making and felt a pang of sympathy, as though I too had been tortured by the sound.

“How about we study at my place instead?” I suggested, hoping I didn’t sound too eager. Her eyes lit up like I’d just offered her a golden ticket to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. I could practically hear the sigh of relief she was holding back. I knew how hard it must be to focus in a house that seemed more like a reality TV show waiting to happen.

As we walked past the field, I spotted Robin—who looked like he was trying out for a romance movie—with Lucy in his arms. They kissed, and he twirled her like they were in some kind of Disney fairy tale. My stomach did a weird flip, and not in the good way. Victoria’s posture stiffened, and I saw her grip her bag like it was her only lifeline. The jealousy radiated off her like a heatwave, and I just wanted to throw a bucket of cold water on her thoughts.

“Do you think people like us will ever be like that?” she asked, barely audible, as if she were asking if unicorns were real.

I took a deep breath. “Yes,” I said, trying to sound all wise and philosophical. “I think everyone deserves love, and when they meet the right person, they’ll get their happily ever after.”

She sighed, clearly not buying it, and muttered, “Let’s go.” But I caught the lingering glance she threw at Robin and Lucy, and I had to fight the urge to glare at them like a jealous ex. I wished I could convince her that love wasn’t a VIP club reserved only for the flawless.

We walked side by side, and I made a silent promise to help her believe in herself, even if I had to repeat it every single day. Because, seriously, she was worth it.

******

Victoria.

Christian's house was bigger than ours, tucked away in the suburbs, radiating an eerie calm that felt suspiciously like a murder mystery setting. His room was neat and orderly, as if a tiny army of invisible fairies kept it pristine. Sky-blue sheets, a white study table so clean you could perform surgery on it, and a chair that seemed to have never encountered the chaos of teenage life. It felt... suspiciously safe.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked, his voice soft and warm, making me flinch like I'd just been caught stealing cookies.

"I... um, no," I stammered, unsure of what to say. My stomach, however, had no such qualms and let out a dramatic growl, announcing its hunger to the room. I didn’t want to seem greedy, not in a place where the floors were so clean you could eat off them.

"Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a few." His smile was so genuine I almost felt like I was in an infomercial. I relaxed a little as he left the room.

I sat at his study table, pretending to focus on the math exercises we’d done yesterday. I opened the book, flipped through the pages, and immediately lost track of all the numbers because my mind kept wandering back to the argument from last night—my parents yelling at each other. Christian had witnessed that chaos, and I hated that he had to see it. He didn’t deserve a front-row seat to my family’s drama.

Mom and Dad’s fights were like that one song you hear on repeat—annoying at first, but eventually, you don’t even notice them. Except, unlike a song, it never stopped hurting.

Christian returned with two plates of pizza and orange juice, pulling me out of my dark thoughts. "It’s got pepper. Hope you don’t mind," he said casually, as though that was the biggest issue in the room.

I devoured the pizza like it was the last slice on Earth. It felt like my first real meal in days. Christian just watched me eat, but mercifully, he didn’t comment on my apparent lack of table manners.

The study sessions with Christian were the only moments where I felt like I had control over something. With his help, I started acing my tests. I was even kind of proud of myself for acing the main exams. But, of course, it didn’t matter to my parents—they were too busy battling it out like gladiators to notice that their daughter was finally making progress.

Christian became my anchor, always there like a lifeline in a sea of chaos. The insults from Lucy and her friends didn’t sting as much with him around. For the first time in a long while, I thought I was worth something.

But home was still unbearable, and no amount of academic success or Christian’s surprisingly good study habits could fix the loneliness gnawing at me. The emptiness became too much. I was tired of feeling like a burden, tired of pretending I had it all together. I had made up my mind: I was going to end it.

That morning, I went through the motions like any other day. Christian and I studied in the library, as usual, though the books looked way more intimidating than the usual drama of my life. During our break, we sat on the grass under the sun, trying to act like we weren’t secretly avoiding the mountain of work we’d assigned ourselves.

“You’re wearing white. That’s unusual for you,” Christian observed, his eyes catching the smallest details—like the fact I was wearing white, a color I rarely dared to wear in case I spilled something on it.

I smiled, though it didn’t quite reach my heart, which was probably too busy contemplating my life choices. “It’s a beautiful day. Just thought I’d mix things up a little, you know? Maybe wear a color I’ll never remember wearing.”

I tried to sound casual, but the words were like bricks dropping into a well, heavy with meaning. Today would be my last day. I had already visited the bridge that morning—tall, intimidating, with the rushing river below, clearly not appreciating my dramatic flair.

I spent the day laughing and joking with Christian, masking the storm inside me. I wanted him to remember me like that—happy, carefree, and blissfully unaware of my emotional breakdown. When the day ended and it was time to say goodbye, I waved at him, my heart giving a painfully overdramatic squeeze. This was it.

Before I left, I quietly slipped a note into the side pocket of his backpack, hoping he wouldn’t notice until it was too late. It wasn’t a long note—just a few words. I didn’t want to burden him with my personal crisis. He deserved better than a full-on, Oscar-worthy farewell.

As I walked away, I didn’t look back. It was easier that way. Plus, I was pretty sure if I did, I’d cry, and I wasn’t about to give my emotions the satisfaction.

I rode my bike along the familiar path, the one Dad had bought me to prove he hadn’t forgotten my birthday. The irony was almost laughable, like a sitcom subplot. The wind whistled through the tall trees lining the road, their leaves rustling like they were gossiping about me. The chill in the air was sharp, but I welcomed it. The thought of freedom, real freedom, brought a smile to my face—though it may have been more from the thrill of rebellion than anything else.

I parked the bike on the sidewalk, setting my backpack down with the kind of reverence usually reserved for fragile antiques. Like it mattered. I walked toward the edge of the bridge, each step sending a shiver down my spine—not from fear, though. No, this was pure anticipation. The kind you get before a really bad decision.

I climbed up onto the rail, gripping the cold metal bars like I was about to make a grand escape—like I had a cape, even though I clearly didn’t. The metal was uncomfortably grounding, and I took in a deep, dramatic breath.

"This is goodbye," I whispered into the wind, feeling like the star of my very own tragic movie. Below, the water churned angrily, as if it had somewhere else to be. It was funny how my lifelong fear of heights just decided to take the day off. All I could focus on was the space between me and the water, how it would swallow me up, and how finally, it would be quiet.

A thought popped into my head: my funeral. A small, empty ceremony—probably no one would even show up. Maybe they'd forget to send the invites. Maybe I wouldn't even be missed.

"I bet they won’t even realize I’m dead," I muttered to myself, throwing in a sigh for extra drama. "It’s been a long, lonely journey... but hey, at least I got a 98 on my math test. Take that, world. Goodbye, Earth. I won’t be missed."

I glanced down again at the swirling water. It was like nature's giant, indifferent garbage disposal, just waiting to carry me away. And for some bizarre reason, that idea was oddly comforting. Slowly, I let go of the rail with one hand, my eyes closing as I prepared to dramatically release the other and stretch out my arms like some tragic hero. I could swim, of course, but this time? Nope. Not today. Because I didn’t want to.

"Victoria..." A voice sliced through the sound of the rushing w

ater.

I froze. My heart went into full panic mode. That voice—wait, it wasn’t in my head.