Page 24 of How to Train Your Billionaire

I pause, shielding my eyes from the sun. “Do you like her art?”

Olivia shrugs, still glued to her phone. “I mean, it’s fine. Not really my thing, but she’s my friend, so I have to go, right?”

“Right,” I murmur, feeling a flicker of discomfort. “So, what is your thing?”

She looks up, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Like, what are you passionate about? What gets you excited?”

The question slips out before I can stop it. But it’s been on my mind more lately—this need to understand what drives the people around me.

Maybe it’s because I’ve seen what it looks like when someone goes all in on something—

Frankie comes to mind, uninvited. Again.

Maybe we should’ve had this conversation earlier, but everything between Olivia and me has always been surface level. Until now, I hadn’t noticed how thin that surface really was.

She tilts her head, as though the question itself is strange. “Well, I guess I like ... nice dinners? Traveling. Fashion, obviously.” She gestures to her dress with a self-satisfied smile. “And, you know, just enjoying life. Why stress about deep stuff when you can have fun?”

Her words land like a dull thud, but I mask my disappointment with a smile. Most of my past relationships were built on banter, convenience, and knowing when to leave well enough alone. This—whatever this is—feels different. And I’m not sure what to do with that.

“Fair enough. Do you ever want to do something bigger? Like—” I hesitate, realizing how earnest I sound. “Like make an impact somehow?”

“People are too serious about everything these days. Like, oh, let’s save the turtles or whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Not that I’m against turtles, obviously, but does it really matter in the long run? We’re all just specks in the universe.”

I frown, caught off guard. “Got it.”

She laughs, light and carefree, like I’d just told a joke. “Hayes, not everyone’s wired like you. I’m just here to enjoy life while it lasts. No offense, but worrying about everything sounds exhausting.”

Her words hit me like a rogue wave, cold and unexpected. I never suggested she worry about everything—only that she maybe look up from her phone once in a while—care less about taking selfies and more about being there for other people.

For the first time since we started seeing each other, I’m not sure if I like what I see beneath her polished surface.

I shove my hands in my pockets, staring out at the horizon. “I guess we see things differently.”

She shrugs, oblivious to the shift in my mood. “Guess so. But hey, that’s what makes life interesting, right?”

I don’t answer. For now, I need to do what I do best—put on a mask of indifference and deal with it internally.

I’ll probably give myself an ulcer by thirty, but whatever.

Chapter Eleven

Stand Up for Yourself

Frankie

Hayes seems even grumpier than usual. I wonder if something’s wrong between him and Malibu Barbie. The Grumpillonaire and the Barbie ... it sounds like the title to a cheesy romance novel. I decide not to dwell on their drama. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Malachi’s nice at least. He told me a story on the walk over about his last trip to Hawaii—it was right before he graduated from high school—and he got stung by a jellyfish in a very unfortunate spot on his body. His mother insisted on helping him, which was awkward, to put it mildly.

After we place our lunch orders at the counter, Malachi and I find a picnic table to sit down at to wait while Hayes and Olivia are still in line.

“What’s their deal?” I ask, tipping my chin toward them.

Malachi shakes his head. “That?” He glances to where they’re standing. “That is a result of bad parenting—probably on both sides—and little to no self-awareness. Neither of them is fit to date, especially not each other.”

His assessment is interesting, to say the least.