Chapter 17
Cold Heat
Emily
Six years ago...
Icurled up on my bed, shivering in the chilly room. “I want Mama,” I whimpered, clutching my stomach.
“She’s at work,” my brother said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. His touch felt warm and nice. “Isn’t Capri-Sun helping?”
Capri-Sun, my trusty plush sunflower with a hot water bottle inside. Lucas spilled that sugary drink on her once and then we named her after it.
“No, my belly hurts.” I pulled the blanket tighter around me. “Can’t we turn up the heater?”
Lucas sighed. “It’s too expensive, Emi.”
“Oh...” Ever since we moved, life had changed. Mama was working a lot, but we didn’t have as much food as we used to in the fridge. And my school was so far now, I would have to switch to a closer one after the winter break. I was scared to go to a new school without my friends.
Lucas got up from the bed. “I’ll make a call.”
I could hear him talking to someone in the dining room-slash-living room-slash-Mama’s bedroom. A few minutes later he came back in and closed the door behind him.
“Did you call Papa?” I asked.
“No, not Papa. Richard.”
I widened my eyes and sat up on the bed, feeling the chilly air against my skin. “Mama’s boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” My brother ran his fingers through his hair. On the outside you’d never guess we were siblings. He got his dark eyes and dark hair from Mama, while I had Papa’s green eyes and blond hair. Still, everyone said Mama and I looked alike.
“Y-you met him?” It had been a few months since we moved into this apartment, but I still hadn’t met Richard. Mama was happy again, though, smiling a lot and wearing new silver jewelry with turquoise stones.
“Mama wanted me to meet him first to see if I approve before she introduces you to him.”
“Why?”
“I’m the older brother, it’s my job to protect you.” Lucas shrugged. “Does your stomach feel better?”
I let myself fall back on the bed. “No,” I said, but it was a fib. I had forgotten about my belly for a moment, comforted by my brother’s warmth and the thought of meeting the person who made Mama happy again.
Now...
I walked to Culinary with my head held high. Nothing could ruin this day after I’d faced the rumors with Jon.
Except maybe Breana glaring daggers at me by the lockers.
I focused on Danielle standing beside her, but she wasn’t smiling either.
“Look at you,” Breana sneered, “showing off to the people you hurt how happy you are now.”
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!”
I tilted my head and found Jon peeking through the kitchen door. “What are you doing here?” I whispered, looking around. Everyone was busy at their stations. Chef Sayle was tasting another girl’s dish.
Jon nodded toward the walk-in fridge. “I’ll meet you in there in a few.”
I nodded, a little confused, but went back to my station. Danielle was looking defeated at her semi-botched dishes. “I’m in the mood for an omelet,” she said.
“I need more eggs. You want me to bring you some?” I asked ever so casually.
“Sure,” she said, making one less person who could possibly walk in on Jon and me. I went straight to the fridge. The cold air took over my senses, and I hugged myself at the same time as arms tugged me in from behind, turning me around. His charcoal smell tickled my nose and my heart immediately calmed. Jon...
I leaned my head against his chest. “Hi.”
“Hey,” he whispered. He tilted my head up with his hands so that I was looking at him from below. His eyes glowed with despair.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He smiled, and my whole body relaxed. “I had to see you.”
He pressed his lips to mine, and I turned without breaking contact to get a better angle as our tongues courted each other. He smiled against my mouth. “I knew you’d look cute as hell in that outfit.”
I broke away and laughed. “My mom said I look like I’m straight out of Ratatouille.” I rested my head against his chin.Gosh, I’d needed this more than I wanted to admit.
Jon kissed my forehead, cheeks, nose, chin, neck... Now he was nibbling at the skin below my earlobe.
“Jon... what are you doing?”
“Tasting you, Little German,” he growled, shifting over to lick his tongue over my lips.
A pulsing between my legs—and as if he’d felt it, his hand found the top of my cooking pants and slipped inside. My eyes widened as I realized what he was doing. “We’re in a fridge,” I said, but didn’t back away.
When his fingertip grazed my opening, my eyes closed and I sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re more hot than cold though,” he said in my ear. His fingers glided further up to my clit and down again, going over my wetness like it was his mission all along. “So hot.”
He leaned into my neck again, his mouth meeting my skin. Despite the burning in my chest and the trembling between my legs, I couldn’t shake off that his desire carried a bitter aftertaste.
“Jon, is everything okay?” I asked, but he was rubbing my clit, coaxing a moan out of my throat and swallowing my question.
Jon whispered into my ear as his fingers grazed my entry. “Don’t make a sound like we practiced, okay?”
I nodded hastily, not caring anymore. I let my head fall back and closed my eyes. He didn’t only push one finger into me but three at once, like he was in a rush. I almost choked on my own spit as a wave of euphoria hit me, my eyes wide open again. I clasped my arms around him to not lose my stance. His lips worked my neck, one hand plunging into me, the other massaging my butt. I clenched my mouth as hard as I could but the moans threatened to escape my throat. I swallowed them back down.
“You’re doing so good, let me pleasure you. Let me do it right,” Jon whispered, going faster and faster with his fingers.
I gasped for breath and a squeal came out of my throat. “Oh...”
“Shh!” Jon slapped my butt, not too harsh but not soft either—
And I was ruptured. Every cell in my body bursting open, screaming to feel more than his fingers inside me. A fire spreading within me, the flames heating every part of my body.
I panted against him when my relief finished. My fists were wrapped in his shirt. “What... was that?” I gasped.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just standing in a fridge.” He smirked and kissed my cheek.
“Seriously, I hate that we have to wait for my appointment.” I had a feeling Gena had deliberately delayed it.
“Agreed. But I got to get back to class now, I only had a pass to use the bathroom.” He straightened my chef’s hat before making his way to the exit.
“Jon, wait!” I grabbed his arm, but before I could ask if everything was okay he was rushing out the door.
I rested my hands on my knees, still panting from my orgasm. In the fridge. I suddenly remembered how shocked I’d been when Breana told us about having phone sex in here. I was definitely not the same person anymore.
Yet a tightness spread in my chest. Something was wrong with Jon, something he didn’t want to talk about.
The door to the fridge opened and I spun around.
Only Danielle. I let out a sigh of relief.
“Girl, you left what, like five minutes ago?” She walked closer. “And your face is red and you’re sweaty.” She frowned, analyzing me further.
“Um, I... I was looking for...” I checked around. “A bell pepper. And an onion. Didn’t you want to make an omelet? I’m craving one too.” I quickly grabbed the ingredients and rushed past her.
Thank god she had no idea what I’d done in there just seconds ago.