Part 1I’ve Been Dying To Confess To You

Word on campus was that the golden boy of the pre-law program had a very strict moral code.

Whenever a girl confessed her feelings and gave him a gift, he would reject her flat out. But to keep his conscience clear, he would always pay her back for whatever the gift cost.

As a broke college student surviving on instant noodles, desperation bred a wicked idea in my head.

Clutching a cheap beaded bracelet I bought off a street vendor for two bucks, I blocked his path and put on my most soulful gaze. "I have a massive crush on you. Do you want to go out with me? Oh, and I bought you this bracelet!"

The golden boy looked at me. "No. How much was the bracelet? I'll transfer you the money."

Me: "Seven hundred and eighty dollars. And fifty cents."

The golden boy: "?"

* * *

While I was staring miserably at the glaring deficit on my tuition bill, my roommate was hanging off her loft bed, eagerly spilling the latest campus gossip.

"Did you guys hear? Weston from the law school rejected another girl yesterday."

"Oh, I heard about that! She gave him an engraved fountain pen. He rejected her, pulled out his phone, and Venmoed her a hundred bucks on the spot. He said he doesn't accept gifts, but he pays for what he's given. The guy has principles."

I shot up from my mattress like a rocket. "Wait, seriously? He reimburses the original price of the confession gifts?"

"Yup. It's his golden rule. He doesn't take advantage of anyone. A rejection is a rejection, but he refuses to owe anyone a favor."

I thought about the pathetic twenty-seven dollars sitting in my bank account. Then I glanced back at the four-digit nightmare on my tuition portal.

Poverty really does awaken the criminal mastermind in you.

A brilliant, flawless scheme instantly formed in my brain.

Over the next two days, I memorized Weston's class schedule and the routes he usually walked on campus.

Then, I stopped by a local flea market stall just off campus to pick out a bracelet.

"How much for this string of beads?"

"Fifty."

"Are you out of your mind? I'll give you two bucks."

"Deal."

"..."

"Don't worry, sweetheart," the vendor grinned. "This bracelet is blessed for romance. Whoever you give it to will definitely fall in love with you!"

I didn't care about the romance. I just needed it to bless my tuition fund.

Everything was set.

At four-thirty on a Wednesday afternoon, right outside the law building, I perfectly ambushed Weston just as he walked out of his seminar.

He looked even better in person than he did in the rumors. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark slacks, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, he looked like he was walking around with his own personal spotlight.

I swallowed hard, took a massive step forward, and planted myself right in his way.

I shoved the bracelet toward him.

"Weston, I have a massive crush on you. Do you want to go out with me? This is a bracelet I bought just for you!"

Weston stopped in his tracks. He didn't even blink. "No."

My heart leaped into my throat. I was just waiting for those magic words.

"How much was the gift? I'll transfer you the money."

Bingo.

Without batting an eyelash, I recited the exact number I had calculated beforehand. "Seven hundred and eighty dollars. And fifty cents."

Weston stared at the flimsy string of beads that looked like it was going to snap if the wind blew too hard. A look of pure disbelief crossed his face. "This thing is nearly eight hundred bucks? Maybe I'm just out of touch, but is this some new form of daylight robbery?"

My cheeks burned, but I bit the bullet and spouted absolute nonsense with a straight face. "I took this bracelet to a spiritual guru to get it specially blessed. He said our auras are perfectly aligned, and this will ward off toxic relationships for three years. You get what you pay for."

A low chuckle escaped his lips.

His eyes rippled with amusement, bright and clear like sunlight hitting the water. The corner of his mouth curved up.

He was so ridiculously handsome that my conscience almost woke up and forced me to confess the scam.

But my sheer poverty kept me completely blind to guilt.

"You're an interesting one."

He tilted his chin. "Show me your Venmo QR code."

My eyes lit up like fireworks. I whipped out my phone, pulled up the code, and shoved the screen toward him. I moved so fast, terrified he might change his mind.

A soft chime rang out from my phone. You have received eight hundred dollars.

My internal organs practically threw a parade.

"You... you sent twenty dollars too much!" I tried my best to keep my face neutral.

"Keep the change. I hate typing decimals."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked past me without a second glance.

I spun around and yelled at his retreating back, my voice dripping with the most genuine gratitude I had ever felt in my life. "Thank you, boss! May you graduate with a 4.0! May you drown in scholarship offers! May all your toxic exes stay away! May you win every bet you ever make!"

His footsteps paused for a fraction of a second. He didn't turn around, just lazily raised a hand in acknowledgment. "Enough."

He left me with the view of a very cool, very generous back.

I stood there clutching my phone, almost crying tears of joy.