Chapter 2Broke, Busted, and Billionaire-Bound?

"Ryan, it's my birthday today."

"And you brought me to eat this half-price special we had to share."

I could forgive that it didn't include the famous cheesy fries advertised on the poster.

But even the food that did arrive had to be split down the middle with the other couple we’d bundled the deal with.

Four meatballs on the plate? We got two.

One bowl of pasta? We split it.

I was forced to use one of those embarrassing tiny "kids' cups."

Ryan reached out his long fingers and delicately wiped my chin with a handkerchief he always kept in his pocket.

"Fiona, for my birthday, you bought me a latte. It was one of those BOGO deals."

He completely dropped his usual subservient, ‘yes, darling’ attitude.

He was keeping score.

Well, damn.

He didn't love me; he loved the imaginary Fitzgerald heiress.

In that case, I wasn't holding back either.

I held up both hands, wiggling all ten fingers.

"You have, like, twelve 'babes' in your contact list. I don't have enough fingers to count them."

Ryan looked horrified. "You know perfectly well those are the actual babies I babysit at the after-school center!"

I covered my ears, refusing to listen.

He got defensive and started listing my 'Ten Sins.'

"Fiona, you made me eat cilantro-flavored instant noodles for ten days straight, just so you could get a free ramen bowl."

"I hate cilantro."

I felt a little guilty, but not much.

"So what? You didn't have to use the seasoning packet!"

Ryan’s eyes were bloodshot. "Last year, you bought me a parka."

"You insisted I wear it when it was cold, then take it off for you when you got cold."

"The problem is, you wore just a sweater in the dead of winter and started complaining the second we left the classroom. I had to stand there freezing my butt off!"

That was only because I could only afford one parka.

And I bought it for you without hesitation!

I got fired up, too.

"Every time we got those cheap lemonade drinks from 'Icy Brew,' you'd take huge gulps and swallow all the lemon seeds."

"You licked the yogurt lids clean, and you used the empty hot sauce packets to dip your bread!"

...

After going through all our old complaints, I had a sudden epiphany.

It was all poverty's fault.

When we thought the other was a secret rich kid, these moments were cute quirks.

But if we were both genuinely poor, it was terrifying.

His unconditional devotion came with an invisible no financial conditions clause.

Even if he gave me the world, we'd have no place to live after graduation!

I blurted out, "We're done! Break up!"

Ryan was stunned. "You're dumping me just because I'm broke?"

No, it's because we're both broke.

But I didn't explain. I just repeated: "We're breaking up."

We immediately divided our hustles right there.

The errand running and shopping gigs went to him.

The class covering and homework writing jobs went to me.

Since the campus market was huge, we even signed a "Post-Breakup Professional Cooperation Treaty."

We promised not to sabotage each other's business out of spite and to share good money-making opportunities.

As for streaming subscriptions, we agreed to alternate days until the end of the month.

Same for our shared dining hall card.