Beyound the schedule

Today was the day.

I had waited three whole weeks for this, and now it was finally happening—vacation time.

And not just any vacation. Hawai.

Sun, beaches, warm breezes, delicious food, and—most importantly—two whole weeks of dragging Lydia Whitmore out of her cold, professional shell and into the world of fun.

I had a flawless plan.

Lydia thought she could control everything, but she had no idea what was coming.

Grinning to myself, I grabbed my bags and stepped outside, feeling completely, ridiculously excited.

The sun was already high, the air warm with that perfect breeze that just screamed relaxation. I took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh morning air—

And immediately spotted Lydia's car parked neatly outside my villa.

I smirked.

Of course, she was early. Of course, she was prepared. But the real question was—was she mentally prepared for me?

Still grinning, I strolled over, my suitcase rolling smoothly behind me.

The moment I opened the car door, I froze. Because Lydia Whitmore was wearing a dress. Not one of her usual sharp, structured, power-move outfits. Not some corporate, high-fashion, I-run-your-life ensemble.

No, this was a simple, cute, light-colored dress. The fabric was soft, flowing around her legs as she sat with perfect posture, her long golden-brown hair styled effortlessly, catching the morning light just enough to look almost unfairly pretty.

I blinked rapidly, my brain short-circuiting for a second.

Lydia looked… cute?

What the hell?

"You're wearing a dress," I blurted out, still processing.

Lydia didn't even glance up from her phone. "Excellent observation."

I slid into the passenger seat, still staring at her. "But… why?"

She sighed, adjusting her seatbelt. "Because, Freya, we are going on vacation. And contrary to your beliefs, I am capable of dressing appropriately for the occasion."

I squinted at her suspiciously. "You planned this, didn't you?"

She finally looked at me, green eyes sharp. "Of course, I planned it."

I stared. Then, slowly, my lips stretched into a mischievous grin.

"Oh, this is gonna be fun," I murmured, buckling my seatbelt.

Lydia gave me a warning glance before putting the car in drive and pulling onto the road.

I leaned back, stretching my arms above my head dramatically. "So, are you excited?"

"I'm existing," she replied flatly.

I gasped loudly, clutching my chest. "Lydia, that is the saddest thing I have ever heard."

She ignored me.

I grinned. "Come on. You can admit it. You're a little bit excited, right?"

She exhaled sharply. "Freya, I haven't even been told where we're going. I am mentally preparing for the worst."

I bit back a laugh. "You act like I'm kidnapping you."

She gave me a long, pointed look.

I grinned wider. "Okay, fine, maybe a little."

She sighed again, her patience already thinning.

I tapped my fingers against the dashboard. "Alright, so hear me out—since we're going on this amazing, relaxing, fun-filled trip together, I think we should have one rule."

Lydia glanced at me, skeptical. "Which is?"

"No schedules."

She visibly tensed.

"No color-coded plans. No perfectly timed activities. Just vibes."

Lydia gripped the steering wheel tighter, looking physically pained.

"I will die before I let this trip descend into chaos," she stated firmly.

I let out a dramatic sigh, throwing my head back. "You have no sense of adventure."

"I have common sense," she corrected.

I waved a hand dismissively. "Same thing."

She gave me a long, tired look, before returning her attention to the road.

For the rest of the ride, I bothered her with random questions—about what she packed, if she had ever surfed (she hadn't, which was tragic), and whether or not she'd be wearing anything less professional during the trip.

She ignored most of my questions. But I saw her fingers twitch on the wheel when I asked if she'd be wearing a bikini.

Which meant I definitely needed to see that happen.

By the time we reached the airport, I was bouncing with excitement. Lydia, on the other hand, looked like she was mentally preparing for war.

I grabbed my suitcase and stretched, letting out a content sigh. "Alright, time to reveal our grand destination."

Lydia adjusted her bag, still calm and composed. "Let's hear it."

I turned to her slowly, grinning wide.

Then, with maximum dramatic flair, I spread my arms and declared:

"We're going to Hawai."

Lydia stared at me, expression unreadable.

Then, after a long pause—

She closed her eyes.

Breathed deeply.

And said, in the flattest voice imaginable:

"Of course, we are."

---

The moment we stepped into the airport, the energy shifted.

I was used to it, of course—the quick recognition, the way heads turned, the hushed whispers, the excitement buzzing in the air whenever I entered a crowded space.

Lydia, however, was not.

She walked beside me, her posture perfectly composed, her expression unreadable as we moved toward the check-in counter. But I could tell—she was already regretting everything.

A group of teenagers had spotted me almost immediately, whispering among themselves before one of them finally gathered the courage to approach.

"Um, Freya?" A girl with bright pink nails clutched her phone nervously, her eyes wide with excitement. "Can we—can we get a picture with you?"

I grinned, already reaching for the phone. "Of course!"

Lydia sighed quietly, shifting her bag onto her shoulder as I effortlessly slipped into full celebrity mode—snapping selfies, signing a few jerseys, making quick conversation while the group gushed about my last match.

More people started noticing.

I could feel Lydia stiffening beside me as more fans gathered, some asking for autographs, others pulling out their phones to record.

Lydia leaned in slightly, voice calm but firm. "Freya, we're on a schedule."

I smirked, whispering back, "Oh no, is the schedule falling apart already?"

Her sharp glare could have cut glass.

I grinned wider and turned back to the fans, signing the last jersey before Lydia actually dragged me away toward the check-in counter.

She walked briskly, not stopping for anything, and I had to fight back laughter at the way she was practically marching toward the security line like this was a military operation.

"You're ridiculous," I murmured, adjusting my sunglasses.

Lydia didn't even look at me. "You were wasting time."

"It's called interacting with fans," I said smoothly. "You should try it sometime."

She ignored me, handing over our passports to the check-in agent, who barely glanced at mine before blinking rapidly at Lydia.

"Oh my god," the woman said suddenly, eyes widening. "You're—aren't you Carmen Steele's former assistant?"

I turned immediately, absolutely delighted.

Lydia visibly tensed.

"I—" she started, clearly wanting to deny everything, but the woman was already beaming at her.

"I remember you! You were legendary. I saw a video of you once shutting down an entire boardroom just by raising an eyebrow."

I gasped dramatically, turning to Lydia. "Is this true? Do you have secret powers I don't know about?"

Lydia's jaw clenched. "We're in a hurry."

The woman nodded enthusiastically, quickly finishing our check-in. "Enjoy your flight! And you—" she looked at me, smiling, "—try not to make her quit."

I laughed. "No promises."

Lydia grabbed my arm and pulled me toward security before I could cause more chaos.

After the usual security check, where I very nearly set off alarms on purpose just to mess with Lydia, we finally made our way toward the luxury lounge area, where our gate was waiting.

Lydia walked with purpose, determined to get through this without incident.

Which, of course, meant I had to make it difficult.

"Do you even like vacations?" I asked as we walked toward the boarding area.

She adjusted the strap of her bag. "I like efficiency."

"That's a no."

"I take breaks when necessary."

"That's also a no."

Lydia let out a slow, measured exhale, clearly reaching the limit of her patience.

By the time we boarded, we had barely spoken a word, mostly because I was too busy admiring our seats.

The luxury section of the plane was incredible—massive, comfortable seats, privacy dividers, personal service, and, most importantly, unlimited champagne.

I collapsed into my seat, grinning smugly as Lydia sat beside me, already pulling out her tablet to check something.

I leaned over, resting my chin on my hand. "You know what, Whitmore?"

She didn't look up. "What, Vesper?"

I smirked.

"This is going to be the best vacation ever"