Stranded for Christmas with my Boss (Forbidden Billionaire Boss Daddies)

Amelia

"Ames, I'm telling you that we would have the time of our lives. You would love my dad's beach house—it overlooks the water, and it’s huge, so you wouldn't have to worry about privacy."

I sighed as I transferred the rest of my clothes from my small dresser to my suitcase. Reagan was attempting for the hundredth time to convince me to spend the summer with her and her dad at his beach house in Malibu. I really appreciated her efforts, but I was so done with pity.

A few weeks ago, I'd walked in on my boyfriend having sex with the girl that lived three dorms down from me and Reagan. Obviously, I'd never expected to catch my boyfriend of three years in the act, but what was worse was the way Michael had reacted to my stunned expression. The words had been playing on loop in my head for several weeks straight: "I don't know why you're so surprised, Amy—it's not like you were putting out."

The whole incident was humiliating enough, but Michael’s very vocal reminder to me, and apparently anyone who would listen that I was still a virgin, just added more salt to the wound. It wasn’t like I’d set out to stay a virgin into my early twenties, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t opportunities to do it. It just never felt quite right. Maybe it was the way I’d heard other girls talk about it, like it was just something to get over with. I’d been warned more than once that I probably wouldn’t like it at first, and with the way Michael pawed at me, I believed that. Every time we came close to going all the way, something stopped me. It wasn’t like I was expecting any big romance or rose petals or something like that. I just thought that I probably shouldn’t feel like I wanted to throw up right before I had sex with someone.

When I’d shared my feelings with Reagan, she’d laughed out loud, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, girl, but if you were worried about upchucking right before you did the deed, then Michael clearly was not the one to be giving your V-card to.”

As if that wasn't humiliating enough, it turned out the girl Michael was with, Scarlet, saw fit to tell everyone on campus all the gory details—including the apparently "hilarious" look of horror on my face and what a prude I must have been. My misery was the source of her current joy. Her love for gossip drove students I’d never even met to leave me notes on the board of my dorm room telling me in various crude ways how they could help me “loosen up.” It was like some bizarre reversal of the Scarlet A stitched to my chest with my virgin status being spread around on social media like a wildfire and some men finding it to be a personal challenge.

As distressing as that was, for the most part, others on campus didn't seem to share in her delight. Instead, they looked at me with pity, and I'd even caught people whispering behind their hands, "That is the girl that…,” or, “I heard she’s a virgin.”

Honestly, in this day and age, I would have thought we were all evolved enough to not care. Apparently, I was deadass wrong.

I only had one semester left before I graduated college—something I reminded myself of at least twenty times a day now, and I hated how much the end of my college days were spent feeling like I was right back in high school. High school had been miserable. I’d been the girl who would do other students’ homework to avoid conflict, and I had been well on that track in college, too, until I met Reagan. Reagan had my back from day one, and she’d given me the courage to put myself out there. In no time, I had a boyfriend, a circle of friends, and a new lease on life. But as great as Reagan had been, the last few weeks had shown me that it was going to take real work from myself to keep from reverting back to my doormat status. That was part of the reason I kept refusing her offer to stay with her for the summer. As appealing as a summer in a beach house lolling about the sand sounded, I didn’t want to feel like I was mooching off my best friend after getting dumped. Unfortunately, that meant that I would be spending the summer in my old bedroom in my parents’ house when I wasn’t taking shifts at the burger shack for extra cash—so much for not feeling like a high schooler again.

“Reagan, you know I appreciate the offer, but I need to figure this out on my own,” I told her as I zipped up my suitcase.

Reagan rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. “Uhh, that whole ‘I am an island’ bull. Our society has over-romanticized going it alone. There’s nothing wrong with leaning on your friends in times of need.”

“I know, I just think I need to do this on my own,” I told her. She opened her mouth to argue more, but the text alert chirping on my phone interrupted her. “That’s food,” I said, slinging the strap of my purse over my shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Begrudgingly, she allowed my excuse to work, but not with another massive eyeroll. “You can dodge me now, but this conversation is not over,” she warned.

I smiled at her. “Yes, mother,” I called over my shoulder, ducking just in time to miss the pillow she threw at me.

“And don’t forget extra soy sauce,” she called after me as I shut the door behind me. God bless her, that girl had been holding my hand every step of the way since Michael’s betrayal. I really didn’t deserve her as a friend. She always knew just what to say, and as I walked across the courtyard, my steps felt a little bit lighter knowing she was rooting for me.

Maybe I would come back to school in a couple of months as a whole new woman. Maybe I would reinvent myself and no longer be the woman who people looked at with pity or laughed at. As if I conjured it, I heard laughter behind my back…all too familiar laughter. Before I could stop myself, I looked back, and there she was. Scarlet. She had her arms wrapped around the very familiar neck of a tall, lanky man who was my ex-boyfriend, and she was grinning like the Cheshire cat as she locked eyes with me. When our eyes met, her grin widened, and she held my gaze as she started kissing the side of Michael’s neck. Next to them, I saw one of Scarlet’s friends turn around and laugh maniacally when she realized what was going on.

I ripped my gaze away and rushed towards my destination, the Chinese restaurant across the street. My face burned as I hoofed it across the street, and it occurred to me how much I’d spent my life trying to pretend everything was ok, which was particularly difficult considering I had a horrible poker face. I was so damn tired of soldiering on. I smiled politely at the cashier when I picked up my order, acting like I hadn’t just been humiliated yet again.

The cashier’s name was Lucy. She was a friendly girl who I’d partnered with on a few projects in various classes. She took one look at me and said, dismayed, “Oh no, what happened?”

Oh God, please not now…shit, too late. My face crumpled. I scrambled to recover, but to my horror, the tears were already streaming down my face like I sprung a damn leak.

“Oh no, oh, Amy,” Lucy said sympathetically as she came from behind the register and hooked an arm through mine, leading me somewhere more private. Whether this was to save me from further embarrassment or to keep from ruining the appetites of the dine-in patrons, I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that I was now in the kitchen of Chen’s Cafe, bawling my eyes out while my former lab partner patted me soothingly on the back and encouraged me to let it all out. I did just that. I spilled everything I just saw and everything that had been going on for the last few weeks and how I was probably going to be a virgin forever and why the hell did I waste three years on a man who couldn’t even remember my birthday but could remember all the word to Blink 182’s “All the Small Things.”

By the time all of it was out, Lucy was holding me and Mrs. Chen, the cafe’s owner, along with one of the waitresses were circling around me. The waitress, whose name tag read Alyssa shook her head in disgust. “Men are shit, you remember that,” she said, pointing at me.

“Not all men,” Lucy said.

“Yes all men,” Alyssa insisted, scooting out of the kitchen with a pitcher of water.

Lucy sighed. “Well, I can’t say I agree with her, but as far as your ex-boyfriend is concerned—,”

“Fuck that guy,” Mrs. Chen interjected.

“Well, yeah that,” Lucy said with a small smile. For the first time in a long time, I laughed, a true genuine laugh at the sound of sweet Mrs. Chen saying that about Michael. It was only three simple words, but something about her conviction in them shoved some of the weight off my chest.

“There you go, that’s better,” Lucy encouraged. “Look, I know things feel dark now, but you’re going to have a great summer, I just know it—I’m great at reading auras. You have some amazing things ahead of you, you really do.”

“Thank you, Lucy, Mrs. Chen.” I nodded towards the older woman.

Mrs. Chen nodded and tapped Lucy on the shoulder. “Two extra egg rolls in her bag, on the house.” I thanked her, and she disappeared toward the back.

“I’m sorry for taking you away from your job,” I sniffed. “No. No, don’t be sorry. I’m just glad you could get it out. Here,” she said, pulling a notepad out of her apron pocket and tearing off a sheet and handing it, along with a pen, over to me. “Write down your birthday and the minute you were born, and I’ll do your chart for you— free of charge. I bet it’ll back up the reading I’m getting from your aura. You just wait and see. Your life is about to change, Amy.”

I couldn’t say I really believed her, but I wrote down the information she asked for anyway because she’d been so sweet to me. After thanking her profusely, I finally gathered up my order and left. I walked around the long way to get back to the dorm room, not feeling hungry anymore despite the appetizing smells wafting up from the takeout bag in my hand. I was sick of feeling embarrassed, of feeling cornered and alone. I was mad at the fact that I was holding back tears once again over my dirtbag ex-boyfriend, and I was just so over all the bullshit. When I stepped into the dorm room I shared with Reagan, she took one look at me and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Before I could talk myself out of it, I told Reagan, “I think I want to come with you for the summer.”

“What? That’s awesome!” She jumped up from her bed. “Oh my God, we’re going to have so much fun…” She continued on, excitedly rambling the whole time, and as we dug into our food, we came up with plans for all the things we would do on the beach, just a couple of single, carefree, young women enjoying the sun.

“Ooh, I need to call my dad and tell him we’re going to have even more fun this summer since you’re going to be there,” she said, reaching for her phone.

“Are you sure he’s going to be ok with me crashing the party? I mean, I don’t want to interrupt any quality time you were planning on having,” I worried.

Reagan waved off my concern. “No worries, he has a home office at the beach house, so he still spends a good deal of time working during the day.” She looked up at me with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, “Which leaves us with plenty of time to find some trouble of our own.”

I smiled but silently vowed to myself that while I would spend the summer having fun with my best friend, I would also take the opportunity to work on myself and try new things—no more little miss doormat. No more poor Amy.