FAKING IT WITH MY MILLIONAIRE FRIEND

eting executive, my days were packed with back-to-back meetings, campaign planning, and endless emails. Today was no different, and I sile

been particularly irritable lately, scrutinizing every minor detail with an unforgiving eye. Ms. Thatcher was an older woman with sharp features and a stern expression that seemed permanently etched into her face. Her sal

finding it impossible to concentrate. The anticipation of Robert's message gnawed at

and connected to the real world. They wanted him to have a sense of normalcy, far removed from the privileged bubble he was born into. However, young Robert had cha

d my locker with crickets, and I had spent the rest of the day trying to get them out of my hair and books. Yet, despite his antics, he never crossed the line in

ed during my own moments of needing solitude. He was slumped against the wall, looking utterly defeated, his usual swagger nowhere to be seen.

n?" I asked, my voice fi

ssued an ultimatum: pass his exams or face a summer living with his super strict grandmother, without

not to tell anyone about this," Robert p

ing, and in return, he could help me with the ones I found challenging. And so, an unlikely friend

nuinely smart. He just needed focus and guidance. I would help him with math and science, subjects he struggled with, and in turn, he would help me with hi

d to get back on track. Slowly, the pranks ceased, and our interactions became more about mutual support. Robert even stood

to me with an earnest expression. "You know, Soph, I don't thin

ing to play it cool. "Just make

y ten more minutes until lunch. I could make it. I quickly scanned my inbox, ensuri

ne and hurried to the break room, eager to read Robert's message in peace. I

you are going to love this one�

? Whatever it was, it promised to be the distraction I desperately need

enging times remained strong. Despite the years and the distance, Robert had always been s