Oliver chuckled in a condescending way that instantly made my skin flare. “How many lifelong friends did you make in college?” he asked.
My mouth snapped shut as if he’d hurled an accusation at me. “I keep in touch with a few people.”
He turned around and snapped his fingers. “Oh, and tell me about your study abroad. I’d love to hear about it.”
The frustration I felt was intense—Oliver barely knew me, yet he had me so perfectly figured out that he knew I hadn’t studied abroad.
“Well,” I continued, ignoring the comment, “even you can’t deny that it’s a good place to get an education.”
“There are other ways to get an education, Frankie,” hesaid in a low voice, dipping his chin to meet my gaze. Everything inside me went liquid. “What I’m hearing,” Oliver carried on, “is that your complex with what society thinks of as success is deep rooted.”
He had me there, but I still felt the need to argue. “Having goals does not mean I have a complex,” I said.
“I beg to differ. Why are you so obsessed with finding a job?” he countered.
“I am not obsessed,” I spat out.
“Fine. Fixated, then.”
The snow crunched beneath my feet as I did my best not to fall too far behind and maintain my composure. “It’s hard. There aren’t a lot of options out there right now?—”
“No, butwhy?” Oliver pressed. “Why do you have this deeply ingrained drive to find the next thing? The thing that will help you reach some fictitious goal that doesn’t mean anything. You practically broke down when I first met you, calling yourself a failure.Why?”
Glaring up at him, I did my best to make myself look bigger than I felt. “I’m supposed to helpyouwithyourgoals, not be challenged for mine.”
“Frankie,” Oliver said gently. “I was never going to let you give me goals. Especially when you can’t produce one good reason for having them yourself. In fact,” he gestured to me, “it seems to me like all your goals have brought you is disappointment and misery.”
That stopped me right in my tracks. The words were beyond harsh but they held a grain of truth. In fact, in the small moments where I’d let my mind wander these past few weeks, I had been briefly met with the same realizations. I’d worked so hard for that company, and for what? For them to drop me like I was nothing?
“Hey.”
I didn’t look up but Oliver now hovered in front of me. Heat brewed beneath my eyes, and I refused to let a tear spill right now.
“Hey,” he said again, even softer. “I’m sorry.” He captured my chin in his thumb and forefinger, and I let him tilt my head up to meet his gaze. “That was too harsh. Fuck.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why I said that.”
“Because it’s true,” I whispered. “I am miserable.”
“No, you’re not.”
“But I am,” I huffed out. “I spent years climbing and trying and only focusing on one thing. Even when they asked too much of me and I knew it, I did it without question. I figured if I worked hard enough that I’d be rewarded.”
“And then they screwed you over,” he said gently.
“Exactly.”
Oliver sighed. “They’re bastards. Greedy bastards. They don’t see anyone as human beings, they only care about their bottom line and that’s despicable,” he said matter-of-factly. “You can’t think of yourself as a failure because of this. It says nothing about who you are.”
“I made that my entire personality. I let it define me. And now it’s gone, and I’m worthless.” I hung my head in defeat.
“No,” Oliver said, more forceful than I’d ever heard him. My lip quivered at his proximity. “You. Are. Not. Worthless.” He enunciated each word, his eyes darkening.
Something heavy bobbed in my throat, and I swallowed it down. While I still didn’t believe him wholeheartedly, his determination had my head spinning.
When I opened my mouth to respond, Oliver stuck a finger in my face. “Don’t you dare try to argue with me.” The tendon in his neck pulsed ever so slightly. Intense Oliver was slightly intimidating.
I kind of liked it.
THIRTEEN
