Tall, Dark, and Nerdy: High School Billionaire #1

by Dallen, Maggie

  A lot had changed in the past couple weeks and keeping a record of it all was my lame way of trying to make it seem real. Like, if I had enough hard evidence it would finally get through my thick skull that Oliver was now living a totally different life than the one we used to share.

  The sale for his app was announced, along with the jaw-dropping price tag, and the fact that Oliver would retain his position as the head of that app for the mammoth tech giant. Overnight he became a household name, and his face…

  “When did Oliver Jackson become such a hottie?” Julie’s friend Cameron mused. It was far from the first time one of Julie’s minions had asked some form of this question within my earshot, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. I had to get used to it before I blew a gasket.

  But today was not the day.

  I let out a swift, angry exhale and glared at my bio textbook. It was infuriating. These same girls hadn’t given Oliver the time of day last year, or the year before that, or ever. But now, one stupid makeover for the magazine photoshoot…okay yeah, and a billion dollars…and suddenly he was their dream guy? Were they kidding?

  No. No, they were not.

  “I should totally call him,” Julie said.

  “You totally should!” one of her kiss-up friends chimed in instantly.

  Oh yeah, totally. The snarky voice in my head did me no good. It didn’t make me feel any better at all. Why? Because Oliver might actually be happy to hear from her.

  When I’d said he should come to homecoming to show Julie Berns what she was missing…I hadn’t really thought she’d realize what she was missing. But now?

  A flicker of something hot, dark, and super uncomfortable had me squirming in my seat.

  I tried to focus on the chapter at hand, but it was useless. Part of me wanted to turn around and tell them that she didn’t stand a chance with Oliver, but the loyal friend in me would never sabotage Oliver like that.

  I mean, if he wanted to date Julie Berns, then he had every right. If I were really a good friend I’d even offer to step aside and let her take my place as his date to the gala next month.

  Word had spread that he was going to be featured, but it wasn’t confirmed. I was one of the lucky few who had the inside scoop.

  Well, me and Jamie.

  There was that sensation again. So toxic, so unpleasant, so…not like me. It made me want to crawl out of my skin.

  Either Julie had somehow tapped into my friend ESP or she was just equally obsessed with following all Oliver-related media coverage. Probably the latter.

  “I don’t know,” she said in a whiney voice that made me cringe. “They keep showing photos of him with that girl.”

  My stomach churned. ‘That girl?’ You betcha. It was Jamie. Thanks to my obsession with reading about Oliver, I’d learned that nice, sweet Jamie was a media mogul’s daughter—a beautiful, stinking rich heiress, with the sort of thin figure that made me want to throw my hands up and give up on dieting once and for all.

  “Is she his girlfriend?” Cameron asked.

  I didn’t hear Julie’s answer, but the answer was no. And I should know. He told me everything, including all about his new friendship with Jamie. Not that he called her his friend. My oh-so-oblivious best friend didn’t seem to get that the pretty blonde was trying to get close to him. He honestly believed that she just wanted his help with this new charity project she was starting up.

  Sure, I could understand now that he was mega-rich he’d be a great target for her non-profit needs. But I highly doubted that was her only motivation. And I didn’t buy that she just wanted to be his buddy, either.

  I shifted again, flipping the page in annoyance, as if maybe it was the textbook’s fault that I couldn’t sit still long enough to read a single paragraph.

  I stabbed one half of the pencil into my notebook where I was supposed to be jotting down information from the reading. Instead I’d managed to slaughter the blank page with vicious jabs.

  This was hopeless. Who could concentrate with these girls jabbering away like this?

  “You should have asked him to homecoming,” Cameron said.

  She was talking to Julie, of course.

  I couldn’t help the smirk that spread across my face. I couldn’t wait to see the look on Julie’s face when Oliver did show up at homecoming tonight.

  With me.

  My satisfaction ended swiftly as I realized that my triumph could very well be short-lived. If Oliver wanted to hang out with her at the dance tonight, I wouldn’t stop him. After all, where was the fun in becoming a super-rich hottie if you couldn’t use it to make people like Julie Berns drool? Heck, I’d probably push him into her waiting arms. That was my job, right? I mean, that was what best friends did…they played wingman.

  I tried to ignore the swift jolt of nausea that rose up at the thought of him and Julie together. No. My bestie was too mature for that. He might get a little kick out of watching Julie fall all over him, but he wouldn’t fall for her. He couldn’t.

  I tapped my pencil against the notebook. And by ‘tapped’ I meant I dug another hole straight through the blank page.

  “Did you check your results for a match in Love Quiz?” one of her friends asked.

  Idiots. Clearly they didn’t know that though he was the creator and owner of the wildly popular dating app, Oliver wasn’t a user.

  Julie’s tone was filled with derision. “No, I don’t even think he’s on there.”

  “Of course he’s not,” Cameron said with an exasperated sigh. “Only normal people use the app.”

  If by ‘normal’ she meant shallow then I totally agreed.

  “Right?” Julie said. “He’s so weird.” Then she laughed and the sound was filled with mockery. “Can you imagine if we were paired up by the app?”

  “Ew,” Cameron said.

  “What would that say about you?” one of her other friends said with a laugh.

  “Kill me now,” Julie said through her laughter.

  My thoughts exactly. Could someone please kill Julie now? Thanks.

  Cameron chimed in, saying what they were all alluding to. “He might be cute, and crazy rich, but the guy is still such a dork.”

  “So awkward,” Julie agreed. “Remember how weird he was when he was in our group project last year?”

  “Ugh,” her friend said by way of agreement. “So awkward. He barely ever spoke.”

  “And when he did, he said the weirdest things,” Cameron said.

  “The guy’s a loser.”

  “But a rich loser,” Julie added.

  “Oh totally. And surprisingly hot,” Cameron agreed.

  And before you could say hypocrites they were back to talking about how they would totally date the ‘loser’ in question.

  Anger had me frozen in place. I had no problem speaking my mind, but at this particular moment I was sure that I’d look like a fool if I tried to defend my friend. How did I know? I had this choked feeling in the back of my throat, this stinging in my eyes.

  I’d cry. Partly out of anger, and partly out of hurt on my friend’s behalf, but no matter what the reason, no one looked good when they angry-cried. It was just a fact of life. Instead I sat there frowning at my long-forgotten reading assignment and thought of all the things I should say. Namely, you should be so lucky! The guy could have his pick of women, and he was way too smart to fall for one of them.

  They only wanted him now because of his money, but they’d missed their chance. They were too late. Some of my anger was washed away with a giddy surge of glee. He’d moved on to greener pastures and when he came back here tonight to rub it in all their faces, he’d be doing it with me at his side. As his date, suckers!

  For one night, at least. The wave of spiteful glee disappeared as quickly as it came. It would be one night of Carrie-like revenge—without all the blood, obviously. One night and then he’d leave Harmon High behind again and go back to his glamorous life. Where he belonged, because Oliver was too good for them…
too good for all of us.

  Ugh, that thought did little to ebb the threatening tears.

  While our schoolmates were busy partying and binge-watching Netflix shows, he’d been working his butt off on an app. Not for the money, but just because he was curious. His mind never stopped, but that was something that these girls would neither appreciate nor understand.

  I did, though.

  And hopefully Jamie did, too.

  There it was again. I decided I’d name this sensation ‘snake.’ It felt like a snake was slithering through my guts and up into my chest.

  Sexy image, right?

  That was me. Ms. Sex Appeal.

  “So sexy.” It was Cameron talking and for a second I thought her hushed whisper was in response to my thoughts. Oliver might have laughed at my ESP ideas, but I swear there was some truth to it.

  But then I realized that the tone of the conversation had totally shifted once again. Their voices had grown far more hushed, and their laughter was gone. One of them even sighed like she was some Southern belle. “He might be a nerd, but he’s still super hot to look at.”

  My head shot up.

  “He’s totally checking me out.” Julie’s voice was smug.

  Wait…what? Who? They couldn’t still be talking about—

  “Hey, Vance.” Oliver’s voice had me looking over toward the doorway. Sure, enough Oliver was standing there, his eyes fixed on me as my mouth dropped open in shock.

  He gave me his version of a smile, which, unless he was super happy or laughing about something, consisted of the corners of his mouth hitching up ever so slightly. It had always given me the impression that he not only knew exactly what I was thinking, but that he was thinking it too.

  I loved that smile.

  But that smile was all I recognized about him. Well, the smile and his eyes. I’d know those eyes anywhere. It wasn’t that the makeover had totally made him over—they’d given him a haircut, and swapped out his normal clothes for ones that fit him perfectly. What he was wearing now was more casual than what he would have picked out for himself—a fitted black V-neck sweater over a white T-shirt. Still with the no-jeans thing, but beneath his gray slacks he wore bright green tennis shoes that added a little life to the black and white ensemble. They’d also given him more stylish glasses, which gave him an updated, trendy Buddy Holly look rather than his old version.

  It wasn’t some crazy overhaul, but all combined he looked different. He looked…hot. Way older than every guy here, and so much more mature. Maybe that’s because he was way more mature. There was always that possibility.

  My throat was dry and my eyes felt permanently stuck in this wide-eyed shocked expression. The guy standing in the doorway was the same, but totally different.

  He was the boy I’d grown up with, but also some new man who I’d never met before.

  No, that wasn’t totally true. I’d seen glimpses of this guy three weeks ago at his school. Truth be told, I didn’t think the makeover was the only factor in this new image. I mean, for the girls sitting behind me whispering madly, sure. They were taking in the clothes, the stellar jawline that had previously been overshadowed by mop-like hair and unflattering glasses.

  But I saw the newfound confidence, the swagger, the intangible something that not only made him seem older, it made him seem…

  Sexy.

  The air rushed from my lungs. No, no, no. Do not go there, Vance.

  I shoved the thought straight out of my head as I scrambled to stack my textbook and notebook. A glance at the wall clock showed that the last bell of the day would be ringing any second now and I planned to be the first one out the door so I could snag Oliver and drag him out of here before Julie Berns got her grubby paws on him.

  Grubby paws. See what that witch and her friends had done to me? They’d turned me into a nineteenth century schoolmarm. Well, golly gee willikers it was time to skedaddle.

  The moment the bell rang I was already on my feet and headed toward the door. I tackled Oliver with a side hug that morphed into us walking side by side so we didn’t block the doorway.

  “Welcome home, bigshot.”

  I still had one arm around his waist and was cradling my books in the other arm until he reached over and snagged them from me. Speaking of old-timey actions, Oliver was one of the last living teenaged males who still believed in carrying a girl’s books for her.

  When I glanced up at his face, I saw those studious, ever-watchful eyes roaming over the sea of people—most of whom were gawking at him as if he was some stranger.

  No, like he was some celebrity. Which I supposed he was.

  Weird.

  “What do you think?” I asked. “Does everything look smaller?”

  Wasn’t that what happened when people returned to their childhood haunts? Granted, he’d still been going to school here six months ago, but still…same principle.

  He shook his head, taking the question seriously. “No. It looks the same. Exactly the same.”

  “You don’t.”

  He glanced down and I turned away, hoping he hadn’t heard any weirdness in my tone. I mean, it wasn’t his fault that things were changing. That he was changing. This was how it was supposed to be. People moved apart, they changed. Not always together.

  Never say my dad hadn’t taught me anything. Thanks to him, I was well aware that when it came to relationships out of sight, out of mind was a far more realistic adage than absence makes the heart grow fonder.

  “You think I look so different?” he asked.

  I nodded and the truth came blurting out the way it was apt to do around this guy. “You look hot.”

  Surprise flickered across his face as he straightened to his full height, but I couldn’t read the look in his eyes. That was odd in and of itself and it did little to assuage my earlier fears that he was changing so much that soon I’d have to let him go.

  But then that indefinable look was gone, and his brown eyes danced with amusement. “It was just a haircut and some new clothes. But…” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “I do,” I said, linking my arm through his. “I definitely do.”

  We’d headed out the front door, and I wondered if he’d even noticed that every student we passed was watching him like he was a celebrity. Which he was.

  Oh man, that was still too weird to even think about.

  He was a celebrity. A hot celebrity. A billionaire celebrity.

  I’d always known that guys like Mikey were out of my league, but for the first time it was really dawning on me that my best friend was in a class system all his own. He was so far out of my league he might as well be in a different stratosphere. You know, if I liked him like that. Which I didn’t.

  I couldn’t.

  “What does Jamie think of the new look?” I don’t know where it came from. I didn’t even really want to hear the answer. Bringing up the perfect, saintly Jamie was more of a reminder to myself than to him—a reminder of the kind of girl he’d be dating soon enough. The kind of girl he should be dating.

  “What?” He paused to look down at me with a frown. I got a funny flicker of nerves. I’d been trying not to bring her up lately, ever since he’d bitten my head off.

  I don’t like Jamie, okay? Not like that.

  It was embarrassing how often I replayed that particular memory.

  “Why does that matter?” His glower said he knew where I was going with this. Another feeble attempt to push him toward someone else. Push him away before he could walk away. I didn’t need my old therapist to tell me what I was doing, and neither did Oliver.

  “Vance?” he prompted, waiting for an answer.

  My mouth went dry as I stared up at him. I’d always known he was attractive—sometimes I felt like I was the only one who knew it, but I knew it. Now everyone would know. Julie, Jamie…all the J-named girls with big blue eyes and long blonde hair. I swallowed down the thought along with that icky feeling that was starting to become way
too familiar.

  “Liv?” His use of my first name made me flinch. He wasn’t going to let me avoid this. His eyes had that intensity about them, and there was no way he’d let it go.

  “Just…” I shrugged. “It seems like you two are getting close, and—”

  “I’m just helping her with her new nonprofit initiative,” he said.

  “I know.” I nodded enthusiastically as I squeezed his arm. I was still holding on to him, unwilling to let go even though we’d need to part ways soon enough since we’d driven here separately.

  His gaze met mine and for a second I forgot what we were talking about.

  Nonprofits. Fundraising. St. Jamie.

  Got it.

  His eyes were moving over my face in a way I was used to. This was how he worked sometimes. Most of the time. Intensity was his middle name and I found myself holding my breath for his verdict.

  For one terrifying moment I felt like he was seeing more than I wanted him to—like maybe he was seeing something I didn’t even know was there.

  Or maybe I just didn’t want to admit it.

  I tore my gaze away, unable to keep up the staring game that used to never faze me.

  “If you came here to show off your new look, mission accomplished,” I said, grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the parking lot.

  “I came to see you.”

  I ignored that. My heart was beating a little too quickly, and I had no desire to see what would happen if Julie or one of her friends actually got the chance to speak to him.

  “You didn’t have to come to school,” I said. “I mean, I appreciate it, but I have a ride.” It was my mother’s old Volkswagen, but it ran. I stopped short. “Did you buy a new car?”

  His expression was blank. “Was I supposed to?”

  I pressed my lips together, uncertain whether to laugh or cheer. This guy. There was no one else on earth like Oliver Jackson. “Honestly, Jackson, sometimes I think all this wealth is wasted on you.”