5
Ruby
I sat on the edge of my bed, fingers tangled in my hair, pressing against my scalp as if that could somehow hold my thoughts together. My heart still pounded, my stomach twisted into impossible knots. The words tumbled from my lips, muffled against my palms.
"I messed up. I messed up so bad."
The sharp pop of a champagne bottle made me flinch. Cassie, ever the carefree one, grinned as she poured herself a drink, the sound taunting me.
"You are so overreacting," she said, nudging me lightly before handing me the bottle.
I lifted my head just enough to glare at her. "Overreacting?" I scoffed, gripping the bottle but making no move to drink it. "Cassie, I was hands-down rude to the CEO—CFO—whatever the hell he is! I literally called him an asshole to his face!"
Cassie's smirk faltered. "Okay… yeah, that's not great. But maybe he won't take it personally?"
I let out a humorless laugh. "Not take it personally? I stormed into his office, assumed he was some random jerk playing boss, and made sure he knew I wasn't impressed. And guess what? He actually does own the place. Then, to top it all off, he dragged me into a private interview just to humiliate me."
I threw my head back with a groan. "There's no way I'm getting that internship now."
Cassie took a long sip straight from the bottle and winced. "Yikes," she said finally. "I take it back. You did mess up."
I shot her a sharp look, and she immediately threw her hands up. "Kidding! Totally kidding!" she said, though amusement still glimmered in her eyes.
From across the room, Stella—always the rational one—leaned against my dresser, arms crossed. Her expression was calm, measured, the way it always was when she was about to tell me something I didn't want to hear.
"Alright, but let's be realistic," she said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "Even if you don't get the internship, it's not the end of the world. You'll find something else. You always do."
I groaned again, flopping back onto my pillows. "But this wasn't just any internship, Stella. Do you have any idea how many people get this opportunity? It's a one-in-a-million chance, and I blew it because I couldn't keep my damn mouth shut."
Cassie nudged me with her foot. "Yeah, but let's be honest… were you ever going to keep your mouth shut?"
I grabbed a throw pillow and chucked it at her. She yelped, shielding herself with the champagne bottle. "Okay! Okay! I deserved that!" she laughed before plopping down beside me. "But seriously, what's done is done. Maybe he respects that you didn't cower in fear. Maybe he likes a challenge."
I let out a bitter laugh. "Right. Because arrogant billionaire CEOs just love being called assholes in their own offices."
Stella shrugged. "You never know. Maybe he found it refreshing."
I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing the heels of my hands against them. "Highly doubt it. But even if he did, it doesn't change anything. He's probably already blacklisted me. I bet my name is sitting in some 'Do Not Hire' database right now."
Cassie rolled her eyes. "Okay, now you're being dramatic."
"Am I?" I sat up, voice sharp. "Because I think I just destroyed my career before it even started."
A heavy silence settled between us. The weight of my own words pressed down on me, suffocating. My mind spun with the consequences—how this one mistake could set off a chain reaction, ruining everything before it even began.
Cassie and Stella, though, were still looking at me with unwavering faith.
Stella sighed, shaking her head. "Ruby, you're smart, talented, and, honestly? You have more guts than most people in that building. If he can't see that, then screw him."
Cassie grinned. "Exactly! Who needs some brooding, control-freak billionaire anyway?"
I opened my mouth to argue—to wallow a little longer—but something about their certainty made me hesitate. Maybe—just maybe—I wasn't completely doomed.
Or maybe I was.
Stella sighed, giving me that patient, analytical look she always did when she was about to break down my panic with annoying logic. "Ruby, let's be realistic. You made a mistake, sure, but that doesn't define you. You're smart, ambitious, and—whether you meant to or not—you made an impression. Do you know how many people grovel at his feet every day? Maybe you stood out in a way that wasn't entirely terrible."
I groaned. "Stella—"
"No, listen," she cut me off. "Worst-case scenario, you don't get the internship. So what? You always find another way. If he holds a grudge over one bad first impression, then you were right—he is an asshole."
Cassie gasped dramatically. "Wow, Stella. You cursed? I'm so proud."
Stella rolled her eyes while I let out a reluctant chuckle. "Thanks, guys. I feel… about two percent better."
I turned to Cassie, who was lounging beside me with a smug look. "Actually, no. I take that back. Thank you, Stella—only."
Cassie clutched her chest like I'd stabbed her. "Wow. That hurts. I was the one who brought champagne, by the way!"
We all laughed, and for a moment, I almost felt okay. Then, like the universe wasn't done with me yet, I remembered the real reason today was the worst day of my life.
"Oh god," I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "I forgot to tell you the most humiliating part."
Cassie sat up, her eyes gleaming. "Oh, this is gonna be good."
I sighed. "So, you guys remember how I didn't want to wear this top today?"
Stella frowned. "Yeah, you said the button was loose."
I exhaled sharply. "Yeah. Well, turns out I underestimated the size of my boobs because it popped open—right in front of him."
Cassie let out an ear-splitting hoot. "No way! The broody billionaire caught a peek?"
I scowled at her. "Cassie!"
"What?" she said, grinning. "This is the most action you've gotten from the opposite gender in forever. That's pathetic, Ruby. You need to put yourself out there more."
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, because flashing my boss was definitely the way to go."
Cassie waved a dismissive hand. "Details, details. But more importantly," she leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief, "he's hot, right?"
I hesitated, suddenly very interested in a loose thread on my blanket. "I… I guess so? I didn't really notice."
Stella snorted. Cassie scoffed.
"Didn't notice?" Cassie repeated, looking personally offended. "You had a full-blown meltdown over this guy, and you're telling me you didn't notice if he was hot?"
I crossed my arms. "I was too busy trying to salvage my future to care about his face."
Cassie shook her head like I was a lost cause. "Unbelievable. I need to see this man immediately."
Stella chuckled, shaking her head. "Cassie, you're a pig."
Cassie grinned. "Oink, oink, baby."
I sighed, rubbing my temples as they both burst into laughter. Maybe I was doomed, but at least I wouldn't be alone.
I stared down at the fries in my lap, sighing dramatically. "I love you," I mumbled to them, poking at one with a finger. "But you're not helping right now."
Cassie snatched one from my container, tossing it into her mouth with a smirk. "That's because emotional breakdowns require something stronger. Like tequila."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, because tequila is definitely what I need after today."
Cassie shrugged, entirely unbothered, and reclined against the headboard, stretching out her long, tanned legs. If I didn't love her, I'd probably hate her. At 5'7, Cassie had that kind of effortless beauty that turned heads wherever she went—thick, dark waves cascading down her back, high cheekbones, full lips, and honey-brown eyes that always sparkled with mischief. She was the definition of gorgeous.
But Cassie wasn't just a pretty face. She was a force of nature—a social butterfly with the uncanny ability to have guys wrapped around her finger within five minutes of meeting them. A total badass who spoke her mind without an ounce of hesitation. She could go toe-to-toe with anyone, whether it was in an argument, a courtroom, or a bar fight (yes, that had happened before). And to top it all off, she was brilliant—currently in her fourth year of law school, determined to become the kind of attorney who walked into a courtroom and made people sweat.
She wasn't even born in the U.S. Cassie was from Mexico, where she spent the first fifteen years of her life until her father—a high-ranking diplomat—got transferred to New York. The move had been a culture shock at first, but Cassie, being Cassie, had adapted quickly, turning the city into her own personal playground.
And then there was Stella—the complete opposite of Cassie in every way.
At 5'6, Stella was all elegance and poise—blonde hair always sleek and well-kept, deep blue eyes sharp and observant, her wardrobe a carefully curated mix of neutrals and classic pieces. She was analytical, logical, and composed to an almost frustrating degree. Where Cassie was all heart and impulse, Stella was rationality—the type of person who approached everything like a numbers game. A born strategist.
Stella came from the UK, moving to New York to study finance at Columbia University, and if anyone was going to take over Wall Street someday, it was her. She had this ability to see things ten steps ahead, to predict outcomes before anyone else even saw them coming. But emotions? Yeah, those weren't exactly her thing.
She wasn't cold, not really. She just… processed things differently. While Cassie and I could go on long rants about our feelings, Stella would sit there, listen, and then summarize our entire emotional crisis in one brutally honest statement that was usually right—annoyingly right.
We'd met during freshman year when the university assigned us to the same dorm. It was an instant connection—Cassie with her endless energy, Stella with her quiet confidence, and me somewhere in the middle, trying to balance the chaos. From that moment on, we were inseparable.
Now, we shared an apartment just off-campus, splitting the rent three ways. It wasn't anything fancy—two bedrooms, a small but functional kitchen, a cramped living room with a couch that had seen better days—but it was ours. The walls were decorated with fairy lights, mismatched frames filled with pictures of our adventures, and a ridiculous amount of throw pillows that Cassie kept hoarding. It wasn't much, but it was home.
Cassie, the baby of the group at 22, loved to remind us that we were ancient in comparison. Stella was the oldest at 25, and I was right in the middle, turning 24 in a month.
"So," Cassie said, breaking the silence. "Back to the important topic—was he hot?"
I groaned. "Oh my God, are we still on this?"
"Yes, because you're dodging the question."
"I am not dodging—"
Cassie cut me off with a dramatic gasp, sitting up suddenly. "Wait. I just realized something."
"What now?" I asked warily.
Her grin turned wicked. "You flashed him and caught him staring. Ruby, that man has seen your boobs."
I nearly choked. "Cass!"
"What?" She held up her hands innocently. "I'm just stating facts! This is the most action you've had in a while."
I scowled. "That is not—"
"Oh, come on," Cassie teased, nudging Stella. "Tell her I'm right."
Stella, still leaning against my dresser with her arms crossed, gave her a deadpan look. "Cassie, you're a pig."
Cassie smirked. "Oink, oink, baby."
I threw my head back with a groan, but despite myself, I laughed. No matter how much of a disaster today had been, I couldn't deny one thing--I had the best friends in the whole world.