Five-eleven Boyfriend

I wanted the campus queen’s boyfriend. Badly.
Because he was handsome, rich, and a genuinely good guy.
And I was flat broke.
He spent money on her like it was nothing, and I was practically drooling with envy.
But the campus queen? She couldn't get over the fact that he was only five-eleven.
So when I heard they were on the rocks, I knew. This was my chance.

1
Vivian Knight, the undisputed queen of our department, was having it out with her trust-fund boyfriend, Asher Vaughn, right in front of the dorms.
“What do you have besides a fat wallet?” she accused him, her voice dripping with disdain. “You’re not even six feet tall. Are you even a real man?”
It was a direct hit to his pride. His face went pale, then a blotchy green.
He gritted his teeth. “Do you really think I can’t do better than you?”
Vivian’s smirk was pure arrogance. “Asher, you have to admit it. I’m the best you’re ever going to get.”
I slowed my pace, timing my path to brush right past Asher. Suddenly, a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist.
I looked up, my eyes meeting his, his face just inches from mine.
“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked, his voice surprisingly smooth.
“Yes,” I practically shouted, nodding frantically.
Vivian stared for a beat, then burst out laughing. Her eyes raked over my worn-out jeans and faded t-shirt with theatrical scorn. “I know you’re trying to make me jealous, Asher, but are you really this desperate? You can’t just grab the first charity case you see.”
She leaned in close to me, a cruel glint in her eyes. “Well, well, little wallflower,” she whispered. “Playing with the big dogs now, are we?”
She didn't see me as a threat. Not even for a second. In her mind, this was just a desperate, heat-of-the-moment stunt. He would never actually want me as his girlfriend.
And she was right. Any sane person, seeing the two of us side-by-side, would know who to choose.
She was the statuesque, dazzling beauty who had turned heads from the moment she stepped on campus.
And me? I was the mousy, invisible girl who didn’t own a single decent outfit and kept her head down so no one would notice her. My classmates called me the “little wallflower” to my face. In everyone’s eyes, I was pathetic, timid, and so insecure I couldn’t even look people in the eye when I spoke.
In our year’s English department, Vivian and I were polar opposites. She was the supernova; I was the black hole.
And by some cruel twist of fate, we were roommates.
Vivian never bothered to hide her disgust for me. We shared a room, but she’d barely spoken a word to me. It was as if even acknowledging my existence would tarnish her radiant aura.
With her looks, guys were constantly lining up for a chance. After playing the field, she’d finally settled on Asher Vaughn.
You couldn’t blame her. He was just too rich.
When he was pursuing her, he’d showered her with designer gifts without blinking an eye. It was an assault of brand names and luxury she couldn’t resist. After a month of being courted by half the campus, she chose Asher.
And once they were official, the gifts didn’t stop. They got even more extravagant. One day, I overheard my other roommates whispering that the new handbag Vivian had just received was worth over ten thousand dollars.
The shock was a physical blow. Ten thousand dollars for a bag? It was beyond my comprehension. What kind of purse could possibly cost that much? Was it lined with gold?
My entire family’s annual income was less than that.
In that moment, a single, consuming thought took root in my mind.
I wish Asher Vaughn was my boyfriend.

2
Maybe it was the sheer scale of Asher’s wealth that did it, but I started to become curious about him. Vivian mentioned him in the dorm constantly. At first, it was all bragging. Lately, it had been all complaining.
He wasn’t thoughtful enough, she’d whine. He didn't know how to comfort her. He just threw money at every problem.
“Every time I get upset, he just sends me money. He doesn’t even know how to talk to me,” she’d pout. “We’re in a relationship, not a business deal. Does he think money solves everything? He’s so unromantic!”
I used to tune her out. But now, I hung on every word, collecting details about him like a secret treasure. The more I learned, the more an agonizing envy clawed at my insides.
If you don’t want a perfect boyfriend like that, give him to me!
From my secret observations, I knew Asher was more than just rich. He was emotionally stable, always calm and patient in the face of Vivian’s tantrums. He was respectful, too. When Vivian said she wasn’t ready to sleep with him, he accepted it without question, telling her he would never pressure her. They were still at the hand-holding stage.
And while he was a trust-fund kid, he wasn't a degenerate. He didn’t have the typical vices—no clubbing, no fast cars, no gambling. His hobbies were shockingly wholesome: basketball, hiking, surfing, photography. His only bad habit was smoking.
But the most important thing? The way he looked at me. There was no pity, no disgust.
I remember it clearly. During the university sports meet, I was standing outside our class’s designated spectator area. The student advisor shoved a few bottles of water into my hands. “Our relay team just finished. Quick, take these to them.”
I nodded numbly and walked toward the track. But when I held out the water, the runners actively avoided me, no one willing to take a bottle from my hand. A tidal wave of shame washed over me.
Just as I was about to pull my arm back, a hand took one of the bottles.
I looked up. It was Asher, his face dripping with sweat. He twisted the cap off and took a huge gulp.
A guy next to him nudged him with his elbow. “Dude, why’d you take water from her?”
Asher looked confused. “Isn’t she in our class?”
“Yeah, but…”
“So I’m drinking water for our class. What’s the problem?”
The guy lowered his voice. “You’re not grossed out?”
“Grossed out by what?” Asher asked, taking another drink. His expression was one of genuine bewilderment. He truly didn’t understand what the other guy was implying.
In that moment, I knew. Asher Vaughn was a good person.

3
Asher was a rich guy with a good heart. The exact thing I desperately needed. But he had a girlfriend. And more importantly, we were from different universes. He would never choose me.
So I buried my envy, letting it fester in the dark corners of my mind, making me feel even more like a creature of the shadows.
I never thought I’d get my lucky break.
But there he was, asking me to be his girlfriend.
Of course, I said yes. A thousand times yes.
But as soon as the word was out, a look of regret flashed across his face and he let go of my wrist. He was already second-guessing his own impulsive act.
Vivian’s expression was pure, smug satisfaction. “Asher, that was a low blow. I’m not forgiving you for that.” She tossed her hair back. “In fact, we’re done. We’re breaking up.”
A sad smile touched Asher’s lips. “You’ve been waiting to say that for a while, haven’t you?” He nodded slowly. “Fine. As you wish.”
Vivian’s triumphant smirk was the last thing I saw before she turned and walked away. Asher just stood there, frozen, like a statue. After a long moment, he finally seemed to reboot and turned to leave.
I grabbed his arm.
He looked at me, his eyes vacant, like his soul had left his body. He still had the decency to apologize. “I’m sorry about that. I was just kidding back there. Don’t take it seriously.”
But I held on tight. “You said it. You asked me to be your girlfriend. You can’t take it back.”
“I… I’m sorry.”
“Are you still waiting for her to come back?” I decided to play dirty. “She’s been dying for an excuse to break up with you. There’s a guy on the basketball team who’s been chasing her. She can’t stop smiling whenever his name comes up. She’s already moved on.”
“The basketball player?” Asher’s voice was flat. “Is he… tall?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Like, six-three.”
Asher let out a bitter laugh. “I knew it. She hates that I’m not six feet tall.”
“You’re not short!” I blurted out. I’d seen the official class health records. Without shoes, Asher was exactly 5’11”. Just one inch shy of that magic number. But for Vivian, that one inch was an obsession. It was understandable, I guess. At 5’8”, she was a giant among girls. She’d said it more than once: any guy under six feet was defective. It was her absolute minimum requirement.
She only found out Asher’s true height after they started dating, and it became a constant source of complaint. “How could he be just one inch off?” she’d moan in the dorm. That one inch became an insurmountable flaw, a dealbreaker.
When the basketball player started pursuing her, she was giddy. “That height,” she’d sighed dramatically. “It’s just… perfect.” The comparison made her despise Asher even more. She started picking fights constantly, hoping he’d get fed up and dump her first. But Asher, oblivious, just kept sending gifts and money.

4
Seeing Asher’s defeated, blank expression, I knew I had to act fast.
“You’re really not short,” I insisted. I knew plenty of guys who were 5’10” or 5’11” who rounded up to six feet without a second thought. Asher was just too honest.
I used my hand to gesture between us. “I’m 5’4”, which is pretty average, and I have to crane my neck to look at you.” I stood on my tiptoes for emphasis. “To me, you’re really tall!”
My mind raced, scrambling for the right words. It seemed to work. The gloom on his face started to lift.
“Thanks,” he said, a small smile appearing. “That actually helps.” A dimple appeared on his right cheek, surprisingly cute.
“I’m sorry,” he began again. “Before, I just—”
I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I knew this was my one and only shot. If I lost it now, I’d never get another.
So, before he could finish, I let the tears fall.
He panicked, stopping mid-sentence. “Why are you crying? Was I too harsh? I didn’t mean to be.”
I wiped my eyes, my voice catching in my throat. “I know everyone looks down on me. I’m from a poor town in the mountains. My family couldn’t even afford tuition. My clothes are all hand-me-downs. They call me a wallflower and make fun of my accent. When I walk by, they hold their noses, but I swear I shower every day! I don’t smell!” The words tumbled out, a mix of performance and painful truth. “Everyone in the dorm laughs at me. They say I’ll die alone!”
It started as an act to gain his sympathy, but the more I spoke, the more real the tears became. Each one was laced with genuine pain.
“They really say that about you?” Asher’s anger seemed real. “That’s horrible!”
Suddenly our roles were reversed. He was the one desperately trying to comfort me.
“You’re adorable! You have a cute round face and big eyes, like a character from a cartoon. And your voice is lovely—if you just worked on a few pronunciations, you could be a professional broadcaster! Your clothes are just a little old, but they’re always clean! Those people are just bored and cruel. Don’t listen to them.”
“As for finding someone…” he trailed off, unsure what to say.
I let out a loud, theatrical sob. “See? Even you think I’ll never find anyone!”
“No! Of course not!” he said, frantically dabbing at my tears with his sleeve. “Didn’t I just ask you? To be my girlfriend?”
I sniffled. “But you said you didn’t mean it.”
“I meant it!” he said, his eyes firm. “From this moment on, you’re my girlfriend.”
My eyes went wide. “Really?”
“Really.” He paused. “But… I’m not a very good boyfriend.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Vivian told me. I have a lot of flaws. She said she was just putting up with me.”
I looked at him—handsome, rich, kind, and now, thanks to Vivian, completely lacking in confidence.
“In my eyes,” I said, enunciating every word, “you are an amazing person.”
“Me? Amazing?” he asked, his voice full of doubt.
“Yes, Asher,” I confessed. “I’ve admired you for a very long time.”

5
That night, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, a gnawing guilt eating away at me. I had tricked him into this relationship. I had played on his kindness, used his pity.
It wasn't a pretty truth, but it was the truth.
I had been manipulative. I had been calculating. But I needed this boyfriend. I needed his money.
I was born into a poor, rural family where boys were prized and girls were burdens. From a young age, I knew my parents’ love was reserved for my younger brother. The family’s money was for him. For me, there was only work. If I slacked, I was beaten.
I studied with a desperate, all-consuming focus. It was my only escape. After middle school, my parents wanted to send me to a factory to work. But I got the highest score in my entire school, earning me a full scholarship to the best high school in the city, plus a cash award. For the sake of that award money, they let me go.
They took the money, of course. They gave me twenty dollars a month for living expenses. For three years of high school, I was never not hungry. I even fainted from hunger in class once. My homeroom teacher was a kind woman who often invited me to her house for meals.
After graduation, I scored high enough to get into my dream university. But there was no money for tuition. My parents told me that if I went to college, they wouldn’t give me a single cent.
I worked all summer, but it wasn't enough. A week before school started, I swallowed my pride and went to my aunt. She was the only relative who had ever shown me kindness, but she was poor, too, with two kids of her own. She secretly gave me two hundred dollars she had saved.
I scraped and borrowed, but I was still short. I went back to my kind homeroom teacher and forced myself to ask. She gave me a hundred dollars. The next day, I found out from a classmate that her own father was in the hospital with cancer, and the medical bills were so high she and her husband were fighting about divorce.
That night, I cried until I had no tears left. I wrestled with my conscience, but in the end, I kept the money. I wanted to go to school too much.
And in that moment, I understood who I was. I was a selfish, cold-hearted person who put my own interests first.

6
After paying for tuition, travel, and basic food, I had thirty dollars left to my name. I treated every penny like it was my last. On the first day of school, I found a black pen on the ground. It was still half full of ink. I was ecstatic. I had just saved twenty-five cents. I still use that pen. When it runs out, I only buy refills. The barrel is now faded and cracked.
To save money on haircuts, I let my hair grow to my waist.
I had to earn money not just for food, but for the next year’s tuition. Every moment I wasn't in class, I was working. Sometimes I washed dishes at a restaurant across the street until two in the morning. When the dorms were locked, I’d crash on a cot in the employee break room and get up at dawn to head back for class.
I was in a constant state of exhaustion. In class, I was always dizzy and drowsy, unable to focus. My grades started to slip. I was an English major, and coming from a small town, my speaking and listening skills were already a disaster. I was a so-called “mute English” speaker. I was already miles behind the students from big cities, and now with my lack of sleep, the gap was widening.
At the end of my freshman year, I barely passed one of my finals. I’m sure the professor took pity on me. I knew if things continued this way, failing was inevitable. I had fought so hard to get here. I knew my only job was to study. But if I didn't work, I wouldn't eat. It was a vicious cycle.
Many times, when my back ached so much I couldn’t stand up straight, I wished I could just pass out and never wake up. Being alive was just too hard.

7
The next morning, I saw the six-foot-three basketball player waiting outside the dorm. Vivian bounced up to him, linked her arm in his, and they walked away together. They were official.
I breathed a sigh of relief. At least now she wouldn’t be coming back for Asher.
After my last class, I saw Asher waiting outside the lecture hall. I ran up to him, a surprised smile on my face. “How did you know I was here?” Then I remembered. Vivian and I were in the same program. Of course he had our class schedule. He used to wait here for her.
Just then, Vivian and her new boyfriend walked past. When she saw Asher take my backpack from me, she shot me a look of pure venom. It was bizarre. She had a new boyfriend. Did she expect Asher to remain her property, too?
Asher took me to the nicest cafeteria on campus. He ordered three main dishes and a soup. It was the most satisfying meal I’d had in years. Asher barely ate, just watched me, his chin resting on his hand.
“Aren’t you going to eat? Why are you staring at me?” I asked, feeling a little self-conscious.
“I haven’t seen someone enjoy their food this much in a long time,” he laughed. “It’s a pleasure to watch.”
“You’d better eat before it’s all gone,” I warned him.
He finally picked up his fork. “I wasn’t hungry, but watching you made me hungry. Don’t worry, if you finish it all, I’ll just order more.”
I ate until I was full, a deep, comforting happiness settling in my stomach.
“Thank you, Asher,” I said, sitting up straight.
“For what?”
“For the amazing meal.”
He patted my head. “You’re too easy to please.” He pulled a brand-new smartphone out of his bag and handed it to me.
“What’s this?” I hesitated.
“It’s my backup phone. Never used it, it’s basically new.” He paused. “If you don’t want a hand-me-down, I can buy you a new one.”
I shook my head vigorously. “No, this is perfect!” My current phone was an ancient burner phone, a hand-me-down from my uncle that was so beat up even the recycling kiosks wouldn’t take it. It could only make calls, and the battery lasted half a day. I never took it out in public. The shame was too much.
A pale, elegant hand reached across the table. “Give me your old phone,” Asher said.
I froze. As thick-skinned as I was, that phone was a source of deep shame.
“I’ll transfer the SIM card for you.”
His voice was so gentle it disarmed me. I slowly pulled out the battered device. He took it without a flicker of judgment in his eyes. His nimble fingers quickly popped out the SIM card and installed it in the new phone.
He placed the new phone in my hand and pointed to the old one. “Do you still want this? I can put it back together for you.”
I nodded. “Yes, please.”
As he watched me clumsily navigate the new smartphone, he started patiently teaching me how to use it. I was probably the only university student who had never owned one.
“You’re a fast learner,” he praised me. “I only have to show you once.”

8
That afternoon, Asher took me shopping. First, we went to a high-end salon. The stylist asked me how short I wanted my hair. “To my shoulders,” I said.
My long hair had been a nuisance for years. It took forever to brush and used up so much shampoo. I’d kept it long simply because I couldn’t afford a haircut. An hour later, I walked out with a sleek, shoulder-length bob, my head feeling wonderfully light.
Next, Asher took me to the mall. He bought me five complete outfits, three pairs of shoes, and a whole set of skincare and makeup. Staring at my reflection, I barely recognized myself.
Asher stood beside me and gently poked my cheek. “What are you staring at?”
“Is that… me?”
“What, stunned by your own beauty?” he laughed. “I told you, you’re gorgeous. You just need to believe it.”
Then we stood outside a designer handbag store. My heart started to pound. This was it. The ten-thousand-dollar bag Vivian had received had haunted me for months. That much money could pay for all four years of my tuition. If I was frugal, maybe even my master’s degree.
My entire plan, my reason for being with Asher, hinged on one simple, sincere hope: that he would buy me a bag. It didn’t have to be the most expensive one. I would never even use it. I’d sell it, brand new, and get enough money to finally stop working those soul-crushing jobs. I could finally focus on my studies.
With a mix of terror and excitement, I watched as Asher gestured to a wall of purses. His voice was music to my ears. “Pick one.”
“Any one?” I asked, testing the waters.
“Any one.”
I could have screamed with joy. The cheapest bag was over two thousand dollars; the most expensive was in the five figures. I deliberated for a moment and chose one that was around five thousand. I felt like a monster, but the desire for a stable life won out. I pointed.
Asher didn't even look at the price tag. “We’ll take it.”
In that moment, he was the most handsome man in the world.

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