Designing for the Billionaire: A Second Chance Romance

Prologue

It might have been a party, but it felt more like a funeral; the death of my life as I knew it. How could anyone be happy at a time like this? I slumped down onto a picnic bench and kicked a pebble across the cement pavilion floor. Even if I wanted to be celebrate my big brother, there was no way that was happening. Not today.

Henry was about to leave for college, and Mom organized a going-away party at the community park. All his friends and our family were in attendance; eating, drinking, and being merry in commemoration of the worst thing ever.

Henry was the only one I had, the one person I relied on, and he was on his way out of my life. When he left, I’d be completely alone. I didn’t want to deal with that. Understatement of the century…

Tears welled in my eyes, and I clenched my fists while I eavesdropped on Aunt Mary talking with Mom about Henry’s time playing lacrosse for the Bobcats.

Who cares, Mary?

Henry did a lot of things better than playing sports. He taught me to ride a bike, how to climb trees, and how to do pre-algebra faster than how I learned it in school. We didn’t have a dad, and I guess Mom didn’t want to try with me. Parenting two kids must be too strenuous. But that didn’t matter because Henry had picked up her slack, and I had no idea what I was going to do without him.

For the last month, I sulked and avoided him. I knew he felt guilt for choosing a school so far away, but he claimed it was the best one to take him where he wanted to go. He wanted to go away from me…

My self-afflicted solitary confinement gave me a taste of my upcoming life, and it was bitter. If the celebratory mood was supposed to get me cheered up and partying along with everyone else, it wasn’t working even a little bit. If anything, the pain was more pronounced, not dulled. Every well-wish for Henry was a stab to my heart.

I’m so done.

I grabbed my ratty backpack, a bottle of water from one of the plastic box coolers set along the wall in the stupid cheery pavilion, the last of my stubborn resolve, and bailed. A day surrounded by happy smiling faces didn’t serve me in the slightest, and no one was going to miss me. At least the rest of the park would be quiet.

With the racket of celebration behind me, the rustling of the summer trees took over. Henry brought me to this park a lot while we were growing up. It’s where I tried roller blading for the first time and skinned both my knees and my left forearm. If I looked carefully, I could still see the scars. That used to be a happy memory, but now it caused an ache behind my eyes. This wasn’t fair.

I used to explore every inch of this park while Henry hung out with his friends. I had a cache of impenetrable hiding places even he didn’t know about, and an occasion like this drew me there. Better to continue avoiding the guest of honor that way.

Instead of heading to the wooden castle where my cousins played, I trekked across the field, as far from the party as I could get. People rarely bothered going over there, so I headed in that direction as quick as my legs could carry me.

The sounds of laughter and conversation faded as I withdrew, and I felt like I could breathe. Exactly what I needed. I didn’t feel the urge to socialize on a regular day, and today, I detested the concept. I didn’t need anyone besides Henry, but…

I’d better get used to being alone.

As I neared the edge of the field, I slowed my pace, relaxation winning out over misery. I could hear birds and splashing water from the stream rather than screaming kids and laughing asshole adults. I took a deep breath, held it a couple seconds, and blew it out so my shoulders would release.

It didn’t work. Everything sucked.

Henry often lamented how I should put myself out there more, but why? Why should I? Before this, I was content. My system worked great until he dropped the bombshell of going to college too far away to commute. Replaying that conversation in my head re-inflicted the same slicing wounds on my heart. There was nothing left in my chest but shredded ribbons of confetti. No bright side. No happiness. No hope.

The stream would be my only friend.

I approached the bend where it wound around the park’s perimeter, separating the manicured space from the wild, overgrown woods on the opposite side. The breeze played with the tall grasses growing between the brambles of my sanctuary.

I stretched out beneath a tree and watched the sunlight make kaleidoscope shapes out of the leaves above my head. This whole day was a reminder that everything was going to change. I plucked a wildflower growing nearby and twirled it in my fingers. Henry always told me to let flowers decide when I couldn’t make up my mind about something. Should I forgive him?

I plucked one petal, then another, and another, until I was left with an answer: forgive him. I’m not ready, dumb flower.

Another flower found its way between my fingers and I tucked it into my hair. For later.

Frustration leaked out on a sigh. College was a good thing, right? Henry deserved good things, and college was supposed to be a good thing. I missed talking to him already, though, and it was only a few weeks since I’d started avoiding him. I hadn’t even said congratulations. Guilt gnawed through my calm, and I clenched my jaw.

A peal of raucous laughter interrupted my ruminating. I sat up and peered around the tree I had sprawled out under, and spied a group of teens traipsing through my meadow.

I’m definitely not dealing with them.

I slipped to the edge and down the bank, hopped across a rock path I constructed several summers ago, and scrambled up the steeper bank on the other side of the stream. I needed access to my maximum security hiding place, stat.

On this side of the water, I had a special tree. It had branches that made a bucket seat way up. In there, I wouldn’t need to worry about anyone finding me and telling me how I needed to act or feel. In my tree, no one would make me pretend.

Raph, age 17

“This will be a great day, Raphael. You’ll have fun. Now get in the car, please.”

It was like a catchphrase. My ‘mom’ dragged me to some picnic party for some guy a year ahead of me I’d never met, because she thought I needed to make more friends. Everyone had their plans and ideas for what I lacked, what would fix me.

They said I was a problem child, and they were right. I was, and I liked it that way. My birth mom left me on the cold cement steps of a church she’d never attended with no records. I didn’t even have a birthday. They took a tiny screaming me to the hospital and did lots of tests. I couldn’t have been more than a few days old. My mother had been on drugs, but I was healthy, if not miserable. Who wouldn’t be in a situation like that? I didn’t blame infant me one bit.

Six foster homes later, and there I was on my way to socialize more. Wannabe Mom was determined to eliminate what was wrong with me.

I rolled my eyes, resigned, and got in the car.

It doesn’t matter, I just have to get through today.

We arrived at a playground with a half-moon of rusty pavilions. I trailed behind, but still snagged myself a cold soda from a portable cooler shoved against the crudely painted cinderblock wall. Small clusters of people dotted the vicinity, and I knew none of them, not even my so-called mom. There were at least ten other places I’d rather be.

My guardian fell into conversation with a group of ladies who looked like they’d come straight from church, even though it wasn’t Sunday and we were outside. It was a prime opportunity to sneak away from her overprotective helicopter mom’s eye.

I didn’t have some grade desire to be a miscreant, I just didn’t want to be told what to do all the time. I was sick of being told how to behave, who to make friends with, what I needed to do with my time… All of it. For the first time in my life, I wanted to choose for myself. But before I made it more than a couple steps, a hand closed around my arm. I froze, tensing all my muscles. Frustration radiated to my toes.

“Why don’t you walk over to the playground and see if there are any kids your age? Maybe you’ll make some friends, Raphael. Isn’t it nice to have some trees and fresh air?”

I said nothing, I just fixed her with a bored stare. Are you done yet?

“Be back in an hour, please.”

She handed me a cell phone, and I shoved it into my pocket, agitated that she didn’t think I was trustworthy enough for even the bare essentials. I was seventeen fucking years old. But I knew better than to argue when some reprieve from her condescension glowed on the horizon.

I walked away from the main pavilion and apprised a group of teenagers standing by an old metal swing set. They didn’t look like they needed a nobody coming up to them looking for friendship, and I didn’t want to be that guy, anyway. I turned on my heel and set off in the other direction.

I was tired of the new-family-every-year-or-so thing, and had a plan to run away to New York. Soon. Tonight. And this plan was better than all the other half-baked schemes I’d hatched over the years. I’d put a lot of effort into this one, and had everything I needed in place. All that was left was biding my time, getting through this pointless party, and waiting until my foster mother went into her bedroom to watch the news. She’s be asleep before the last segment concluded.

Solitude and freedom would be so much better than being around all these people I would never see again, didn’t care about, and therefore, didn’t like. No one ever understood me, and they never tried. As far as I was concerned, it would be good riddance.

After I walked a while and the grating sound of humans softened, I found a stream at the edge of a field. There was a sand bar at the bottom of the steep embankment.

Perfect, peace at last.

I slid down the bank and onto the sand at the water’s edge. The babbling soothed me, and tension eased out of my neck and shoulders. I plopped down and leaned back against the bank, straightening my legs toward the water. I’d spent a lot of time in urban places, but there was a sleepy charm to this suburb I’d remember a little more fondly than some of my other homes.

Wind kicked up, tousling the leaves in the trees across the water. I glanced a flash of color way up. There was something up there.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I jumped across some rocks that looked strategically organized into a hopping path. The last one wobbled under my beat-up sneaker and threatened to toss me into the water. Instead, I lurched forward and fell on my hands and knees on the muddy ground, narrowly avoiding a soaking.

The heels of my hands stung as I brushed away mud and dried out leaves. I looked up the steep tree-laden hill and picked my footholds with precision. I didn’t want to fall while I climbed, or I’d be in worse shape than just being wet. I wasn’t used to the terrain of Nowhereland. It was an adjustment.

I didn’t remember the name of the town I was in, but it didn’t matter. In my mind, I was already gone. By the end of the week, I’d disappear into the night, New York City bound. Tonight, if everything went according to plan.

I made it to the base of the tree without falling on my ass, hallelujah. The neighboring tree had branches low enough that I could jump and reach a good handhold. There were plenty of limbs to climb like a ladder, but foliage blocked me from seeing high enough to discover what I caught a glimpse of before. Even if it was nothing but trash caught on a branch, the tree would make a good hiding spot for the rest of the afternoon until I got called back to the circus to perform tricks for my master.

I hoisted myself into the tree and started the climb toward the thick foliage, working slowly and carefully.

When I got there, I moved smaller branches out of my way and revealed the answer to the mystery.

A beautiful girl asleep in the gnarled branches, golden hair spilling over her freckled shoulder. My heartbeat picked up as I leaned closer, desperate not to make a sound. She smelled like clean air and flowers, and I liked it. I drew closer, unable to resist inspecting my unexpected discovery. She slept so peacefully.

Lia

Iwas at the beach, the day was warm, and Henry and I played in the waves. My butt was bruised from crash-landing more times than I could count. But then, I smelled something woody, earthen, and spicy. I scrunched up my nose, trying to figure out what could cut through the ocean’s pungent aroma.

A twig snapped near my head and my eyes fluttered open. Someone hovered over me, not three inches from my face. I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them again. He was still there, still right in front of me.

This doesn’t seem right. Am I still asleep?

The sticky, drowsy warmth dulled my reaction to the bizarre awakening. Sunlight skewed my view of his face and made his eyes look like they were two different colors. One was the same Atlantic Ocean blue as mine, but the one struck by sunlight looked hazel; nutty brown with green and gold flecks dancing around his pupil. He wore his chocolate brown curls to his shoulders.

And he was staring at me for what felt like an eternity.

A hint of a smile played at the corner of my mouth. He’s so pretty. What a strange dream.

My heartbeat danced as he moved his head, closing the distance. His lips touched mine like a whisper of warmth.

A boy kissed me.

Someone found me, and they kissed me. A beautiful boy with beautiful, weird eyes. I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a dream. His eyes searched me and felt like they could see through me. It was like he knew all my thoughts and fears and understood them. It was like we had known each other all our lives.

My face heated as my dizzy brain tried to catch up. It replayed the kiss on a loop. I was speechless.

“What are you doing up here and not over there?” The boy asked, his voice stuck between man and boy.

“I’m hiding.”

“What are you hiding from?”

“I…”