AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Frankly, I don't think we would've stayed friends all these years, if we didn't share something in common. That something didn't reveal itself until three months into our friendship, when I happened upon her name on the Dean's list, spanning her entire time at Columbia. The little discovery rocked me to my very core.
Sure, it's safe to say that students attending a prestigious university are going to be smart, but it's no secret that those from ultra wealthy families—such as Mei—often gain acceptance through private donations. A.k.a. bribes. An unethical practice that, at the time, had higher correlations with those in Greek life.
So, in the back of my mind, during those early days of our friendship, I put two-and-two together, coupled with Mei's girly exterior—the big lashes, skimpy outfits, dyed hair, acrylic nails, and arm tattoo—her affinity for large parties and living the high life, then poof. She was a subpar student from an affluent family who cuts corners, searching for the next geek to do her homework for her, in exchange for an upgraded social life.
I couldn't have been. More. Dead. Wrong.
My girl Mei Nguyen's all smoke and mirrors.
She may drink like she's got no liver to lose and pull the quarterback and the captain of the hockey team in one weekend, but she's an academic try-hard, through and through. It runs through her veins—her words, not mine—because she's a Vietnamese, first-generation college student and the eldest child of immigrant parents, who struck it big in the manufacturing industry, with all the same pressures and expectations of those who didn't.
Since the very first day I met her, she's never wasted a single minute of her time. Her schedule's fully booked out, like a celebrity hair stylist or some high-profile lawyer.
Even now, she's in the first year of her PhD program and is an adjunct for a lower-level arts class, in hopes to one day become a professor, all while somehow juggling being the president of the pottery club, participating in Greek life as an alum, and working part-time at The Caffeine Cove. A job she took to, "fill up her free time," when I know the girl must hardly have time to sleep.
All of which is a total roundabout way of saying...
Mei is a badass. In every sense of the word.
Sadness ripples through me as I brush my thumb across her vase. A badass I'm lying to, despite never keeping secrets. But she can never know the truth about the guy she set me up with or the strange arrangement I now find myself in, because there's no predicting her reaction. Too much is on the line for uncertainty.
What a shame, though. I cross the room with her vase, the city lights like a galaxy of fallen stars as my backdrop. She'd love the view of my new life, even if it's temporary.
Turns out, my room doesn't do Mei's vase justice. My nightstand is too small for my new bed and looks like a duck in the desert, surrounded by such luxury. There's no room at my workstation, I don't have an accent table to put near the windows, and my whole closet is off because I have approximately two outfits.
So, I'm on the prowl for the perfect spot, walking the halls all over again, this time quietly in the dark with my fuzzy bunny slippers while still avoiding a certain playboy billionaire. Who I haven't seen since what happened by the—
I shake my head violently, denying the thoughts from taking shape. Don't go there.
Slowly but surely, I memorize the penthouse's cavernous layout. Taking a more thorough route than before, I breeze past a dining hall, guest bedrooms, a private workout facility, a state-of-the-art kitchen, a large, empty space—which seems to be for entertaining guests—an exit door labeled rooftop terrace, a hallway I avoid because I'm ninety-nine percent sure it leads to the main bedroom, and a surprising amount of paintings on the walls.
Scratch that. A ton of paintings—and pastels—most unlike anything I've seen, some even encased in protective glass with overhead, focused spotlights, as if curated for The Louvre. I make mental notes to revisit a few later, which only worsens my guilt. Mei would have much more to say about them than I do.
I bank a left and discover an enormous opening—the main living room, cloaked in metallic grays and modern furniture. My jaw drops as I follow my gaze up a windy floating staircase, which leads up to yet another floor I haven't ventured. Iron rails line the balcony above, and two-story glass encases the one-eighty views of the city, all seemingly centered around one main focal point.
A marble fireplace.
I approach with a smile, having finally found the vase a home—one long slab of oak above a roaring fire that flickers through a bed of glass beads. When the vase sits comfortably off to one side, I backpedal a few paces and rub my jaw with a hmmmm, as if I'm some fussy art critic.
My unparalleled, super qualified insight, you ask?
The floral pattern may clash with the modern decor, and this is no Victorian chateau, but anything's better than the second-hand furniture I bought off online marketplaces... Oh, who am I kidding? Screw the chateau. I'm in a twenty-thousand square foot penthouse. I think I did Mei's expert pottery justice. At least now she's here in some capacity.
When I'm not even ten paces into retracing my steps, my phone rings in my pants pocket. Loudly echoing through the dark hallway. I curse under my breath, shut up, shut up, shut up, only to expand upon my vocabulary when I see the caller I.D.
Mei.
Is she some kind of psychic?!
I silence the ringer, letting out an anxious breath, as I slip it back into my—
RING, RING, RING...
Jolting backwards, I nearly slip on the polished hardwood. When I check the I.D. again, I feel stupid. I nibble my lip, my heart rate skyrocketing as the tone blasts through the penthouse. Mei's not one to be ignored. She'll keep calling. Shit, shit, shit...
I whip the phone to my ear, speaking right above a whisper. "Hey."
"Hey, girl!" Mei's voice booms in my ear, doing little to curb my anxiety. "What're you up to?"
