Crushing on my Billionaire Best Friend - Jolie Day Page 0,3

Bubbles, perched next to her on a leash with that giant pink bow flopping around on the side of her head, piercing the small space with her little yapping—she was so cute. I’d always loved that dog, and now everything I owned was gone because of a cute little puppy? I didn’t understand. I mean, yeah, accidents happened, I knew, but Princess Bubbles had always been so well-behaved. I just couldn’t imagine her setting the entire building on fire (okay, the inside, but still). Mrs. Mosely would even allow me to watch her from time to time when she needed to do grocery shopping. I’d never once seen Princess do anything but lay at my feet or on my lap and beg for belly rubs. But now, I was homeless. What was I going to do?

My chest rose and fell as I clung to that breathing technique I thought I needed moments before, but apparently, it only worked for melodramatic crises and not real ones. Because it was quickly spiraling away from me, leaving me feeling like I was hyperventilating right there in my rolling lab chair. All of my stuff was gone. My clothes. My memories. My letters. My books. My kitchen stuff. My favorite “I love me” coffee mug! My favorite sweatshirt! It was a school-logo hoodie that just so happened to match the one Oliver always wore. Oh, and poor little Oliver. He’d surely be a bubbling goop of pink in what was left of my nightstand. Thank God firefighters would never find my little secret toy of joy. This was a nightmare. All of my favorite things I thought had been so safe tucked away in the security of my apartment were now destroyed.

Okay, think, Elaine. One thing at a time. What comes next? I glanced over to the stacks of papers around my computer and the slides glowing from the screen. Obviously not that. What comes after work? Home. Bed. I have no home, but I have to find a bed to sleep in.

One downside of working all the time was that it left me with no time to socialize, which meant I didn’t have many close friends. That’s why any recent noise from my phone was usually a notification from Oliver—one of the only people I ever bothered getting to know and keeping around in my life.

With one exception: Lisa. She was a hairdresser I’d run into outside of my regular morning bodega stop, while she ducked out of the salon to grab some coffee in between clients. She’d complimented my outfit and my figure. It’d been one of the rare moments in my life when I could eye another woman up and down, and realize that she was fierce…and yet, she didn’t fit all the cookie-cutter beauty standards.

She had dark skin, was tall, slender, but not what you’d call typically beautiful—she wasn’t one of the fake-breasted, nose-in-the-air NYC-model types you’d normally see. No, Lisa barely had a chest at all, and she didn’t care. People often called her a tomboy (her words), but I didn’t see it. She carried herself with grace and confidence. I’d stood there on the street corner in awe of her—a feeling which only intensified as we’d gotten to know each other.

All I could stutter back in reply was, “I want to be just like you.” And I meant it. I wanted to know how to wear my flaws (if you could call them that) like pearls around my neck.

“Girl, I want to be just like you”—She’d smiled back without missing a beat—“and have those girls!” She’d gestured to my breasts and then to her own boyish chest (again, her words), then shrugged it off like, “Oh, well.” She’d laughed and asked if I wanted to go and get a cup of coffee. I nodded and followed her like a lost little puppy. The rest was history. Lisa was my go-to girl for support, and she taught me a thing or two about being a sassy, confident woman—and owning it. She started cutting and styling my hair in exchange for me helping her out with her taxes and other business things—she wanted to learn to branch out on her own as an independent hairdresser. I had always been good with numbers, graphs, finances—you name it. I brought my analytical brain to the table, and she always knew how to make me laugh or bring me out of my shell.

And right now, I wanted nothing more than to cry on