Page 5 of My Best Friend's Billionaire Brother
I spent years pining over William Summers. Casting sidelong glances his way, hoping he’d notice me. My crush first materialized in middle school. He’d been a freshman in high school at the time, and the most crush-worthy guy around. My best friend’s older brother.
I spent all of high school trying to get his attention, and then when we went off to college, I still tried. We went to different schools, but I’d still see him around and on holidays when I’d spent time with Chloe and their family.
And then there was the night I threw in the towel. Will and his roommates were throwing a party at their house. They were seniors, and Chloe and I were sophomores. We’d attended, and Chloe spent the night flirting with a guy she had a crush on at the time. I’d seen it as the perfect opportunity to talk to Will. To maybe get my feelings out in the open and see if he felt the same.
I’d had maybe a bit too much liquid courage, but I knew it was now or never.
I spent the evening hanging around Will, summoning the courage and hoping against hope that he’d feel the same way. But I’d never spilled my guts. And honestly, it’s good that I didn’t. Because later, he introduced Chloe and I to his new girlfriend. They’djust met a few weeks ago. I nodded and smiled like I was the happiest in the world for them.
And I’d gone home and cried myself to sleep. And no one ever knew. Not even Chloe. Especially not Chloe.
I’d assumed all those feelings were long gone. That the naïve girl with a crush was long behind me, and here I was, a strong, independent woman. But seeing Will last weekend had all but shattered those stupid walls I’d so meticulously built up around me.
And now here I am, staring down at my phone as if someone had just texted me a fucking bomb threat.
It’s not like any of this really even matters. I have Owen. Sure, it’s pretty new—just about four months or so—and it’s yet to be seen whether he turns out to be my forever guy, but still. And it’s not like Will does—or has ever—like me. He made that abundantly clear over the years.
“God,” I mutter to myself, slamming the fridge shut. I definitely won’t be eating tonight. There’s no way.
I craft a text and shoot it back.
Josie: Nothing. We can definitely get together. It’s probably a good idea to start planning now.
I sigh. Whether I like it or not, I’m going to have to face my unrequited crush from childhood. Not exactly on my bingo card for the year, but here we go.
Will suggests a trendy restaurant in the North End where we can grab dinner and drinks and discuss the upcoming Vegas trip. I hadn’t planned on going outtoday, meaning my hair is an unwashed mess. Regardless, I throw it up into what I’m hoping is at least an acceptable messy bun, throw on some makeup, and head out the door.
By the time I get to the restaurant, he already has a table. I fight the surge of butterflies that appear in my stomach upon seeing him. It’s just anxiety over the feelings that used to be there, I assure myself. Nothing more.
I tuck a few flyaway strands of hair behind my ear and make my way to the table.
Will looks up as I approach and offers a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s not even a smile, really. More like a grimace of acknowledgement.
“Hey,” I say in greeting, sliding into the seat across from him.
“Glad you could make it,” he says.
I purse my lips. God, this is feeling like a business meeting. Which, I guess it kind of is? Well, not business, per se. But we’re here to plan parties forChloe and Turner, not catch up as old friends. Were we ever even friends?
“Do you want a drink?” Will’s question pulls me from my racing thoughts.
“Yeah,” I answer. Fuck yes, I’ll need a drink if I plan on making it through tonight. Hell, I’ll need dozens of drinks over the coming months. I scan the menu and order one of their signature cocktails when a server comes by. We also order a few appetizers to share.
Once the server takes our menus and leaves, Will leans forward, his forearms on the table. I can’t help but notice the way he’s rolled his sleeves up—just below his elbow. Have his forearms always been that sexy? Of course they have—all of him has always been sexy.That’s why you liked him in the first place, I remind myself.
I resist the urge to physically shake my head. God. What is wrong with me?
“So, Vegas,” Will says.
I chuckle. “Vegas,” I repeat, taking my drink after our server drops it off. “That’s gonna be … fun.”
He snorts. He doesn’t smile, but his eyes do light up just a bit.
I raise an eyebrow. “You dreading that weekend just as much as I am?”
He shoots me a look. It’s the most direct eye contact we’ve made since I sat down, and his gaze pierces me to my soul. I swallow and look away.
“Yeah, it’s going to be one hell of a bachelorette party,” I say.
