For five years, I was just his hookup.
From eighteen to twenty–three, my childhood friend Blake had me in his bed regularly. We burned through so many condoms we could’ve circled our campus three times. But call me his girlfriend? Hell no.
And why? This guy had th
most insane checklist for a girlfriend ever.
Exactly 5’6“. 106 pounds. Golden curly hair. Pale skin. Tiny teardrop mark by her eye. Dimples when she smiles… This crazy list had thirty–seven must–haves. Not preferences–requirements.
He told me, “If I don’t find this dream girl by twenty–three, then you’re it.”
I rolled my eyes. No way this perfect woman existed, right? So I said yes to his deal.
I waited. And waited. And waited some more.
Then his twenty–third birthday hit. That morning, he blasted our group chat: “Dinner tonight, 7pm at The Nightshade. Finally introducing my girlfriend to everyone.”
My phone blew up with messages:
“OMG Liv! After five years he’s finally making it official!”
“Girl, you stuck it out and won!”
I spent forever on my makeup, squeezed into his favorite white dress, and got there early.
When the door opened, my heart stopped. Blake walked in with his arm around some girl.
She was exactly 5’6“. Golden curly hair. Pale skin. Teardrop mark by her eye… The damn checklist in human form.
He looked at her like she hung the moon and said:
“Guys, meet my girlfriend.”
The room went dead silent. Everyone stared at me like I was about to explode.
My fingers were white knuckling my glass. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t swallow.
Finally, someone spoke up.
“Blake, you can’t be serious right now.”
Blake leaned back, casual as hell, and kissed the top of the blonde’s head. “Dead serious. Those thirty–seven requirements weren’t just for show. I’m only marrying Sophia. End of story.”
“What about Liv?” Someone blurted out. “She’s been with you since she was eighteen, man……..”
to Curaath
Blake glanced at me with eyes so cold I nearly shivered. “I never asked her to wait for me.”
“My checklist wasn’t a secret. She doesn’t tick the boxes. How’s that my problem?”
His words hit me like a truck. I thought I might throw up.
But everyone was watching, waiting for the meltdown.
So I lifted my glass with trembling fingers.
“You’re right. You never promised me anything. My bad,” I forced a smile. “Congrats on getting your dream girl, Blake.”
He raised an eyebrow and lifted his glass. “Thanks.”
Taking a sip, he added, “Plenty of fish in the sea, Liv. Stop hanging around my tree. Try someone new.”
I closed my eyes, feeling my heart being ripped to shreds.
I met Blake when I was five. He played piano in a little suit, looking like a prince.
I followed him everywhere after that.
We grew up together. On graduation night at eighteen, we got wasted and slept together.
I woke up thinking we’d finally happen. Instead, he handed me a piece of paper.
“My dream girl checklist,” he said.
Thirty–seven freaking requirements. Height, weight, curly blonde hair, skin tone… even that stupid teardrop mark and dimples.
“Last night was a mistake,” he said, lighting up. “Here’s the deal, Liv.”
I clutched the sheets, feeling my heart freeze over.
“Option one: we forget it happened.” He blew smoke rings. “Option two: we keep hooking up. If I don’t find my perfect girl by twenty–three, we’ll make it official.”
Those thirty–seven requirements felt like knives in my chest.
I didn’t match a single one.
“I’ll take option two,” I said.
Because what were the odds he’d find this unicorn of a girl? And because I loved him so much that even terrible odds seemed worth it.
For five years, we hooked up everywhere. Classrooms. Rooftops. Changing rooms.
Everyone knew what was up, but he never claimed me.
6-11 oro for the Paka Dvino Billionaire… Revenge is Sweet!
25.2
Just yesterday he’d gripped my waist and said: “Damn, Liv, you feel amazing.”
And now he was telling me to “try someone new.”
Just so I wouldn’t make a scene.
My chest felt crushed. I downed my drink in one go, burning my throat.
“Don’t worry. I won’t cause drama,” I barely whispered. “I know when to exit.”
As I turned to leave, I saw Blake feeding Sophia a sip of milk.
When it dripped on her lip, he kissed it away. “Silly girl,” he murmured.
That sight gutted me. I stumbled out, only to run into some drunk guys in the hall.
“Hey sexy, gimme your number.” One grabbed my waist, reeking of booze.
Someone yelled from inside: “Blake! Liv’s in trouble out here!”
Through the crack in the door, Blake didn’t even look up. “I have a girlfriend now. Liv’s not my problem.”
He pinched Sophia’s cheek. “Would you be mad if I helped another girl, babe?”
“Of course!” she pouted.
Blake smiled like she hung the moon. “Then I won’t.”
“After all these years, you really never liked Liv?” someone pushed.
Blake laughed, his words cutting deep: “She doesn’t match a single thing on my list. How could I?”
That was it. My dignity shattered.
I shoved past the drunks and stumbled outside.
The cold wind hit me, and I finally broke down crying.
I didn’t Uber. I walked for two hours in the freezing cold.
Back home, I stared at my reflection-
Makeup smeared. Dress a mess. Eyes puffy as hell.
This wasn’t me. And it shouldn’t be.
I peeled off that stupid white dress and trashed it, just like Blake had trashed our five years.
Then I grabbed my phone and made the call.
“Mr. Reynolds? I’m in. I’m taking the London Symphony Orchestra offer.”
Dumnod the Ice Cold CEO for the Fake–Dying Billionaire… Revenge is Sweet!
