Page 13 of Can't Kiss the Chef

“Yeah, I just got this one, it’s of that picture of the penguin I took this summer.”

Awkward pauses in conversations always make my skin crawl but the way he’s smiling at me makes me want to keep the conversation going.

“You’ll have to let me know how it is. The new brewery I mean.”

“To do that, I’ll need your number.” He hands me his phone with a smirk so sexy I don’t think twice about giving him my number. He sends me a meme from Stepbrothers that says ‘Did we just become best friends?’so I have his number too.

“I see you don’t have to be drunk to be absolutely ridiculous.”

“Nah, I’m just a good time.”

That cocky arrogance–that every guy I’ve ever been attracted to has–shines through Dalton so brightly I feel like I need to find my sunglasses.

“Yo Dalton, our table is ready.” Somebody yells from halfway down the block.

Dalton points his thumb over his shoulder before locking eyes with me. “That’s my call. I’ll text you this week. I’d love to take you out.”

“Yeah, that could be a lot of fun.” I try to keep it cool but I’m not sure I hit the mark.

“Yeah, definitely could be.”

Indy always says the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new, and there are a lot worse people to get under than Dalton Powell.

5

Lola

There is nothing more euphoric than waking up to weather that matches your mood.

The sun is shining. Birds singing. The smell of coffee wafting through the house.

That’s what I wake up to on the first day of classes. The anticipation of taking classes for a major I chose has me thinking I might not need that second cup of coffee this morning.

The espresso machine hisses, spitting out the liquid gold. I blame Nonno for my caffeine addiction. I may need five cups of coffee a day to function like a somewhat normal adult, but it’s better than being addicted to drugs.

With my drink in hand, I go through my backpack running down my mental checklist.

Textbooks ??

Notebooks ??

Pens ??

Hair ties ?

I run up to my room and dig through my vanity and there is not a single hair tie in sight. The boxes I neglected to unpack mock me. I guess I should have prioritized organization over a party at he who shall not be named’s house. I hate that when he told me he missed me, I believed him. If he really missed me, wouldn’t he have made more of an effort to stay in touch this summer?

I look across the hall, and Margo’s door is slightly ajar. She’s a senior on the basketball team and took Ivy’s old room.

I lightly tap on the door, but enter before she says anything. Margo and I have been friends since she transferred to Westvale at the start of our sophomore year. I consider myself the five-foot-three mascot for the Westvale Retrievers Women’s basketball team.

“Hey, Margo, do you have some hair ties I can use? I need them for my culinary class.”

Margo’s bloodshot eyes are the first thing I notice when she looks up from her laptop. She went to Jasper’s– the best college dive bar you’ll ever find– last night and clearly had a good time. She lets out a grunt before pointing to her dresser, where a wicker basket is overflowing with bright scrunchies. I dig through it, hoping to find something black, I’d even settle for navy blue.

“Would it kill you to own something black?” I know I should be appreciative that she is letting me dig through her things, butreally how do you not own one neutral color thing but never clash? Make it make sense!

She looks up at me, eyes half-dead. “Yes, yes, it would,” she grunts before jumping out of her bed and racing down the hall to the bathroom that we share.

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