My Boyfriend’s Friends Kicked Me Off The Ski Trip I Paid For — They Forgot Who Held The Deposits
Part 1
I stared at the living room wall, listening to the muffled sounds of laughter drifting from the kitchen.
Brian was in there with Tyler and the rest of the guys, clinking beer bottles and celebrating the upcoming ski trip.
The ski trip that I had spent the last three months meticulously planning down to the dinner reservations.
I shifted my weight on the sofa, feeling the cold leather seep through my jeans.
My phone buzzed in my pocket with a confirmation email from the resort in Aspen.
I had just paid the final installment on the massive luxury cabin we were all supposed to share.
It had been my idea from the start, a way to bring our whole friend group together for a winter getaway.
I even coordinated the days off with everyone’s bosses so nobody had an excuse to miss out.
Brian walked into the living room, a half-empty bottle dangling from his fingertips.
He didn’t meet my eyes.
Instead, he focused intently on the coaster he was sliding across the coffee table.
I took a slow breath, letting the silence stretch between us.
The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on.
“Tyler was talking about the trip,” Brian muttered, his voice barely rising above the TV in the background.
I nodded, waiting for him to finish the thought.
“Since Dave’s girlfriend got scheduled to work that week, she can’t make it,” he continued, still avoiding my gaze.
I tilted my head, tracing the condensation dripping down his bottle.
“That’s a shame,” I said quietly.
“Yeah, so Tyler thinks it would be weird if you were the only girl there.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.
I blinked, trying to process what he was actually saying.
“Tyler thinks what?” I asked, my voice dangerously steady.
Brian finally looked up, his expression a mask of manufactured helplessness.
“He thinks we should just make it a guys’ trip.”
I felt a cold knot form in the pit of my stomach.
This wasn’t a suggestion.
This was a decision they had already made behind closed doors.
“A guys’ trip,” I repeated, tasting the bitterness of the words.
“I mean, it makes sense, right?” Brian forced a weak laugh.
“You’d probably be bored anyway with just us dudes.”
I stood up, the leather of the sofa creaking in protest.
“I planned this trip, Brian.”
I kept my voice low, refusing to let them hear me upset in the next room.
“I researched the cabins, I booked the ski passes, I arranged the transportation.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit he always fell back on when he wanted to avoid conflict.
“I know you did a lot of work, and we appreciate it.”
The audacity of the word ‘we’ felt like a physical blow.
“But Tyler just feels like having a girl around changes the dynamic.”
My jaw clenched at the memory of countless times spent cleaning up after these guys.
Tyler’s vomit on my bathroom floor after his birthday party came to mind.
Hot breakfasts had been cooked while they snored on our living room rug.
The designated driver keys for every single one of their ridiculous bar crawls were always handed to me.
“And what do you feel, Brian?” I asked, stepping closer to him.
He shrank back slightly, his eyes darting toward the kitchen door.
“I just don’t want to make waves, Megan.”
He was a people pleaser, terrified of upsetting his friends even if it meant throwing me under the bus.
“It’s just one trip,” he pleaded, reaching out to touch my arm.
I stepped out of his reach, folding my arms across my chest.
“They are kicking me off a vacation that I organized.”
“They aren’t kicking you off, they just want some bro time.”
His gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet mine.
My stomach churned as I stared at the man I had been dating for three years.
His knuckles were white around the beer bottle, terrified his friends might call him whipped.
“Fine,” I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion.
Brian’s shoulders slumped in relief.
“Thank you for understanding,” he sighed, taking a swig of his beer.
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
He turned and walked back into the kitchen, immediately greeted by cheers from Tyler and the guys.
They thought they had won.
They thought I was just going to quietly step aside and let them enjoy the fruits of my labor.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened the confirmation email from the cabin rental agency.
My name was at the top of the invoice.
My credit card was the one on file for the deposit.
I tapped on the cancellation policy, reading the fine print carefully.
I had exactly forty-eight hours to cancel the booking for a full refund.
Storming into the kitchen wasn’t my style.
There was no yelling or throwing a fit like Tyler probably expected from me.
My overnight bag was packed in absolute silence.
Through the wall, their bragging about the slopes they were going to conquer next week echoed loudly.
The front door clicked shut behind me as the crisp night air bit at my cheeks.
Settling into the driver’s seat, the illuminated screen of my phone cast a cold glow.
My thumb hovered over the cancel button for the luxury cabin, the ski passes, and the VIP dining reservations.
If they wanted a guys’ trip, they were going to have to plan it themselves.
