Page 44 of The Lucky One
I should’ve known there’d be consequences for allowing myself to be happy with Jon.
I shifted my backpack off my shoulders. Enough was enough. I was doing something for me, and I wouldn’t let her of all people shame me for it. “Breana, I don’t want any drama.”
Her nostrils flared. “You’re the drama! I thought I could trust you when I brought you into my group!” She was shouting, drawing our classmates’ attention. But she didn’t care. Of course not: this was Breana, always craving the spotlight.
“I fell in love,” I shouted back. “How am I supposed to ignore that?”
“You’re even more pathetic than I thought if you believe this’ll last longer than a few weeks,” she retorted.
I turned to my locker. “Think whatever you want to think, Breana.” Warnings like those didn’t scare me anymore. I was done letting people tell me how my relationship with Jon would go. His actions spoke louder than all their words.
Breana stormed into the classroom, and I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply.
“I’m sorry,” Danielle said.
“Why didn’t you say something?” I opened my locker with shaky hands, hating how much confrontation affected me.
“I don’t know...” She sighed, leaning against her locker. Strands of hair neatly framed her face under her chef’s hat. “I mean, I saw you with Jon in the hall, but it’s still so new to me. Like, I need to get used to it.”
Getting used to the idea of us being happy together was such a challenge for her, and I couldn’t understand why. I stared into my locker, searching for answers, when I noticed a piece of paper resting on my cooking jacket. I took it out and read it.
I wish I could see you in your cooking uniform. I bet you look adorable in it. -J
A huge grin spread across my face. He figured out my locker number to leave me a note!
Danielle didn’t know Jon the way I did. If she got to know him better, she’d surely accept us. And maybe even bring Breana to her senses. “Look at this.”
She raised her brow but took the paper. Her eyes widened when she finished reading. “‘J’... Could be anyone.”
I rolled my eyes. “C’mon, Danielle. Don’t be so hard on him.”
“Fine, I guess this is cute, but I still don’t trust him.” She returned the note and crossed her arms.
Danielle was my best friend. I wanted—no, needed her in my corner. “How about we go on a double date?” I suggested. “I’ve always wanted to get to know Timo better, and you can hang with Jon and see that you can trust him after all.”
She didn’t even try to hide her astonishment. “You really think that’s a good idea?”
“Why not?” I shrugged. “Please, give him one more chance.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “If Jon’s on board, I’ll ask Timo.”
I pumped my fist. “Yes!”
Danielle laughed and headed in to class—and my brain suddenly froze. Jon and I had never even gone on a real date, and here I was proposing a double date with a girl who wasn’t his biggest fan and a guy he didn’t even know.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Today we had a lesson on the various ways to prepare eggs: poached eggs, over-easy eggs, eggs Benedict, scrambled eggs... In Germany we ate our scrambled eggs in big, fluffy pieces, but in America they were mushy. I got a cramp in my wrist from all the whisking, so I served it the way I knew it instead.
Chef Sayle was not impressed. “You can’t tell me you haven’t had scrambled eggs here yet, Emily,” he said, pointing to Danielle’s exemplary mushy eggs. I realized I couldn’t play the clueless German card any longer.
“You’re saying I’m an American now?” I teased, and he patted my shoulder.
“If you can get those eggs right, you are.”
I cracked open fresh eggs with one hand, using the technique Chef Sayle had shown us, determined to prove him right. A piece of shell dropped into the bowl and I tried to fish it out, but it kept slipping away. I had to go to the sink to wash the egg off my fingers.
“Psst!”