The Wrong Rich Boy Chapter 1

Caleb Astor didn't like me, his fiancée from out of town.

To get me to break off our engagement, he had a scholarship kid from our school pretend to be him.

"A new-money girl and a guy who can barely afford lunch," his friends joked. "It's a perfect match."

"I'll bet you a grand she won't last three days. She'll call the whole thing off for sure."

The scholarship kid was tall and quiet, with a kind of beautiful, broken-down stillness to him.

I actually believed the story—that the Astors had gone bankrupt and he was starving. I could almost hear my dad’s voice in my ear: "Sweetheart, so what if they're broke? We're not snobs who chase money. We've got enough to take care of him."

So, when he was hungry, I brought him food. When he worked his part-time jobs, I played bodyguard. When his mom was hospitalized, I paid the bills.

I took very good care of my dirt-poor fiancé.

Until one day, a handsome, preppy-looking guy snatched the breakfast I had carefully made.

I was about to blow a fuse when he looked at me, a frustrated pout on his face.

"Maya, open your eyes. I'm your fiancé."

* * *

My dad told me I had a fiancé in the city.

To give me a choice in the matter, and to make sure I got into a good college, he enrolled me at Northwood High for my junior year, right in Caleb Astor's class.

I’d heard the Astors were practically royalty in Cedar Creek, old money with deep roots. My dad even made me pack a bunch of nice things to make a good impression.

But when I got off the train, no one from the Astor family was there to pick me up.

I was a little annoyed, but all of that vanished the second I got to school and saw him—thin, dressed in a faded t-shirt that had been washed a hundred times.

A friendly student I’d met on the way to the office had looked at the photo on my phone and offered to show me the way.

"Room 203? You're looking for Caleb Astor? Oh, yeah, I know him. C'mon, I'll show you."

He pointed through the classroom window.

I followed his finger. There, sitting by the window, was a boy with a ramrod-straight back, looking clean but worn. Afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting stripes across his profile. A stray breeze ruffled his hair, revealing a sharp brow bone and a smooth forehead.

I glanced down at the photo, then back at him.

The friendly student’s voice echoed in my head, filled with pity. "You didn't know? The Astor family went bankrupt a couple of years back. Caleb's on financial aid now. He works a bunch of jobs after school. Sometimes, he can't even afford to buy lunch."

Our families hadn't been in close contact, and I guess a proud family like the Astors wouldn't exactly advertise their bankruptcy to my dad out in Austin.

I let out a soft "Oh," and nodded like a bobblehead, promising the student I wouldn't spread it around.

"This is our new transfer student, Maya Lin. Let's give her a warm welcome," the teacher announced, pointing to an empty desk in the back. "You can sit there for now."

I looked up. It was right next to Caleb.

From the moment I walked in until I sat down, he never once looked up. He was completely focused on whatever he was writing.

I had to squeeze behind his chair to get to my seat. As I passed, my backpack snagged on something. I gave it a gentle tug, and an old metal thermos clattered out of his desk. It rolled on the floor with a loud clang, and the lid popped off. Half of a dry-looking sandwich tumbled out, picking up a layer of dust.

I saw his shoulders tense, just for a second. His knuckles went white around his pen, but he didn't turn around.

A few muffled snickers came from nearby. I saw a couple of guys whispering behind his back, their eyes full of scorn.

So, it was true. He was really struggling. The vibrant, confident boy in the old photos was gone, replaced by someone who couldn't even afford a decent meal.

I bit my lip, clutched my backpack, and sat down. "I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I didn't mean to."

He still didn't look at me. He just picked up the dusty sandwich half, put it back in the thermos, and shoved the whole thing back into his desk.

"I'm Maya Lin," I tried again, leaning closer. "Do you remember me?"

When he was six, we met once. Like my mom, I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty face, and little Caleb was adorable. I followed him around everywhere. Of course, that was before I convinced him to help me "catch" a rooster at a petting zoo and he got pecked for his trouble. He didn't speak to me for the rest of the day.

Good to know he grew up just as handsome.

My sudden closeness seemed to startle him. He leaned back slightly, his eyes finally lifting to meet mine. They were beautiful, like polished obsidian. His lashes were so long and dark that when he looked down, they veiled his gaze, making him seem less distant.

But after the initial surprise, he went back to being silent.

I scratched my head. "I'm your fiancée, remember?"

He was taking a sip of water and choked, coughing into his fist. I reflexively patted his back. When he recovered, he gave me a strange look, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

Maybe he didn't remember. Or maybe losing everything had changed him.

Whatever it was, I got the message. We’d just start over.

I smiled and held out my hand. "Well, we're desk partners now. I'm Maya. It's nice to meet you. Hey, could I ask you for a favor?"

I expected him to ignore me again, but this time he spoke, his voice cool and distant.

"I don't have time."