He Planned Her Ocean Trip, I Booked a Different One Chapter 01

He Planned Her Ocean Trip, I Booked a Different One Chapter 01

I broke up with Gavin in the train station concourse over Memorial Day weekend.

“Because my seatmate is her and not you?” He laughed.

“Yep.”

He grinned and pulled out his phone, tapping the voice memo app. “Fine. You said it. Don’t come crying later.”

We’d met at seven, fallen in love at eighteen. He knew me too well—knew I could never really leave him.

But he didn’t know the ticket was just an excuse.

I’d already refunded the Amtrak ticket he booked. Changed my destination too.

This time, I meant it.

In a few hours, we’d be on different trains, heading to different cities. New lives, new starts.

***

Gavin held the phone up to my face, making sure I saw the red recording light.

I kept my voice flat. “May 25, 2026. Day two thousand five hundred and ninety-one. June Miller and Gavin Cole are done.”

He blinked, then shook his head with a sigh. “Okay. How long this time?”

“What’s our record—three days? Four?”

He scrolled through his phone and hit play on an old recording.

“Gavin… I miss you so much. I take it back. Please, don’t break up with me…”

My drunken sobbing cut through the station noise. People turned to stare.

He smirked. “That was three months ago.”

His thumb swiped across the screen, looking for more.

I pushed his phone away.

“I’m serious this time.”

His smirk faded. He looked up, eyes sharpening.

“Over a seat? Come on, princess. You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

Dead serious.

We’d planned this trip to Seabluff with friends weeks ago.

Then his intern, Sully, insisted on tagging along.

To make it work, Gavin canceled our original tickets and rebooked everyone on Amtrak. But somehow, all his friends were in Car 2, and my seat ended up in Car 10.

And the seat right next to him? Reserved for Sully.

He even screenshotted the seating chart and posted it on his feed with a caption:

[Who’s down for a spontaneous getaway?]

Those two seat numbers side by side burned like a slap.

“June, don’t be so petty.”

“I told you—I just forgot to add you when I bought the first round. By the time I realized the next day, Car 10 was all that was left.”

“It’s five hours. Not worth getting this worked up over.”

He said it like forgetting to book his own girlfriend’s ticket was no big deal.

Like I was the one making a scene.

I took a breath. “You don’t get it. It’s not about the five hours.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll book us a flight right now—just the two of us. That work for you?”

I stared at him, exhausted.

“You’re switching to a flight? Can I come too, Gavin? I’ve never flown before.”

Sully appeared out of nowhere, sliding an Americano into Gavin’s hand like clockwork. She took a sip from her own Iced Latte, straw between her lips.

She glanced between us, catching the tension. “Oh—June, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what you like. We always grab one Americano and one Iced Latte—force of habit. I totally forgot to get you something.”

I turned to leave. She grabbed my arm.

“June, don’t get the wrong idea. Gavin and I are just friends.”

“I’m just an intern—nothing special. Graduation’s coming up and I’ve been so stressed. That’s all. I’m not trying to cause problems between you two.”

“Small stuff?” I laughed—cold, sharp.

“Sneaking off to movies with my boyfriend is small stuff? Sending him photos of you in dresses you’re ‘trying on’ is small stuff? Weaseling your way onto our trip is small stuff?”

“You’re not helpless—you’re blind. You can’t see a boundary if it’s right in front of you.”

“You want him so bad? Take him. He’s yours.”

Sully’s eyes went red. She dropped her gaze, biting her lip hard.

“June, that’s enough!”

Gavin yanked a napkin from his pocket and handed it to her.

“I know you’re pissed. Take it out on me—not her.”

Sully’s tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Gavin, don’t fight. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have come.”

She spun around and walked toward the exit.

Gavin sighed and followed her.

The station concourse buzzed with noise. Hot, suffocating, impossible to breathe.