
Oops. My Boss Was Seventeen
Selena Maeve · Completed · 257.7k Words
Introduction
The Execution: Perfect. I brought him coffee, cheered at his games, and basically operated as his unpaid teenage executive assistant. He’s totally buying it.
The Problem: I was trying to network my way into the C-suite. I think I just networked my way into his bed.
Chapter 1
Ring. Ring.
The relentless, shrill scream of the alarm clock didn't just wake Julie Carven; it drilled directly into her skull.
She stared blankly at the cheap, suffocating mosquito net draped over her bed, violently refusing to accept this heavy reality. Groaning, she rolled over and buried her face deep into the lumpy pillow. If I don't look, it isn't real.
Around her, the cramped dorm room was already alive. The rustle of blankets and soft yawns echoed as her roommates started their chaotic, practiced morning routine.
Tania Graf, the unofficial RA of Room 602, noticed Julie hadn't moved an inch. Stepping up to the edge of the bunk, she gently shook Julie’s shoulder. “Julie, wake up. It’s six.”
Senior year meant mandatory early study hall at six-thirty sharp. It was only the first week back, but getting caught rolling in late meant public humiliation, or worse, being forced to stand in the hallway for an hour like a disobedient child.
A few seconds later, Julie propped herself up on her elbows. Her hair was a wild mess, her face completely dead to the world. “…I’m going to die.”
“Stop being dramatic,” Tania laughed, ruffling Julie’s hair with infuriating cheerfulness. As the oldest of the six girls, she was used to taking care of them. “You were full of energy yesterday. Come on, don't waste time. Get up.”
Yesterday.
Yesterday, the girl inhabiting this body had been a genuine seventeen-year-old, stressing over nothing more severe than unfinished English homework.
But today? The soul trapped inside this teenage vessel was a burned-out, twenty-seven-year-old corporate slave.
Sometime in the dead of night, she had jolted awake, parched. She’d almost swung her legs over the edge of the bed, nearly breaking her neck before the top-bunk safety rail caught her. Her body had reacted faster than her brain, breaking out in a cold sweat. When her eyes snapped open, the dim moonlight had revealed a claustrophobic room packed with snoring girls.
It was like waking up in a psychological thriller.
If Tania hadn't mumbled groggily from the next bed to ask what was wrong, Julie would have screamed. Covered in goosebumps, she had scrambled for the phone under her pillow. When the screen lit up, her brain completely short-circuited.
She had tried to convince herself it was just a stress dream—like the ones where you show up to take your SATs completely naked and illiterate. She had closed her eyes, thinking, I need to sleep. If I’m tired at the office tomorrow, I’m going to need a lethal dose of iced Americano to survive.
Yet here she was. The nightmare was still going.
“What year is it?” Julie had asked desperately in the dark.
Tania had looked at her with pure pity. “I don’t know what year it is, I just know we are in the middle of college app hell.”
Another victim of the senior-year pressure cooker.
Julie squeezed her eyes shut, suffering silently before climbing down the ladder. Slipping into her plastic sandals, she trudged to the cramped bathroom. Three girls were already elbowing for space at the single sink. Julie grabbed her comb, her expression resembling someone attending a funeral as she ruthlessly yanked it through her tangled ends.
She glanced at the familiar, yet painfully distant faces of her roommates.
The summer after graduation, they’d sworn to stay close. That had devolved into passive likes on social media and a half-empty table at Tania’s wedding three years ago. Being squeezed back into this tiny, humid space with them felt entirely surreal.
It had been ten years. Julie stared at the row of colorful plastic cups on the shelf, completely blanking on which one was hers.
Tania nudged her, a mouth full of foam. "What's wrong?"
Julie took a gamble on a pink cup that matched her old aesthetic. When Tania didn't scream at her for stealing a toothbrush, she started brushing aggressively.
The chaotic morning symphony echoed down the hall. “My socks are still wet! What am I supposed to wear?!” “Are you going to the cafeteria? Grab me a bagel!” “No time! I’ll eat after study hall!”
In the future, Julie used a high-end sonic toothbrush and hoarded expensive perfumes in a dedicated glass vanity. Now, she stared at a cheap bottle of drugstore moisturizer on her tiny desk. With a heavy sigh, she slapped it onto her cheeks.
By the time she grabbed her backpack and followed Tania out the door, the heavy September heat of Bayview was already sinking into her skin.
Julie felt lightheaded. Aside from catching a red-eye flight, she hadn’t woken up this early in years. Even in college, she dragged herself to 8am classes at the very last second. Her adult life hadn't been glamorous, but she never had to clock in before nine. She paid rent on a tiny apartment near her office, ordered cheap takeout, and slept until eight without an ounce of panic.
Being a high school senior is a literal human rights violation.
“Are you okay? You’re acting weird today,” Tania noted, dragging a breathless Julie down the long path to the main building.
Julie’s heart skipped a beat, but she lied smoothly. “Just cramps. I think my period is starting.”
Tania’s eyes widened with genuine panic. “At the beginning of the month? What if it hits during your SATs?”
Julie deadpanned. “Tania, you’re hilarious.”
Honestly, time travel was completely wasted on her. She had no dead relatives to save, no tragic past to rewrite. Give this rebirth to someone who actually needed it. From seventeen to twenty-seven, she’d lived a perfectly average, happy life.
Her only real "failure" had been a naive attempt at making it in the entertainment industry after graduation. She'd spent five years playing nameless extras before her parents forced her to move back home. She’d pivoted into a stable corporate job with full benefits and weekends off. She had liked her boring, predictable life.
“We just have to get through it,” Tania sighed, completely oblivious to Julie’s inner crisis. “My parents keep saying, ‘Just suffer for this one year, and the rest of your life will be easy.’ My ears are bleeding from hearing it.”
Just suffer for one year? Julie’s mouth twitched. The biggest lie ever sold to teenagers.
Maybe nostalgia had put a filter on her memories, because she used to think her high school days were fulfilling. Now that she was actually back in it? It was pure agony. I just want to wake up in my apartment, she thought. Hell, I’ll even take my cubicle.
As the academic building loomed closer, Tania started rambling about picking a college major and future careers. Teenagers had such ridiculous fantasies. They thought adulthood meant wearing sharp suits and sipping martinis with colleagues after closing deals. They didn't know about surging Uber prices, crying on crowded subways, or fighting over a two-dollar refund on a late food delivery.
The future.
Just thinking about doing the next ten years all over again made Julie’s chest ache. Distracted, she stepped up into the crowded hallway. The bell was minutes away, and the corridor was a chaotic blur of rushing bodies.
She wasn't looking.
She stepped right into someone's path, her shoulder slamming hard into a wall of solid, unyielding muscle. The impact sent a violent jolt through her frame, knocking her off balance.
Before she could stumble backward, a strong hand gripped her arm, steadying her effortlessly.
“Are you okay?” a deep, resonant voice rumbled just above her ear.
Julie gasped, her head snapping up.
Standing in front of her was a boy with a dangerously sharp jawline and dark, intense eyes. He was easily six-foot-one, built with the lean, coiled power of an athlete. He looked down at her, his dark brows pulling together in a frown that carried far too much natural authority for a teenager.
Her breath hitched. Her corporate instincts practically bypassed her brain. Looking into those eyes, she had to bite her tongue to stop the words from slipping out.
Good morning, Boss.
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