The friend request read, "See that? I'm rich."
I ignored him. What a lunatic.
I logged into my other Instagram account, where my last chat with a mutual friend had stopped two days ago.
"I think I like a girl, but I don't know how to woo her."
Ah, that's my area of expertise. Jason's had too many ex-girlfriends to count, all thanks to his wealth.
"Are you rich?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Then spoil her."
"Won't that count as harassment?"
"I'm not saying you should physically throw money at her! Spend on her, show her you have money. Get it?"
"Kinda."
I passed on Jason's playboy tactics, but after dealing with Wesley, I began to doubt it.
I stared at the chat window for a long time, unsure of what to say next. He messaged me first.
"Your method isn’t working."
"How is it not working?" I was on the verge of tears, probably led someone astray with Jason's playboy tactics.
"The girl doesn't seem interested. She wouldn't even add me on Instagram."
"Maybe... just maybe, our approach was too aggressive. How about we try a different strategy?"
"What should I do then?"
"Take it slow. Create chances to 'coincidentally' meet her. Over time, she might feel a connection."
After a long pause, he replied, "Got it."
Good, as long as he got it. Thankfully, he didn't blame me.
Jason isn’t reliable either.
I sighed in relief and prepared for bed, only to hear Clara on a call.
"Jason, I miss you."
"Mm, I know. How about you buy me a bag? We could meet next week."
"Thanks, Jason. You're the best."
Her voice was so sugary that it gave me chills, especially in this 90-degree weather.
Clara became class president without even campaigning.
On the first day of class, we had to pick up textbooks. Clara eyed Isabelle and me.
"Grace and Isabelle, and you guys, go get the textbooks."
Leona wasn't there, and our classmates exchanged looks, wondering if Isabelle and I had offended Clara.
We stayed put while the boys started moving. They all looked rather scrawny.
"How can you ignore class duties on the first day?" Clara rapped her knuckles on the desk, glaring at Isabelle and me.
"We’ll help. Why wouldn’t we?" Isabelle spoke up, smiling sweetly at the remaining boys in class.
"We can't carry them. If you guys help us with the books, I’ll treat you to steak for a week." Isabelle imitated Clara's coy tone perfectly.
But she did it more naturally.
Isabelle, without missing a beat, sent out several big red envelopes in the group chat.
The boys were quick to jump up, eager to help.
I recognized one of them as a guy Clara was rumored to have a thing with.
Clara’s face turned green with envy.
Isabelle thanked them gracefully and whispered to me, "Clara's way of being coy really works."
I thought your money worked better.
Ignoring Clara, I gave Isabelle a thumbs up. "Nice."
Thankfully, Clara didn’t stir up trouble that day.
The dorm's internet was too slow, so I decided to hit an internet cafe in the evening.
Just as I stepped out of the campus gate, Wesley nearly hit me with his Porsche.
"What a coincidence," Wesley greeted from the driver's seat.
"Nearly ran me over and you call it a coincidence?" I rolled my eyes. "Compensation for emotional distress, please."
I extended my hand, pretending to demand payment.
Men would usually be put off by girls who always talk about money, right?
