FAKING IT WITH MY MILLIONAIRE FRIEND

I sat at my cluttered work desk, the bright glare of my computer screen adding to the tension that was causing my eye to twitch. As a marketing executive, my days were packed with back-to-back meetings, campaign planning, and endless emails. Today was no different, and I silently begged the clock to move faster. I couldn't wait for the lunch break to finally check the message from my high school friend, Robert.

My office space was a mixture of organized chaos: colorful post-it notes stuck to the edges of my monitor, a half-empty coffee cup, and stacks of marketing reports awaiting my attention. My boss, Ms. Marlene Thatcher, had 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 salt-and-pepper hair was always pulled back into a severe bun, and her eyes, a cold steel gray, missed nothing. She had a reputation for being strict and unkind, a relic from another era who believed in discipline over empathy.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to focus on the email I was drafting but finding it impossible to concentrate. The anticipation of Robert's message gnawed at me. Robert had been my friend since high school, a bond forged in an unlikely alliance.

Back in the day, Robert's parents, despite their wealth, had decided he should attend the local school near their estate. They believed it would keep him grounded 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 channeled his energy into becoming a notorious prankster. With his charming looks and popularity, he had everyone at school wrapped around his finger—everyone except me.

I had loathed him for his relentless teasing. He had a habit of placing dead animals in my locker or cracking silly jokes at my expense. One time, he even filled 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 into real cruelty. His pranks were annoying, but they never felt malicious. Our relationship took a dramatic turn during a particularly difficult period for Robert.

One day, I stumbled upon Robert sulking in a quiet, hidden corner of the school. It was a small alcove behind the gym, a place I had discovered during my own moments of needing solitude. He was slumped against the wall, looking utterly defeated, his usual swagger nowhere to be seen. When he noticed me, his initial reaction was to bristle and threaten me into silence about his vulnerable state. But I saw through his facade.

"Robert, what's going on?" I asked, my voice filled with genuine concern.

In a moment of rare honesty, Robert confessed that he was struggling academically. His parents had issued an ultimatum: pass his exams or face a summer living with his super strict grandmother, without any allowances. Desperation had led him to reveal his predicament to me, hoping to secure my silence.

"I'll stop bullying you if you promise not to tell anyone about this," Robert pleaded, his bravado replaced with anxiety.

I agreed, but on one condition: he had to let me help him. I was good at the subjects he was failing, and in return, he could help me with the ones I found challenging. And so, an unlikely friendship was born. We weren't the best of friends, but we developed a mutual respect and understanding.

I remember those study sessions vividly. We would meet in the school library, our heads bent over textbooks and notes. Robert, for all his bravado, was genuinely 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 history and literature. He had a knack for storytelling that made historical events come alive and dissecting themes in literature feel like solving a puzzle.

There were times when our sessions would devolve into fits of laughter over some joke or prank memory, but we always managed to get back on track. Slowly, the pranks ceased, and our interactions became more about mutual support. Robert even stood up for me a few times when other students tried to give me a hard time, using his popularity to shield me from their teasing.

One afternoon, as we were packing up our books, Robert turned to me with an earnest expression. "You know, Soph, I don't think I would have made it through this semester without your help.

I owe you one."I shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Just make sure you pass, and we're even."

The ding of a new email snapped me back to the present. I glanced at the clock—only ten more minutes until lunch. I could make it. I quickly scanned my inbox, ensuring everything was in order before Ms. Thatcher could find another reason to scold me.

As the clock struck noon, I almost leaped out of my chair. I grabbed my phone and hurried to the break room, eager to read Robert's message in peace. I found a quiet corner and opened my phone, my heart racing with anticipation.

"Hey Soph, I have got big news, you are going to love this one😜 . Call me as soon as you can."

My mind raced. What could Robert possibly have up his sleeve this time? Whatever it was, it promised to be the distraction I desperately needed from the pressures of my job and the looming presence of Ms. Thatcher.

Our high school days seemed so distant now, yet the bond we had formed during those challenging times remained strong. Despite the years and the distance, Robert had always been someone I could count on. I quickly dialed his number, my fingers trembling with excitement.