Olivia

How could he get in the way of my dreams?

I sniff, then wipe my nose with the sleeves of my hoodie, his hoodie. Ronan Gallagher, the Irish boy who stole my heart from the first day he walked into class and somehow became my boyfriend.

There are so many things I cannot wrap my mind around, and Ronan asking me to be his girlfriend tops the list.

I never questioned his loyalty to me as my boyfriend. I never had to second guess his love for me. But today, I’m second-guessing his respect for me.

I stop by the gate of his family estate, and it slides open for me to go in.

I know where to find him on a Saturday morning, so I walk into the large building and head straight for him.

I say hello to the employees. I pass them to go up the short flight of stairs to the foyer—the one that leads straight to the in-house gym, where Ronan will be.

I push the two-way door of the gym and go in to find him lifting weights. I wait patiently until he finishes his reps and sits up from the padded bench.

“Babe,” his husky voice looms first before his height as he stands. “What happened?” He easily, like always, picks up on my mood and comes to me, but I step away from him before he charms me to cave and not say the things I need to say.

“Why did you do it?” I hiccup.

“Do what?” he shrugs, clueless because maybe he thought I would never find out.

“Why did you pay for my full scholarship, Ronan?” I am furious, and as he realizes the reason for my fury, he exhales, “I thought I could trust you. I trusted you, and now I feel humiliated.”

He might think he has done me a favor, but he only showed me how incompetent he thinks I am.

He shouldn’t have gone behind my back. It has always been my dream to be a pastry chef, and I was going to figure that out somehow. And yet, not only did he pay for it, but he also lied about it for a whole semester until I found out today.

He didn’t give me the option to choose. He never asked for my permission.

“Babe, chill,” he chuckles, “No need to overreact, my girl needed a little help, and I…”

“Fuck you, Ronan,” I stab my index finger at him, “Fuck you, and whatever this is, it was fun while it lasted. We are done.” I don’t want to hear him explain anything and make my pitiful status more obvious.

He scoffs, “You can’t be serious.”

“Of course, the poor Olivia would never say no to her rich boyfriend because how then would she ever have a future,” I shove him hard against the chest. “Go to hell and take your money with you,” I turn, my heart breaking, and stomp out.

But in truth, I want him to come after me.

He doesn’t.

Ronan

What do girls want?

I hit the punching bag so hard I almost crack my knuckles. But I don’t stop. I punch and keep punching, taking my frustration out on it.

I did what was right for her. Why does she want to break up with me? Isn’t she supposed to be happy that I helped her?

I have the money to, so why can’t I help her? I know it will take the stress off her so she can focus on learning instead of how to raise the money for it.

She had always wanted to be a pastry chef; it’s all she talks about. So, when she talked about the scholarship program, I knew it was my shot to step in and help her.

I may disagree with my mother on many things, but not when she said a man will take care of what he loves.

I love her, and I took care of her.

Case closed.

***

Me: Why can’t you just be happy to get what you want? You know I did it for you, right?

I hit send, pull my hoodie over my head, and as I’m about to kick off running under the rain, my phone beeps. I quickly look down at it to see that Olivia has texted me back.

Babe: Because I didn’t get what I wanted.

What now?

I shoot another text so quickly that my fingers stumble.

Me: What do you want?

I hold my phone, waiting to see her reply to that question. Whatever she wants, if I can, I will give her. I don’t care if I have to turn the earth upside down to make it happen.

Babe: Fuck you!

Fuck me?

Ok, so even if I was wrong, it’s been a week already, and I cannot believe she is serious about the breakup.

I inhale, then exhale. She will come around. I’ll give her some time.

I hit the road.

***

“Ronan,” Olivia’s mom, identical to her daughter but more mature looking, smiles at me. She has always made me feel welcome, and I appreciate her. She looks like she has just gotten back from her nine-to-five.

“I, huh…” I clear my throat because I’m finally doing this as much as I had said I would not be doing it.

I wanted Olivia to come around herself, but it’s been another week, and she hasn’t sent me any more texts.

She usually cannot stay a day without talking to me.

“Do you want to come in?” Olivia’s mom holds the door out for me, and I shake my head, dropping my eyes to my sneakers on the creaky patio, the one we used to sit on most nights pretending to be studying and kissing in secret, because we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves.

“Is Olivia inside? I need to talk to her, please,” I ask. Her face drops before a sorry smile comes up next.

“She left a day ago for Paris,” she squints. “She didn’t tell you?”

I shake my head. “We had a disagreement.”

“Oh, it’s like that sometimes,” she offers. “I can let her know you want to talk or let her granny know.” She shrugs, and I know why Olivia will call her abuela and not her. Her parents do not approve of her dream.

“No. It’s fine,” I step down from the porch. “Thank you.”

“Take care,” she waves at me.

I could take her offer and try to contact Olivia, although I know I have lost my chance. But why should I?

She left. After everything is said and done, she left without telling me.

So, fuck it.

Like my mom always says: I have my whole life ahead of me. I should focus on that.

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