I winced. He’d hardly shared anything about himself, his past, or his family. Even though I wanted to know more, Oliver gave off a “ask me personal questions, and I might bolt” vibe.

“He sounds like a dick,” I said.

Oliver snorted. “You have no idea. I couldn’t wait to get out of that house. Moved to Colorado as soon as I graduated and never looked back.”

That caught my attention. “You went to school out here?”

“Nope. Moved out here with my friend Harrison. We shared a shitty apartment and both got minimum wage jobs.”

My mouth went slack at the admittance as I forced myself to take steadying breaths. Talking while trudging through the snow was proving a good distraction, but I was still basically panting. “You didn’t go to college?” I asked.

Oliver turned to see my shocked expression. Instead of being offended, a laugh escaped him as he rolled his eyes. “What? You’re seriously surprised that I didn’t go to college? Do I seem like the type?”

“I don’t know,” I said, scrambling to keep up with him. It was like these snowshoes were a second skin for him.

“You thought, I—who’s never had a stable job in my life, who comes out to teach snowboarding lessons on a whim, who hated school and has called your corporate career soul sucking—went to college?” He raised his eyebrows.

“There are lots of reasons to go to college.” My tone had taken on a defensive edge.

“Yeah. To get into debt and get scammed out of a whole lot of money.”

“Or to meet lifelong friends, get an education, study abroad, kickstart your career.”

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,” he said 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—”