He Asked Me Out to Get Back at Her, I Gave Him a Rulebook Instead Chapter 10

He Asked Me Out to Get Back at Her, I Gave Him a Rulebook Instead Chapter 10

I didn’t see Ronan for a long titne after that.

But the stream of floating comments told me he still read through our old messages. Every day.

Once I was sure he wasn’t going to trash me online, I let myself breathe.

My family would have had a stroke if something like that went public.

Maybe that was the problem. Eighteen years of playing the perfect daughter had built something sharp and

restless underneath.

Ronan was the flip side. Same strict family, opposite reaction: he’d been fighting back since he was a kid.

I caught myself thinking about him and stopped.

Get greedy, lose everything. That was the rule.

I couldn’t keep taking his attention, his money, his time without ever giving anything back. That wasn’t a

strategy anymore. That was cruelty.

A text from Mom. [You’re in college now, good time to start dating! A friend of mine has a son at your school. He seems nice.]

Then Dad. [It’s never too early to think about the future. Your mom and I just want to see you settled and happy.]

I stared at the family group chat.

[I’m a freshman, you guys. Relax.]

The real issue was the photo they sent. The guy was a hard

pass.

Surrounded by the Briarwood gene pool, the comparison was bru

brutal.

But my parents had set it up, so I said yes to one coffee.

I figured I’d turn him down in person and that would be the end of it.

He didn’t take the hint. Not even a little.

Five minutes in, he was already talking about how many kids we’d have and whether I’d move in with him before the wedding.

I sat there, jaw tight, his voice scraping against every nerve I had.

“You seem like a pretty chill girl. Our parents get along, so this should be easy.”

“We can take things slow while we’re living together. Nothing happens until you’re ready. Your parents are already on board.”

A chair scraped the floor behind me.

Ronan dropped into the chair next to me like he belonged there.

“She said no. Were you not listening?”

He leaned back, half-laughing. “Funny. I had to memorize a hundred rules and this guy gets to skip straight to moving in.”

My date looked between us, confused. “What rules?”

Ronan blinked. He had no answer for that.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said. “The rules don’t apply to him.”

“Not that I’d ever date someone like him, either.”

Ronan’s shoulders dropped an inch. Then he turned to my date and took him apart, his clothes, his hair, his audacity, until the guy excused himself and left.

I stared at my phone. The family group chat was about to become a war zone.

But for the first time in a while, I felt lighter.

I stood up to leave. Ronan followed. “I’m sorry.”

“The bet was my fault.”

I waited for the rest.

But he just looked at the ground, almost nervous. “I didn’t say yes to the engagement.”

I already knew all of this. The stream of floating comments kept me in the loop. What I didn’t expect was what he did next.

That night, he posted publicly. Told everyone I’d broken up with him because of the bet.

He kept every private message between us sealed. Just like the rules said.

As far as anyone knew, I was the one who’d been wronged.

Vivienne moved out of the dorm.

Before she left, she apologized.

She’d told Ronan about the $75K. “I think I might be a terrible person too,” she said.

I nodded. I didn’t tell her it was okay.

Apologizing didn’t mean I owed her forgiveness.

The stream of floating comments said I’d driven her away from the story.

Three months passed with no contact between Ronan and Vivienne. Then the stream of floating comments

vanished.

Ronan kept showing up after that.

I let him take me to dinner every time. No drama, no games.

He was different. Quieter. He listened now, actually listened, instead of waiting for his turn to talk.

When I didn’t push him away, he started coming around more. Careful, though. Like the rules were still

running in the back of his head.

I knew what he was doing. I didn’t say yes.

It wasn’t about the bet. It wasn’t about Vivienne.

It was something I’d finally figured out about myself.

I’d spent eighteen years being the daughter everyone wanted me to be.

I’d barely spent any of that time being me.

Senior year, when my parents started mapping out my future again, the boyfriend, the timeline, the plan, I took the money I’d saved and applied to study abroad.

Ronan had become a better man. That part was real.

But I wasn’t done becoming who I was yet.

So this time, I chose myself.