Chapter 102

Finally, she was mine.

Not just her body, but her heart, too. Her adoration for me sparkled in her eyes. As faint as it seemed, I knew it was inextinguishable.

My chest swelled with satisfaction.

This level of emotion was rare for me. In fact, I always considered myself unnatural because I was always emotionally indifferent and uninterested. Every one of my childhood tutors expected me to kill myself or the people around me. They were certain that I was some kind of sociopath. A freak.

But they were wrong. I had no interest in destroying society.

Who cares about the grass under my feet or the buildings lining the roads?

To me, the world was like an amusement park where I could do anything I wanted. Going to Harvard was as, easy as climbing on a merry-go-round. The world was nothing more than a wh*re with her legs wide open for me.

How could anyone expect me to respect a b*tch like that?

But Olive was different.

Our encounter was just nothing more than an accident, but that led to her becoming my little secret.

She’d stolen my heart.

When did I get so interested?

Maybe it was when we met…

No, it wasn’t love at first sight. I just couldn’t help myself. Olive was a beautiful woman with high cheekbones and fiery red hair, but she wasn’t the only beauty I’d ever seen. I’ve met many others-cute, s*xy, blonde, toxic-and I could have any I wanted. For the longest time, I always slept next to a different woman, and when I woke up, I realized I was lying next to a stranger.

But Olive… I was obsessed with her long before I slept with her. Long before I even talked to her.

With those emerald green eyes, she reminded me of my precious Mrs. Dalloway.

Mrs. Dalloway was a snow-white cat I’d met at my grandfather’s grave in the cemetery. I tried to pet her pearly fur, but she slipped away, jumped up a tree, and looked down at me lazily.

She rejected me.

Every day for the next week, I brought food to visit her at my grandfather’s tombstone. Around that time, I finished the book “Mrs. Dalloway,” which I named her after. The white cat reminded me of the lady in Woolf’s novel, a collection of stories shrouded in mystery.

That entire time, she ate my food, yet refused my touch.

And I insisted on visiting her every day for the next month.

Those green eyes still looked warily at me. It was like she 1841 could see through to my decaying soul beneath my surface.

I finally realized that there were many things in this world that even I couldn’t have.

Like Mrs. Dalloway.

Like Olive Woods.

I made that realization during a c*cktail party. Jake and I had gotten bored of the subpar champagne, and at that point, we were chatting about the women on the dance floor. In this place of hypocrisy and lies, the only tangible things were the breasts and thighs of a woman.

“I bet your type is the chick in the green dress. D*mn, her t*ts are nice.”

“Why?” I followed Jake’s pointed finger and looked over to a woman dancing in a short dark green dress. She was s*xy for sure, and she definitely knew how to flaunt it. Her breasts and thighs were practically on full display, but something seemed to be missing…

“Oh, come on. She is your type, isn’t she? I thought you liked redheads. Let me guess, you’re probably attracted to Nicole Kidman too, huh? G*d, she was incredible in Moulin Rouge.”

I was lost in thought as I stared at the woman in green. She would’ve looked better if she had green eyes. Green eyes like her dress. Green eyes like Olive’s…

“Hey, watch it!” Jake’s disgruntled voice snapped me back to reality, and I noticed that I’d spilled champagne on his suit.

“Sorry, man,” I apologized absentmindedly. “I’ll pay for it.”

“Pff- I don’t want your money. You wanna compensate me, you let me have the chick in the green dress.”

“Go for it.”

I didn’t take any of those women home with me that night.

Or the week after, for that matter.

Jake teased me about my dry spell. “I wouldn’t mind letting you in on a thr*esome,” he offered.

“Seriously, she’s great in bed.”

“F*ck off. Seeing you naked would ruin it.”

But after I turned down all of his invites for the whole month, Jake began to wonder if something was wrong with me.

So I told him that I only had one woman on my mind.

Jake laughed maniacally. “It’s worse than I thought! You’re in love!”

Was I?

Was I in love with Olive Woods?

I probably just wanted to sleep with her, just like how I wanted to pet the white cat when I was younger.

Even if it meant I wouldn’t be able to see any other girls.

I wanted only her, no matter the cost.

After I made up my mind, I was like a young boy in love, and I longed to tell her how I loved her.

Honestly, when I saw a pair of hands on Olive’s waist, I was in a trance.

It was Vincent, an intern for Morgan Stanley. The young man was brilliant for his age, but who cares?

The ambition in his eyes was tainted by jealousy, something I’ve gotten very good at recognizing. The man was nothing more than a hyena waiting to slurp up our table scraps.

But today, he managed to steal the lion’s main course, and he strutted around the place like he was showing off.

I almost gave into my urge to rip his throat out and show him what happens when you steal from a lion, but my anger melted away when I saw Olive’s beautiful green eyes.

I thought of my Mrs. Dalloway. I had gone to the cemetery several times, and everyone thought I was visiting my grandfather, but I just wanted to see the snow-white cat.

And I never saw her again.

Maybe she chose an owner. Maybe she died.

“Hey, Aaron! This is my girlfriend, Olive. She’s a Columbia student just like you.”

“Good pick.” I raised my champagne and toasted with Vincent. “You better treat my junior right.”

Goodbye, my green-eyed cat.

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