“Olivia!”My father shouts through my bedroom door. “Breakfasts almost ready!” 

“What time is it?” I shout back before rolling over burying my face further into my pillow pulling my duvet cover over my head.

I hear the door open.

“Eight o’clock,” dad nudges me. “Now get up and help set up for the party,” He  demands pulling the covers off my body. “And you have to finish packing, you leave for Europe tomorrow morning. Darling, you wouldn’t want to be late for your flight,” my dad finishes moving a piece of hair from my face before kissing my forehead and leaving my room for me to wake up.

I open my eyes, cringe and groan at the sudden light shining brightly through the window, “Dad! Was it really necessary to wake me up at this godforsaken hour of the morning?” I yell rolling out of bed, putting my glasses on, and slam my door shut.

I hear I deep chuckle from the kitchen,“Oh don't be a big baby! Stop your whining and get dressed! You’ll be in England in less than 36 hours! You should be happy right now!” he yells back from the kitchen in our apartment above the Johnson’s Garage.

My dad was rather young for his age. He told me that he came to America when he was seventeen and fell in love with my mom instantly and that they got married a year later. It was truly a love at first sight moment. A year later after that they had me, but my mom had died during childbirth, I can't help but blame myself.
My father works for Caleb Johnson, the richest entrepreneur on the east coast, as his chauffeur since he was 18. He receives a generous pay, we have food on the table, and Mr. Caleb pays for me to attend one of the best schools in New York City, so I have no room to complain. You would thinker would hate driving someone around all the time, but working for your best friend tends to make the job bit easier. 

Mr. Caleb is not ashamed in anyway to call my dad his friend, but I just wish it were the same way for his son, Asher, and I.  His son looks down at me like I'm some type of pest and he gave me the nickname of "Help." He's never calls anyone else by that name and I barely even help around the Estate only when it's short staffed. I hope he gets over that nickname since I'll have to deal with him on the trip to Europe.

I throw on an oversized t-shirt and denim shorts, knot my hair into a messy bun, and brushed my teeth.

“Honey! Breakfast is ready!” My father calls through my door loud enough for me to hear.

“I’m coming!” I yell back putting my purple pair of beats around my neck and slide my phone into my back pocket.

“Mmm. It smells yummy,” I smiled kissing his cheek.

“Morning, Pumpkin,” he smile flipping a piece of French Toast. “I have a plate full and a glass of chocolate milk already ready for you on the table.”

“Morning, and thank you.” I grinned taking a bit of my delicious French Toast Bread. “What do you need me to set up today?” I slur with a mouth full of food.

“Honey, would you at least finish chewing before you start talking?” my dad asks trying to be stern, but a small smile plays on his lips.
“No,” I smirk taking a sip of my milk. “Are you gonna answer my question, Pops?”

“Oh, yes, I need you to clean the ballroom floors again, and set up a few tables and chairs. Do you think you can help Noah and his mom with that while I’m out? Please?” He pleads.
  "Yes, of course I'll do it." I agree before biting into a piece of crispy bacon.

"You're a life saver," he kisses my forehead. He grabs his coat and heads out the door, "I'll be back in three hours, love ya, bye”
"Love you too, Dad!"

After I finished eating I decided to get started on the ballroom early since I still need to pack my bags for Europe.

        —•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

“Noah!” I shouted loudly causing my best friend to jump.

“Livi. You’re so annoying,” he sighs. 

"Feeling the love," I mutter putting my headphones over my ears and start mopping the floor.

Not too long after I arrive, Noah leaves to go help his mother in the kitchen leaving me all in my own. Getting lost in the music I start dancing around and singing into my mop, using it as a microphone. Singing and twirling around the mop, sliding across the slick floor with my socks swiftly… well that was until I ran into a rock hard wall of a body.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stutter nervously looking up and meeting Asher’s amused stare. I blush when I notice his hands are still resting on my waist and one of my hands is  resting on he chest while the other is clutching the mop.

Why am I blushing and why is he standing so close? He can hardly stand the sight of me let alone stand in the same room at this close proximity for an extended amount of time! I wonder to myself.

I clear my throat and back out of his arms. Almost instantly his cold, emotionless stare is back like our little incident never happened.

"Watch where you're going, Help."

"I-I'm Sorry," I mutter, but he's already gone.

        —•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

"Flight 259 London, England, now boarding First Class" A woman announces over the intercom.

"That's my flight," I smile and hug my father. "I'll see you next year."

My dad hugs me tightly, "I'm gonna miss you, Pumpkin, remember to call me. Don't forget about your old man." He kisses my forehead.

"I won't, Dad. I promise. Bye, love you!" I exclaim waving to my dad from the flight attendants podium.

"You're all clear, enjoy your flight." The lady smiles.

"Thank you," I smile back grabbing my passport and boarding pass. I readjust my backpack and walk down the long hall extension attached to the plane.

A male flight attendant greeted me at the plane door, "May I see your boarding pass, Miss?" He asks with a smile on his face.
I hand over my pass.

"Follow me." I follow the flight attendant down the aisle, "Your seat." He smiles.

"Thank you."

"The plane will be filling shortly, sit tight, and I hope you enjoy the flight," he smiles before walking back to the front of the plane.
I place my backpack under my feet, and take out a book to keep my self occupied while more and more people file onto the plane.
"Your seat, sir. Get comfortable coach is about to board"
"Thank you," a boy says while dropping his bag on the seat abruptly.
"Could you not be too roug–" I start to say looking up at the person who threw their bag in the seat next to me.
"What are you doing here, Help?"
"Great," I mutter, of course he's seated next to me on the seven hour flight across the Atlantic.
"What?"
"What?"
"Never mind." He signs tossing his bag under his seat, plopping down in his seat. "So, honestly what are you doing here?"
"I decided today was a good day to get on a flight and travel across the ocean... I'm going on the same trip as you. Why? Does it bother you that you'll be stuck with me for a year?"