We sit quietly for a long while. The silence isn't awkward and surprisingly he's not only hot but an enjoyable company too. An odd and very rare combination. I know.

With the faint illuminations of the neon lights nearby this building, Max looks exceptionally handsome. The blue light mixes with the red one from the broken love billboard, falling on his features, giving it an attractive glow.

"So this is what you thought I was missing out on?" I skeptically ask, drawing another small sip from my disgusting beer.

A wide smile spreads across his face as he nods, but when he notices my expression, he waves his hand around, motioning at the streets down below, with people going on about their night.

"Yeah, sitting on the rooftop of a ruin of a building in downtown, with cheap beer and stranger by your side, mark off three things you've probably never done in your life. You're welcome for ticking them off."

I scoff. "What makes you say that?"

He makes a weird face at me, drawing his brows together as he gapes at me. "Hey, don't pull off that act on me. It might work on others, but you can't trick me."

I squint him. "What act?"

"That you come from an average family, living an average life."

I take my time sipping the beer. "What makes you think that?" I mumble against the head of the bottle, not looking at him.

So-called Max chuckles. "A girl who wears a three hundred grand worth of a watch to a frat party cannot be anything but a billionaire."

I blow air, guiltily glancing at my wristwatch. Damn it. How did he recognize the brand?

"That's an exaggeration." I attempt one last time for downplaying the situation.

"Right," he drawls, clearly not buying into it.

I down the remaining of the beer and put the bottle aside before crossing my arms. "Fine," I huff. "So now tell me your real name," I demand as I turn slightly to face him.

His eyebrows jump up with surprise. "My real name? I told you-"

"No rich family names their kid just Max. It's either short for something or you're lying. On top of that, you don't look like a Max."

My final comment makes him laugh.

"I don't look like a Max?" he asks with amused disbelief. "What are you, some expert in matching names with appearances?"

I shrug and arch an eyebrow at him, waiting expectantly.

He stares at me for a long moment, contemplating before sighing and giving in. "Fine... yeah, Max is my middle name... kind of, it's short for Maxwell." He throws an annoyed glance at my grinning face.

I knew it! "And your actual name?"

"Preston," he grudgingly says.

I have to bite my lip to stop myself from giggling. "Oof, posh."

He glares at me.

"Let me guess, Preston is your paternal grandad's name and Maxwell is your maternal grandpa's name?" I hold my index finger, studying his features.

"You're annoying," he mutters, rolling his eyes.

"You mean smart." I grin, wiggling my eyebrows.

He huffs, "No I don't."

I giggle. "But I did say it right."

Reluctantly he nods.

Bumping my fist in the air, I enthuse, "I knew it!"

"Yeah yeah," he rolls his eyes and shifts on his spot. "Your turn, I still don't know your name."

I hold my head up, still smiling widely. "Valentina."

A corner of his lips lifts up. "It matches your personality. Elegant but fun too."

"Aww, thanks."

We smile at each other, our eyes locking for a brief moment before both of us look away instantly.

I drum my fingers on the ledge, swinging my legs a little. "So... are you private jet rich or business class rich?"

He chuckles. "That's a weird way of sizing someone up."

I shrug and wait for his answer.

Preston exhales slowly and mumbles. "Private jet."

"Ooh la la."

He fixes a glare on me and I giggle again.

Though I wonder if he's so rich, then how come I've never seen him at any of the parties my parents have hosted.

"Let me guess again, your dad got you a jet when you graduated..." I draw my eyebrows together in concentration, tapping my chin. "Hm, you've got your bachelor, haven't you?" I ask, my brain failing to do the maths.

He nods once.

I grin again. "So he bought it as a gift for you when you graduated from college," I announce, watching him from the corner of my eye.

"You truly are annoying."

"So that's a yes?"

He nods again.

"Knew it." I'm almost tempted to pat myself on the back.

I know the people of my society too well.

"How about you?" he inquires, leaning slightly forward, gazing at me.

I wave my hand around dismissively. "Oh, please, these riches are unreachable for a penniless like me." I sigh dramatically and he frowns slightly.

Suddenly his eyes widen and a slow smile spreads across his face. "Let me guess, you mean that in the literal sense, don't you? You literally don't have a penny... but over a hundred grand in your bank."

If his answer hadn't impressed me so much, I would have kept on my act, but damn this guy is on my wavelength or at least knows mine a bit too well.

My surprised expression gives me away and he grins triumphantly, before squinting as he thinks. "High school graduation present?"

I nod, smiling. He smirks, probably pleased with himself.

"Okay, so tell me three things about yourself, they can be anything." I face him, watching his green eyes widen a little with surprise before narrowing as he thinks.

Holding out his hand, Preston raises his index finger. "I was in a band in my high school."

I gasp. "You're a musician?"

He nods, smiling. "Guitar," he answers my unasked question.

Wow. He plays the guitar and he's rich. What the hell was wrong with his girlfriend! He doesn't even look like the abusive controlling type either. Man, if only Drew was like this.

My smile falters a little and I push aside the thought as fast as I can.

"I have a car collection... it's not that big or impressive, but I'm proud of it." A satisfied smile curls his lips, his gaze set on faraway, probably recalling his cars.

I shake my head. Men.

On my side, Preston shifts a little. "Okay, I'm no lightweight but I really can't come up with the third thing... so don't make fun of me, okay?" he quirks an eyebrow, scanning my face.

With a nod, I offer him an encouraging smile.

"I have Globophobia... fear of balloons," he mumbles, his cheeks tinting pink.

I bite my lip, a stupid giggle bubbling inside of me. That's an odd phobia. Hesitantly I ask, "And clowns?"

He glares at me and that's it. I lose it, laughing so hard I have to clutch my stomach with one hand and hold on to the ledge with the other.

"No, just balloons," he mutters.

I wipe away the tears gathered in the corners of my eyes as he scowls at me. "Okay." I hold up my hands. "I'm scared of flowers, if it makes you feel better."

"What? Flowers?"

I nod, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Yeah... like there can be a shit ton of insects inside of them... and they're weak and need constant attention." I shrug.

"Damn, dating you would be so easy, like there's no need to get you any flowers for any occasion." He shakes his head, his gaze set in the distance.

After a long while, Preston turns to me. "Can I ask you something? Of course, you don't need to answer but I was just curious... did you leave your ex... or did he?" by the end, his voice turns so small it's barely audible.

I sigh, gripping the edge as I drop my gaze to the ground stories below us. My hair falls over my shoulders, like a curtain covering my face from his scrutiny.

"I caught him sleeping with another girl in our bedroom," I mumble.

"I'm sorry." He gently squeezes my hand.

"My last exam had just ended... I'd heard from a few of his friends, sometimes talking about this girl... but I- I don't know what I thought."

"You trusted him, that's all," he quietly says. His warm hand stays on top of mine. It's a pleasant feeling. Not uncomfortable or forced.

"Sometimes I feel so stupid for staying in that relationship," I admit aloud. It's been something my therapist and I've been working on. Although I'm nowhere near healed. It's not something I can easily talk about, nor is it something I can change my mind about.

"Hey," he softly calls. Hesitantly he lifts his hand from atop mine. From the corner of my eye, I catch his hand gingerly moving to my hair and tucking it behind my ear, revealing my face. "No one is stupid for trusting someone. That guy was stupid for breaking it."

I shake my head. "It wasn't just that... things were never good between us. The second we stepped out of high school and Dad bought me a flat here so I didn't have to stay in dorms it began. He wasn't a good boyfriend." My voice breaks and I look away, tears burning my eyes.

"Was he..." he doesn't finish his question but I can guess what's on his mind.

So I nod. "Very toxic and abusive," I whisper.

"He didn't deserve your love."

I huff, rolling my eyes. Who needs a stupid girl's love?

"I mean it," he firmly says, straightening on his spot. "If after being an ass to you, you were still able to love him, then losing you is his biggest loss in life. Your love or trust don't show stupidity, they just show how kind you are... and that you have a big heart."

I force a laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "Now is really not the best time for flirting."

"But is it working?" he leans a bit closer to me and when I look up, our eyes lock, his face only a few inches apart from mine.

"A little." I smile.

He grins at me. "Well, mission accomplished." With that he turns and opens two new beers, handing one to me.

We clink our bottles and drink, as a blanket of silence falls over us. We watch over the bustling midnight life streets and alleys.

Long moments pass before an idea pops into my head. "Do you sing?" I turn to him, taking him by surprise.

"Not really... why?"

"Have you tried leaving a voicemail for your ex and dissing her with a song?" I raise my eyebrows, already getting excited.

"No... that's petty."

"Excitement would be the right word, Prez. The girl cheated on you!" I exclaim.

He frowns at my given nickname but doesn't say anything.

"Come on, let's do that, it'll be fun." I throw my legs around on the rooftop and get my feet.

"You're insane."

"We deserve fun and she deserves a sweet little diss song."

He chuckles, shaking his head as he swings his legs around and stands up.

The rest of the night is spent finding a good song, altering the lyrics slightly to match the occasion, practicing, and then leaving the message.

Late into the night, after we've downed our last beers and are barely keeping our eyes open, he calls over an uber for me and sends me off. Not before cautioning the driver over a hundred times to drive slowly and wait until I get inside my apartment.

Surprisingly, this night turned out way better than I had initially expected it would.

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

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