Chapter 14 #2
The next aisle is the frozen foods section, and for a moment I seize up in front of the glass doors, vision blurred by the rows of identical burrito boxes.
I made it through last night with Eden without a single panic attack…
what’s one more challenge in the grand scheme?
I can do this. I am doing this. Right now.
I text Eden immediately, because I know she’ll freak out with me in the best way.
You
Something wild just happened! Will update after groceries. <3
Eden
Can’t wait. <3
By the time I unload everything at home and arrange the snacks into appropriately Eden-themed sections of my pantry my hands have stopped vibrating.
I’m still full of adrenaline but it’s the productive kind, not the body going into shock after a bad trauma kind.
I feel like I could take on the world. I feel assured, like my life isn’t just a series of disasters strung together by brief moments of calm.
There might actually be a plan shaping up.
It took me longer than expected to clean and tidy the house after my shopping trip. Which is why Jenna is waiting at the coffee shop, already halfway through a piece of pie and a large iced latte when I finally arrive.
“Sloane!” she waves me over, and I slide into the seat across from her in such a rush that I nearly knocking the table with my knee. She eyes me closely. “You look suspiciously chipper for someone who’s been ghosting me all week. Spill.”
I snort. “Me ghosting, you! Jenna, you’ve been MIA.”
Her blush tells me everything I need to know. “Pfft, whatever. Spill the reason for your good mood, and if you say it’s Eden and her lady parts I’m walking out.”
I laugh loudly, causing a few customers to look over at us. “Eden has lovely lady bits.”
Jenna screws up her face and goes to stand from the table. I cackle louder and grab her arm, dragging her butt back to the seat. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. I’ll refrain from talking about your sister’s bits.”
She grunts, but I see the smile. “Fine. So, what’s with the energy radiating off you right now?”
God, everyone in my life is so damn invested. I love it.
“I may have accidentally landed myself a gig as Holcroft’s new team physical therapist. Mr. Porter—sorry, Daniel—cornered me in the produce section and basically strong-armed me into applying.”
Jenna’s eyebrows disappear under her bangs, and for a second, she just stares at me, mouth open. “You’re joking.”
“Not even a little,” I say, unable to suppress my smile. “He wants to fast-track me for the football season and possibly track and field too. I’d be contracting, but it’s—”
“A resume-builder. And probably a money-maker.” She leans forward, lowering her voice. “Is it weird calling Mr. Porter Daniel?”
“Extremely,” I reply. “Imagine how Eden will feel, she called him Mr. Asshat for three years.”
Jenna snorts. “She was such a diva. Anyway, does this mean you’ll have to, what, relive all your mortifying high school moments on a daily basis?”
“I think it means I’ll get paid to tape up other people’s ankles and occasionally give motivational speeches about perseverance in the face of adversity. Which, as you know, is my specialty.” I wink.
We both burst out laughing, and for a split second I’m eighteen again, trading inside jokes with Jenna in her bedroom while Eden pouted because she had to share me with her little sister, even though she secretly loved how close Jenna and I were.
“So, what’s next?” she says, sobering up after a moment. “You gonna tell Eden? Do I get to come to the celebratory dinner?”
“Tell Eden? She was my first call! And dinner is absolutely happening. But first, I have to plan The Date. Like, capital-T capital-D.”
Jenna grins, mischievous. “Do I smell a spreadsheet?”
I tap my nose. “You know me too well.”
We order muffins, split them in a show of solidarity, and gossip for the better part of an hour. She still doesn’t tell me where the hell she’s been for the past two weeks. I’ll get it out of her eventually.
Later that evening, after I’ve taken inventory of my closet and reorganized the pile of clothes into a neater pile of clothes, I pick the nicest dress I can find.
The restaurant research is proving more difficult than I anticipated.
How do people choose between them? Each establishment has a mixed bag of Yelp reviews.
If I’d have had longer, I could’ve done a more in-depth analysis to make sure I pick the best one.
I sit on my bed with my laptop with seven tabs open, three pertaining to The Date, three pertaining to how to set up my business, and one tab that has taken me down a rabbit hole of lesbian dating flashmobs.
At least I’ve managed to narrow my options down.
I’m pretty sure I’ve picked the restaurant and I’ve got ninety percent of what they say I should do starting my business.
Before finalizing my pick, though, I should probably ask Eden out on a date, officially.
You
Hey. Is it weird that I want to take you on an Official Date? Like, pick you up at 7 p.m., wear real shoes, exclusively eat food I can’t pronounce, and be on my best behavior? I mean, I can probably guarantee the first two things. The last one…questionable.
I’ve rambled because I’m nervous. A simple “Would you like to go on a date with me this Friday?” would have sufficed.
Eden
That sounds…amazing? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes. BYOB: bring your own best behaviour x
I stare at the screen, grinning like an idiot.