Chapter 3Broke, Busted, and Billionaire-Bound?

This led to us still eating together in the dining hall for two weeks after breaking up.

My roommate was puzzled. "Is your breakup really this amicable?"

I replied: "You just don't understand the struggle of the truly broke."

On the very last day of the month, after draining the last penny from the dining hall card, I suddenly remembered the box of condoms we’d bought.

Ryan's nose was red, and his ears were flushed. "Should we... use them all up?"

I checked. There were eight left.

My face felt hot. "I don't think we should..."

Ryan, for the first time since the breakup, stood his ground, grabbing my hand. "I can handle it."

But he was young and naive.

Three hours in the cheap motel room wasn't nearly enough.

We had to book the room for the entire night, an extra two hundred dollars.

I got angrier the more I thought about the wasted money.

I adamantly refused to let Ryan sleep, insisting we had to "work" until we got that two hundred dollars' worth back.

That is, until...

I collapsed with shaky legs during gym class. I instantly regretted my frugality.

I shouldn't have been so cheap as to use up all eight in one insane night.

My back and legs were sore for three days; I could barely jog.

Catching sight of Ryan’s dark eyes across the field, a memory flashed through my mind: that night, the fierce possessiveness in his eyes as he leaned over and gripped my ankle.

His sharp abs, his defined collarbone, and his burning breath.

The day was too hot; it made my mouth dry.

I shook my head frantically, trying to dispel those lingering, sensual thoughts.

An ex-boyfriend? I didn't have time for nostalgia.

The hustle was the priority.

My "paralyzed" dad, my "frail" mom, and my grandmother with "osteoporosis" were all counting on me.

I couldn’t afford to add to my burden. It would crush me.