1. Worst Name on Earth

I’m a poor college student surviving on a scholarship—short, a little chubby. Not that little chubby...emm...okay I must admit - I am BIG- Yeah… living the dream. Still, I’ve got one thing going for me: art. Especially painting. That talent somehow got me a full-coverage scholarship and, more importantly, a best friend who saved me from dropping out.

Lindsay Robinson.

Lindsay Robinson is the daughter of a wealthy Greek conglomerate family. She’s tall, beautiful, pale, and wrapped head-to-toe in designer brands. We couldn’t be more different. She’s studying business management, preparing to take over her father’s empire one day—since her older brother has zero interest in business. He’s an international football athlete instead. Famous, talented… basically everything people call “unfairly perfect.”

“Rose… Rose…!”

A woman’s voice called from behind me. I was standing in the campus courtyard, right outside my faculty building. I turned—and saw Lindsay marching toward me with a visibly annoyed face. She was dressed head-to-toe in Burberry. Honestly, she looked more like she belonged on a runway than on a university. Nothing she wore was ever “normal.” Even her bag looked like an expensive woven basket an aunt would take to the market… except hers cost half a billion. That’s Lindsay for you to understand.

“Rose Watson! You’re the most annoying best friend ever!” she snapped as she reached me. “How dare you skip my birthday party last night! I waited for you all night!”

Ugh ... Right. The party.

Her twentieth birthday. She rented an expensive club just to celebrate it. Only ten people were invited—including me, and her older brother. The Super - Ultra - Maximum Annoying human kind on earth... David Robinson. International football star. Also known as the man with the “best butt of the year.” (Iewww) Yes, that’s apparently a real title people talk about. Ridiculous. And he was exactly the reason I didn’t show up.

Because Rose Watson and David Robinson in the same space? A disaster waiting to happen. We need at least a thousand meters of separation for peace to exist—like two magnets that refuse to meet without chaos. David has this special talent for calculating my clothing size out loud and estimating my body fat percentage without permission. Truly a gifted man. Unfortunately.

“I caught a cold. Hehe,” I said, forcing a sheepish grin. My brain was still searching for the most believable excuse it could invent… and somehow landed on that masterpiece.

Lindsay narrowed her eyes. “Still, you should’ve told me! Sent a message or something. You could’ve taken medicine, worn a jacket, taken a taxi—stop making excuses!” And she was right. I was making excuses. But the truth? I just didn’t want to see David.

“I was really sick, Linds… sorry,” I said again, putting on my most pitiful face. She sighed, clearly not buying it, but finally dropped it.

“Anyway. This afternoon you’re coming to my apartment. I’m preparing my engagement event with Rick next week at the Ritz Carlton. You have to be there. No excuses. If I have to, I’ll drag you myself.”

I groaned internally. What excuse can I even use this time? And worse… that human wall of muscle might be there too.

David. He always brags about having exactly zero percent body fat, while I probably have more than seventy. Do I know that for sure? Of course not. But still. Geez. I’ve been built like this since I was born. No diet ever changed it. But at least I’m smart. And talented. That counts, right?

"IIf I have to, I’ll make David carry you there,” Lindsay added casually. “At least his muscles will be useful for once.” That made me laugh despite myself thinking any possible way out of that event.

"Let’s eat. I’m starving,” I said. “You’re paying, right? My allowance hasn’t come in yet this week.” Lindsay already knew my situation well. Last semester, I almost dropped out because my scholarship payment was delayed and I had to cover everything in just two days.

She saved me. We sat in the cafeteria. She ordered two plates of spaghetti. When I say two, I don’t mean for both of us—she was on her usual “salad-only! self-discipline mode,” while listening patiently to me complain about life.

“It’s fine,” she said casually. “That’s David’s money anyway.” I froze mid-bite.

“…HIS money? Why are you only telling me this now?!”

She shrugged. “He was the only one with cash at the time. My allowance was gone, so I asked him. Ahha."

Then she added with a bright smile, completely unbothered, “Besides, it’s David. You don’t have to pay him back. He’s loaded anyway. He just became a underwear brand ambassador.”

I almost choked on my spaghetti.

“This is worse!” I hissed. “So I’ve basically been eating off his money?!”

Lindsay laughed. “Relax. He won’t care. And he won't notice anyway."

But I cared. Because now I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’d been mocked by that man for years… and now he was the one unknowingly paying my tuition and meals? Great. Just great. My life was officially a joke.

Later that afternoon, my phone vibrated. A message from Lindsay:

“Be at my apartment by 5. And don’t run away. David is already here.” My stomach dropped.

“…He’s already there?” Another vibration came immediately after. This time… from an unknown number.

"Short girl. Don’t be late.” My blood ran cold.

Only one person ever called me that. And I hadn’t even replied yet when another message popped up— “I’ll be waiting. And I want my money back in person!!"

WHAT?! SO HE KNEW?!