Page 45 of There's No Us Without You
The warm, humid air hits my skin when I push through the heavy glass door, bringing with it the smells of the various takeaway shops lining both sides of the street. My stomach growls in response, reminding me I left the house this morning without eating breakfast.
I suck in a calming breath and head towards the mall. If I’m going to handle tonight’s bullshit, I’d better eat something. Don’t need me mangling someone’s face because my blood sugar is low.
Tonight will be the usual Thursday night crowd full of university students, and creepy older dudes looking to score with said university students. It’s kind of like Schoolies when the grade twelves finish their final year and head away for a week to celebrate. There are always those older guys—some of them around my age—hanging around like a bad smell.
As I get closer to the mall, Eden’s scent hits me before the sight of her does. Weird that I can pick her scent in a crowd of people but call it the animalistic side of me—like prey to the lion’s nose.
I scan the crowd until I spot her, her dark hair falling down her back as she practically skips into the entrance of the mall between a rush of people.
Groaning, I make my way across the other side of the street...
And wait like a fucking stalker.
TWELVE
Eden
When I madea bet to seduce a professional soccer player, I may have been out of my mind.
After I learnt about Tony’s plans for the restaurant—although not confirmed because the arsehole still hasn’t calledme back—all I saw were dollar signs flashing behind my eyelids, and I made a reckless decision.
So yesterday, I transferred my five grand into the bank account Cooper gave me, then I left the house for most of the day, unable to face Emerson after betraying him. I couldn’t face him when I got home either, so I bolted to my room and stayed there all night.
I prayed the boys would assume I was dealing with all the shit my life has thrown at me over the last week and leave me alone.
And they did... leave me alone, that is.
When I woke up this morning, I convinced myself to pull it together and not let the guilt of what I’m doing eat at me. As much as my dad wouldn’t approve of what I’ve gotten myself into, I am doing it for him.
After all, he is the reason I’m in this mess to begin with.
He wasn’t the best at keeping his money in his pocket and ended up with a sizeable gambling debt. When he got sick, Tony—his best friend and my current boss—offered to buy the restaurant to pay off his debts and help pay for his cancer treatment.
At first, Dad refused, saying the restaurant belonged to me—something we’d dreamed about for years—so Tony made him a deal. If I could pay back the money, he’d hand the restaurant back over.
Anyway, Dad eventually agreed—out of his mind on chemo drugs and pain meds—and signed on the metaphorical dotted line.
So far, I’ve waited tables for the last four years. Not once has Tony let me into the kitchen—the place I want to be the most.
I guess that’s what I get for taking someone’s word, rather than having a legal contract. Words can be taken back, so to speak, and promises broken.
That’s why I can’t think about the repercussions of hurting Emerson. If I do, I won’t follow through with my plan—the one I only concocted this morning as I sat at the dining table staring in awe at him while he shovelled four pieces of peanut butter toast, three poached eggs, and a fruit salad into his mouth as though it was nothing.
It’s not like I can show up in his room naked and expect him to jump me. No-one has ever seen me without a shirt on before, and that’s not about to change.
That’s when an idea emerged; I could use his affinity for food to my advantage.
He loves to eat and what’s that saying? The best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.
Plus, that kitchen—the one Will and Emerson barely use—is just begging for me to get it dirty. So when the boys left for the day, I called an Uber, which dropped me off at the mall five minutes ago.
My first stop was the butcher, and after picking the three best looking cuts of eye fillet, I head to the small farmer’s market set up in the main street to grab the rest of the ingredients for tonight.
Once I have everything I need to feed two grown-arse men, I head back out to the main street to wait for the bus—instead of an Uber—to take me home. After all, I did just spend one hundred dollars on three pieces of meat, and I’m still not sure if I’ll even have a job after the next eight weeks.
As I make my way to the bus stop about ten metres from the mall entrance, I pull my phone out to send a text to Emerson.
Me: I have a surprise for you!
