Crushing on My Billionaire Best Friend: A Hot Romantic Comedy

by Jolie Day

“I didn’t call anybody tonight.” I crossed my arms.

  “There’s still time,” she said, watching the phone buzz so far off the table that it almost fell off.

  “I’m having a perfectly nice time just like this, thank you very much.”

  We went back to watching her show, but inside, I was torn. Why was a beautiful woman like her still a virgin? I mean, I was kind of thrilled that she was, but who was this random Tinder asshole she was having phone sex with?

  “So, he whispers sweet nothings in your ear?” I asked.

  “Yes, but he can be very naughty, too.”

  Fuck. I had an uneasy feeling burning in my gut.

  I wanted to know more. What was his name? What did he look like? What did he do for a living? I wanted to dig deeper, but the more I learned, the more it bugged the shit out of me.

  I’m just being overprotective, I thought. I’d always looked out for her, and this was no different. That should have been the end of it, but it nagged at me for the rest of the night. I hated to think of Laney calling up some guy who meant nothing to her when she was lonely. But why did that bother me so much? It was the exact same thing I did almost every night.

  “Does he make you come?”

  Laney cut her eyes at me. “Oliver, too far. You can’t ask me that.”

  “Just answer.”

  “Not always, no, usually I have to…” She shook her head.

  “…make yourself come after you’ve hung up.” Fuck, the thought of Laney touching herself made my body come to life again. What I wouldn’t—

  Then I got distracted by the persistent buzzing of my phone, which was starting to get on my damn nerves.

  “The Triple T’s are getting restless,” Laney mumbled under her breath.

  “What? What did you just say?”

  “Nothing.” She grinned.

  “No! You said that the other day at the driving range, too! What the hell is this Triple-T thing you keep talking about?”

  She let out a sigh. “It’s your type.”

  “Type? I don’t have a type. I give equal attention to all skin colors…blondes, brunettes, redheads…”

  Laney held up three fingers in the air. “Tall,” she said, slowly lowering the first finger, followed by the second two. “Thin. Tan. That’s your type. So, don’t try to sell me on all skin colors because I have never once ever seen you with someone who was pale.”

  “Oh, really?” I snatched up my phone. I knew it was childish, but she seemed to be having a good time…so I decided to humor her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Showing you proof.”

  “Oliver, no,” she groaned. “Forget I said anything. I really don’t need to see photos of your girl flings, okay? I see enough of them around here.”

  “Audrey,” I went on anyway, holding the phone up to her face to show a smiling dark-skinned girl. “She had everything a man could want. I really liked her. She was pretty and smart.”

  “And how long did that last?” She snorted.

  “Actually, longer than the others,” I said. “She left me, by the way. She wasn’t even near to the average relationship time span for me.”

  She laughed even louder than before. “Is that two nights instead of one? Oh! When you sleep with a girl more than three times, do you take her home to meet your mother?”

  Laney fell over in hysterics while I glared at her. “Very funny. All right…so, let’s see your guy.”

  She sat straight up, and her smile vanished. “What? What guy?”

  “Your Tinder guy.”

  “No way. I didn’t want to see your girl’s photo. You forced me, so it’s not even a fair trade.”

  “I’m just curious to know what competition is out there—that’s all.” I shrugged innocently. “Unless you’re making him up.”

  “Oh, my God, Oliver.” She reached between the cushions where her phone had fallen and quickly pulled up a photo. “Here. His name is Frank. He’s a doctor. He’s incredibly nice.”

  “And probably incredibly boring.” My eyes flickered with satisfaction when she didn’t disagree. I mean, he must be if all they did was phone sex. Also, what kind of name was Frank? Fraaank. Sounded lame as shit.

  Still, the moment I laid eyes on him, I was certain that not knowing was definitely better than knowing. My heart sank at the sight of the bronzed muscular guy staring back at me from the screen. He wasn’t built like I was, but he definitely worked out. And traveled to the Bahamas frequently judging by the tan. I fucking hated the dude. A doctor?

  I shrugged. “You could do better.”

  She cut her eyes over to me. “Gee, I appreciate your confidence in me, but uh…my track record says differently.”

  I tapped my foot on the carpet anxiously. I was burning with the need to tell her just how much better she deserved, but I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling the way I did inside. I regretted bringing up the whole damn thing, and now there was nothing I could do to erase ole Frank’s stupid face from my brain.

  “What kind of doctor is he, anyway?” I asked.

  She seemed hesitant to answer. “A podiatrist,” she said slowly, refusing to look at me.

  “A foot doctor?” I chuckled. “So, you know I have to ask…”

  “No, you really don’t,” she groaned.

  “Is he whispering freaky foot stuff into the phone? Like as a fetish? Talking about sucking and licking your toes and shit?” It was somewhat funny to think about in general, but a sick feeling was creeping up inside as I thought about it with Laney.

  “No,” she shrieked.

  I breathed out a sigh of relief. I didn’t want anybody doing weird crap to her pretty feet—or any part of her body. But then again, why the hell did I care?

  I’d begged her to stop being weird around me, and now I was being weird as fuck. The whole thing was making my head hurt. I was desperate for a blowie, a shower, and a good night’s sleep to get my head back on straight.

  13

  Laney

  Oliver had been right about us needing to lift the veil of weirdness I’d let settle over us. But suddenly, it seemed like it had been lifted a little too much.

  Our new routine of regularly staying in and watching movies together, or going out for dinner and drinks, had blown my girlfriend fantasy into all new proportions. It was too easy to forget that we weren’t a couple. We were just missing the main components of kissing, well, and more importantly, sex. Okay, so I guessed, really—we were far off from a relationship.

  Nonetheless, I was losing myself in the comfort of it all, and Oliver seemed to be spinning off into something else entirely. I couldn’t get over whatever his deal had been the other night on the couch. He’d bombarded me with questions about my almost-non-existent sex life (if phone sex even counted), only to turn around and get weird as hell the moment I’d given him any details.

  I was in no hurry for anything to change, regardless of how annoying all the questions rolling around in my brain were. Instead, I was ready to focus my attention on having a nice, relaxing weekend.

  I headed home from work.

  As I walked in the front door, I saw Oliver sitting at the dining room table. There was a stack of mail in front of him, as well as a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

  “What’s going on here?”

  He grinned. “You got a letter from NYU.”

  “Oh. My. God.” A surge of nervousness pulsed through me, making it hard to move, speak, or breathe. I walked over to him slowly, eyeing the NYU-stamped envelope with fear and excitement.

  He slid the letter over to me. “I got out the champagne. But if this isn’t the letter I’m expecting it to be, I’ve also got a bottle of bourbon. Depending on what you’re in the mood for after opening that thing.”

  I nodded and gently tugged at the corner of the envelope. I winced as I did it, as if a pile of venomous snakes might jump from inside as soon as it was opened.

  “I can’t do it.” I exhaled, shovi
ng it back into his hands. “You have to open it for me.”

  Oliver lifted a brow. “You sure?”

  I shook my head earnestly and waited while he tore into it. I was holding my breath as he unfolded the letter and skimmed it. His eyes darted back and forth across the words, but his expression was unreadable. The moment stretched on for what felt like an eternity as I waited for him to tell me what it said.

  Say it.

  Please say it.

  Please tell me I got in.

  Finally, a huge smile spread across his face. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not surprised. Laney.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You got in!”

  Slamming my hands flat to the table with my eyes open wide, I barked, “What? You’re sure?”

  He turned it around for me to read it myself. “I’m positive. You got in, kid! You did it!”

  The dining room chair went flying backward behind me as I jumped to my feet and began bouncing up and down with loud, shrill screams.

  He stood up and popped the bottle of champagne, but the minute his hands were free, I lost all control and threw my arms around his neck. It was only meant to be a quick, friendly hug, but I was bursting with excitement. My body was reacting in strange ways and doing things without my permission. I wasn’t sure if Oliver was operating under the same pressure or not, but his arms wrapped tightly around me.

  At some point in the shuffle of it all, he lifted me up as if I weighed nothing—he was so strong, all these muscles, he wasn’t even breathing heavy!—and my legs wrapped around his waist, bringing us face-to-face. Briefly, everything came to a stop. I wasn’t screaming or jumping. I was staring deep into Oliver’s eyes, feeling overwhelmed with gratitude, love, and everything else all at once. I was just one big bundle of emotions. And it sent my lips hurtling into his. They were surprisingly tender, but with a sexy firmness that hinted at what a good first kiss he’d be.

  The moment our lips touched, I realized the severity of what I was doing. Sirens started wailing in my brain, blaring on repeat—Oh, my God. Alert! Alert! You’re kissing Oliver Humphries!

  It all happened so fast.

  I thought for sure he would pull away before I had a chance to do anything. But his gentle lips against mine, they softened, and I melted. Our mouths parted in unison, only to touch and tighten all over again as we melded together. The kiss did something amazing to my belly, and I forced myself to rip my mouth away before I fainted. Touching my finger to the tingling on my bottom lip, I quickly wiggled out of his arms, firmly planting my feet back on the floor.

  What had I just done? I couldn’t believe I had just kissed him.

  Him.

  Out of my league, uber-hot jock, Oliver Humphries.

  And to make matters worse, he kissed me back. That was bad, right?

  A mistake.

  A mess.

  A huge confusing clusterfuck of bad decisions that was going to make my head explode if I didn’t start backtracking super-fast.

  “Sorry, I—”

  “All good.” Oliver started speaking at the exact same time, his lips still wet, and stopped when I did. I did a happy dance for a few moments, trying to stutter through some sort of awkward explanation. But my words kept spilling over each other, rendering us both speechless. I adjusted my fogged-up glasses that’d slid down my nose.

  “Go change,” he said finally, his gaze indefinable. “No biggie. We’re going out to celebrate.”

  “But you already opened the champagne,” I reminded him, eager to avoid discussing anything that had happened in the past few minutes (not that he was interested in any discussion, either). “And I have to shower.”

  He poured a glass and held it out to me. “For you to drink while you get ready. Take your time.”

  I accepted it with a gracious smile and floated to my room on a cloud. Like a fairy with beautiful fluffy wings. I could feel his eyes boring a hole into me as I defied gravity, and I had to wonder—Was he just as surprised-slash-amazed-slash-stunned as I was about what had just happened? Not to mention, aroused? Holy. Shit! That really happened!

  And not just that, I would officially have my PhD before age thirty. How freaking cool was that? Back in my room, I pulled out my phone and quickly sent out a group text to my dad, Lisa, and anybody else I knew who I thought might bask in the achievement with me. My dad, of course, immediately responded, demanding that I come over for dinner as soon as possible to celebrate. I tossed the phone back down to my bed thinking, Dinner will come soon enough, Dad. But tonight…it’s just me and Oliver.

  I knew just the dress to put on to celebrate. A new red dress hung in the back of my closet—one that I’d been saving for some kind of special occasion without knowing what it might be. Now it was clear that this was the perfect moment to wear it.

  It was sexier than anything I usually wore. So much so, that when I bought it, I wondered if I would ever actually be brave enough to wear it out anywhere. I held it up to my body and studied the reflection in the mirror. Wow!

  I was just accepted into the doctorate program at NYU. I just kissed Oliver Humphries. I’m a queen. Thank you, Universe. I can do anything and wear anything I want to.

  I hopped into the shower and rushed out to dry off and slip into the red number. I missed Lisa more than ever, but if she couldn’t be around for this, Oliver would no doubt make up for her not being here. Superwoman 2.0, here I come. Oh, and by the way, I wouldn’t mind another accidental kiss (when was my next NYU acceptance letter coming?).

  I stared at the mirror and my reflection in the spaghetti-strapped dress. It was short, stopping in the middle of my thighs and showing off ample cleavage. I had instinctively put my hair up once it was dry, but with one big sip of champagne, I pulled out the clip, and let it all come flowing down over my shoulders. I flipped it upside down and put in some frizz-be-gone and then hair spray to amp up the volume, adding a sexy smokey eye with catlike liner and matching red lipstick. The final touch was a pair of strappy heels that only made the curves of my ass and hips pop even more. Last but not least, I removed my glasses, and put in my contacts.

  What was I doing? Clearly, the champagne and thrill of the moment must have gone to my head. Hell, I’d never been this daring.

  You are looking fiiine, girl. That’s what you’re doing. I mimicked Lisa’s voice in my head. If she could only see me now. She’d be so proud.

  I held my phone out in front of my reflection and snapped a selfie, with kissing pouty lips and all, so she could see just how well I was killing it.

  Laney: Just thought you’d like to see how I’m celebrating my acceptance letter. Oliver’s taking me out.

  Laney: Oh, btw—we kissed.

  Laney: PS: Don’t get excited. It was an accident. Talk to you later ;)

  I quickly switched the contents of my large daily purse into a small handbag I’d snagged and rushed out my bedroom door before I had time to change my mind.

  Just as my hand reached for the doorknob, my phone lit up with Lisa’s response:

  Lisa: Yassss, girl, get it! But also—WHAT!? Your ass better call me later. Or better yet, tell me all about it IN PERSON tomorrow when I land!

  14

  Oliver

  All I could think about while Laney showered was the kiss we’d shared and how I wanted more. I loved it, loved her spontaneity, and how she’d wrapped her legs around my waist. But then I remembered she was a virgin.

  “I’m ready!” Laney called out, breaking me from my thoughts. “What do you think?”

  I could see her out of the corner of my eye as I glanced over the day’s finance section of the newspaper. My gaze darted in her direction to respond, but the moment I caught a glimpse of her curves wrapped up in that tight red dress, my entire body froze.

  She was dressed to kill.

  My brain spasmed for a moment, thinking I saw somebody else standing in her place. I did a double take, before fixing my gaze on her, taking in the full sight of her. L
aney.

  I drank her in from top to bottom. The slightly tan skin of her thighs was exposed—her pretty curves accentuated by the heels on her feet. By the time my gaze settled on her cleavage spilling from the top of the dress, I felt my throat tighten and my cock twitch, aching to come out and play.

  No.

  I needed to stop.

  This was Laney. My best friend.

  It didn’t matter how much I wanted her.

  I couldn’t…

  “Right, we’re ready then,” I murmured.

  “What?” She stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

  “You look great. Really great.” I tried to dismiss all the dirty thoughts that’d just rang through my mind.

  I felt my hands twitch as I plopped the paper on the kitchen counter. They longed to graze against her soft skin, exploring those curves firsthand. Be the first man to—

  What was I thinking? Get a grip, man! You’re best friends. She’s not one of your hookups. You can’t think of her like that. This is Laney, for fuck’s sake!

  She was more off-limits than a sex tape of my parents. Geez, why did I let my brain wander in the gross territory. My parents? Fuck.

  “You okay?” Her cheeks had turned a light shade of pink from the awkwardness of the moment.

  And it was all my fault. I was the one making it awkward as hell.

  “What the hell, Laney?” I chuckled. “I had no idea. You just took me by surprise. I’ve never seen you look so stunning. Now, let me show you a beautiful night.”

  “Aww, don’t make me blush.” She smiled, stepping toward the door with her purse in hand.

  As we walked down my hall toward the elevator, I had to work overtime to avert my eyes from the shadow just below her dress line. I could see the hint of her ass bouncing underneath it with every step, and it was making it hard…to think or speak—let alone act without losing complete control and having my dick taking over.

  The elevator doors closed in front of us. We were left to the mercy of the cramped space with only the two of us inside. I stared at her once more, taking in the ravishing beauty that she was.