by SC Alban
“Now, your berry tart, that looks exquisite. Tell me, Mr. Michaels, how were you able to achieve such a soft, yet flaky crust?”
My heart pounded as I shifted my gaze to Jay. Surely after this answer, Ms. O’Dowd would know exactly how one-sided this project was.
“The trick is to make sure you take the time to sift the flour,” he said confidently without missing a beat.
My jaw nearly hit the floor. How in the—huh? Where did that come from? Had he actually paid attention?
“Yes, very good. Simple, yet elegant. A well-executed classic. Nicely done.”
“Thank you, Ms. O.” Jay’s voice dripped with sugar as he became the model student. “We couldn’t have done it without all those helpful lectures. You know, my cooking skills have dramatically improved this semester. In fact, I was just mentioning to Principal Higgins I can’t believe how lucky he is to have such a strong home economics teacher on his staff when other schools are cutting their programs.”
My stomach heaved, and a little vomit threatened the back of my mouth. Really? Dial it back, dude.
Ms. O’Dowd’s face practically glowed. My face must’ve revealed my true feelings, because when she turned towards me, the smile disappeared.
“Take note, Ms. Cooper,” she said tightly. “Pleasantry is the cornerstone of success. You’re quite lucky to be partnered up with such a polite young man.” Barf.
She scurried off to the next kitchen.
“You see,” Jay said as he leaned over the counter towards me, “despite your opinion of me, I’m not that bad. I mean, if O’Dowd likes me…” He smiled, his eyebrows raised in anticipation of my response.
“Whatever,” I mumbled. “Just as long as we score well on the final.”
His expression fell.
“What’s with your attitude?” he asked. “Yeah okay, I was a little late and that sucked. But I apologized. Would it kill you to say something nice for a change? You can’t be as big a bitch as most people say you are.”
This time, my jaw did hit the floor.
As soon as he saw my face, he sucked in a breath and bit his lip, but there was no taking it back.
“I didn’t mean it like—”
“Yes, you did,” I interrupted. “You don’t even know anything about me, but you’re willing to listen to other people’s opinions. What? Can’t form any of your own?”
The venom lashed out of my mouth.
“I would never say that about you. But people around here…you know how it is. They just don’t understand why you stay to yourself. I mean, we all know why you did at first, but still, it’s been five years. It puts them off, you know?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry my mother’s death has inconvenienced everyone.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But it’s what you said.”
He scrubbed his face with his hands. “All I’m saying is that if you just didn’t keep to yourself so much, maybe didn’t act so judgey, if you’d just tried to be a bit more like everyone else, there’d be no reason for people to rag on you. Trust me, I know.”
What did that mean? How in the hell would he know? Everyone liked him. Apparently, it was me people had a problem with. Just another reason why I couldn’t wait to leave. I was tired of all the gossip. Tired of pretending everything was all right, putting up a front every single day solely for everyone else’s benefit. I was tired of it all. Defeat pressed in on me and stole my momentum like wind from a kite.
“Whatever, it’s not like I care that people are talking about me. What do they know anyway?”
“Nothing,” he said softly. “I’ll bet you they know nothing whatsoever about who you really are now. I mean, we all knew you before. But this Megan?” He shrugged. “You haven’t exactly made it easy for them, for any of us, to get close. It wouldn’t hurt to come hang out once in a while.”
I listened and acknowledged the truth in his words. Crap. Why did he have to be right? I hadn’t allowed people to become close to me. But on the other hand, I didn’t want them to. I intentionally held them at a distance. It was a choice. A choice I’d made when I decided love could shove it. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the confusion. What the hell was wrong with me? Since when did taking advice from Jay Michaels become a thing? I swallowed and threw up my defenses.
“Thanks for the suggestion, but I’ll pass. I’m done here, and I don’t plan on hanging around,” I replied, feeling my way back to my old, distant self. He nodded but didn’t respond.
We spent the next few minutes following the clean-up procedure laminated on the cabinet of each kitchenette in amicable quiet. When the bell finally rang, Ms. O’Dowd clapped her hands.
“Goodbye, class. Have a wonderful winter break and remember, the joy of the holiday season is found in…”
Again, she waited for us to chime in.
“The joy of cooking,” we grumbled.
She smiled broadly. “Class dismissed.”
Jay untied his apron and shot it into the laundry bin like a basketball through a hoop. He unrolled his sleeves and slid back into his jacket, zipping it up. I awkwardly untied the massive knot that had somehow formed in my giant apron strings. Yanking it off my body with a sharp tug, I walked over and threw it in the bin.
“Goodbye, you hideous thing.” A wave of relief flooded over me. I would never need to wear it again. One by one, students deposited their aprons and other linens into the bin.
“Well, Megan, it’s been fun,” Jay said as he passed me. “Catch ya on the flip side.”
He patted me on the arm and headed out, but not before turning around once more.
“Oh, and nice jeans.”
With my mouth gaping open, I stared after him as he caught up with Preston Price and Vince Saunders, two other Mountain Valley High celebrities.
“Nice jeans,” I repeated to myself as I collected my backpack and headed to the office to take care of some last-minute business. Although cooking with Jay provided as much enjoyment as eating nails, it appeared we would pass the final. Thank you, Universe. If I had to spend one more minute at this high school, I’d seriously lose my mind. Although, after what happened with Amadeo earlier, I was almost about to. Man, that cupid really knew how to push my buttons.
I walked out of the classroom for the last time, stealing a parting glance at myself in the stainless-steel fridge. My lips curved up. Damn, my butt did look good.
Chapter Eight
“Would you get up already?”
“No,” I moaned. “I don’t wanna get up.”
“Well, unfortunately you don’t have a choice. We have a deal. Either you get your backside out of that bed, or I’ll make your life miserable.”
I snapped open one eye and glared at Amadeo. “You’re already making my life miserable,” I grunted. “It’s the first day of vacation. Can’t I sleep in just a little longer?”
“Come on, Megan,” he replied in a too-chipper voice. “Daylight’s burning. Those lovebirds won’t match themselves. You know, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that it’s because of your recklessness that—”
“Okay, okay, I’m up,” I said, throwing the blankets off. Anything to get him to be quiet.
“Great,” he said, clapping his hands. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
“Wait!” I cried. “My dad’s—”
“Already left for the day.”
I furrowed my eyebrows. “Of course he did. Fine. I’ll meet you in the barn.”
Twenty minutes later, I pushed the heavy door open and peeped inside. Amadeo was nowhere to be found. As I stood there wondering where he could have run off to, a popping noise resounded from behind me.
“Oh my God!” I clasped my hand over my heart. “Would you please not do that? You scared the crap out of me.”
“Boy, you’re jumpy this morning.” He paused. “So, are you ready?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, I hope you know first aid.”
“Huh?”
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“’Cause you’re about to be shooting arrows through some hearts.” He bent over laughing.
I closed my eyes. Great. Not only was he bossy, but apparently, he thought he was a stand-up comedian.
“Please don’t.”
“You gotta learn to lighten up,” he said. “Have a little fun.”
“I’ve already said I’d help you,” I replied. “No need to torture me with all your love ick.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you did agree,” he said. “I really didn’t want to have to tell you you were bound by our handshake, anyway. Awkward.”
“But,” I sputtered. “What was all that talk about not feeling obligated?”
He waved his hand. “You’re always stuck on details, aren’t you? All that doesn’t matter. You’ve agreed to help me, right?”
I nodded.
“Well, then how about we just concentrate on that.”
A deep rumble echoed throughout the barn. Grabbing his stomach, he added, “You wouldn’t know where a strapping, young cupid could scrounge up something to eat, would you? I’m famished. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
“You eat?” I asked.
Amadeo rolled his eyes.
“Of course I eat. Geez, Megan, I hope you’re a little more astute after you’ve had your breakfast.”
“Sorry,” I grumbled. “I guess I just thought since you’re immortal, you really don’t need to eat.”
“Um, were you not listening when I told you about the toaster? Why would I need a toaster if I didn’t eat? Come on, Megan. You’ve got to be a bit quicker than that.”
“Well, yeah, but I guess I…never mind. Come on, there’s food in the house.” Just ten minutes into our morning, and I already sensed a migraine coming on.
We walked across the yard to the side door leading to the mudroom. My footsteps crunched as they trod over the cold, hard ground. I entered the enclosed space and immediately felt the warmth of the house. Two steps in, I stopped and turned. Amadeo was still standing on the porch steps.
“What?” I said. “You waiting for a handwritten invitation or something?”
“For the love of—no, I’m not waiting for an invitation. I’m a cupid, not a vampire. Geez. I was just trying to be polite.”
“Polite? Since when are you—wait, there’re vampires?”
“Venus above. That’s what you’re going to focus on? Try to rein it in, Megan.” He pushed past me through the door and headed into the house. “It may surprise you, being the hip dude you see before you, but I’m somewhat of an old-fashioned guy. Manners are of utmost importance.”
“Of course, manners, how could I have suspected anything else,” I muttered as I quickly followed him into the kitchen where he was already digging through the refrigerator for something to eat. Gotta love those manners.
“Umm, I’m not sure what you like,” I began. “But help yourself to anything you find.”
He emerged with a casserole dish of leftover chicken and rice, two bread rolls, a jar of pickles, two avocados, a slice of pizza, and a carton of chocolate milk piled high in his arms.
“Would you mind grabbing the butter and jam, please,” he said through the barbeque chicken leg lodged between his teeth.
“Umm, sure,” I said as he carried his load to the table.
In addition to the butter and jam, I placed a plate, napkin, and utensils in front of him. I cringed as he set about snarfing down the strangest breakfast I could’ve ever imagined.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” he asked between mouthfuls. “You know, you’re really going to need something in you. It’s never a good idea to go marking on an empty stomach.”
“Are you ever going to tell me who the mark is,” I asked as I set about putting together my breakfast of a bagel with hummus and a soy chai tea latte. “Now that I’m committed to assisting you, don’t you think I should know?”
His pace slowed a bit, his initial hunger satiated with the first round of food. Leaning back in his chair, his eyes gave me a full once-over. Taking out the little book from his coat pocket, he flipped directly to a dog-eared page near the back.
“Our first mark is a woman named Kristen O’Dowd,” he said in an overly professional tone. My mouth dropped open in astonishment.
“Ms. O’Dowd?”
“Yes.”
“Kristen O’Dowd?”
“Yes.”
“The same Kristen O’Dowd who works at Mountain Valley High as a home economics teacher? That Kristen O’Dowd?” I asked incredulously. “The one whose class you crashed?”
“Oh, for Aphrodite’s apples, yes. Megan, you’re really starting to worry me with your nonsense. If you insist on asking ridiculous questions, we’ll never complete this list.” He tucked the book away securely in the inside pocket of his coat before digging into phase two of his massive meal, which consisted of three more slices of left-over pizza and some orange juice straight out of the jug.
“I just can’t believe Ms. O’Dowd is the first mark,” I repeated.
“I don’t know why,” Amadeo said. “Everyone on Earth deserves a chance at love.”
“But I still can’t believe it,” I said, amused. “Ms. O’Dowd. Crazy.”
He quickly wrapped up his breakfast and with a magical wave of his wrist, cleared away his mess to the sink, filled the kettle with water, and got it started on the stove.
“You don’t mind if I put some tea on, do you?” he asked as the water began to boil. I shook my head and continued munching my bagel, mulling over the new information. I glanced at the clock. It was just before eight. We had loads of time to go over the game plan to snag my former home economics teacher a match.
“You know, come to think of it, she is a good teacher—a bit on the old-school side, but always fair. She’d probably make a good match…for someone. And she is one heck of a cook.”
“That’s all well and good, a fine start, but have you any idea of who would make a good match for her? Is there anyone you know of who she likes? Think. Is there anyone who has expressed affection toward her? Any leads that could head us in the right direction?”
I sat there chewing on my bagel and thought. Then it hit me. Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of it earlier?
“Yes, I do know of someone,” I managed to say with half a bagel shoved in my mouth.
Amadeo blanched, his eyes widening as a look of disgust painted his face.
“Please hold that thought until you finish.” He motioned for me to swallow before I continued. When I finally got the last bit down, the words flew out of my mouth.
“Principal Higgins! She’s got a massive crush on Principal Higgins,” I declared triumphantly. “And Principal Higgins seems to have good thoughts towards her, and he isn’t married, so that’ll work, right?”
“Hmm. It has potential, but I won’t be sure until both of them are together…in person. Only then will I know if this is a match worth pursuing.”
Feeling a bit deflated, I shook my head and finished the rest of my breakfast in silence. Amadeo had some tea while I cleaned up. After his feast, there were several more dishes to be washed, and it took longer than usual for me to complete the chore. I twisted my mouth at the extra work he’d left behind. Couldn’t he use his magic for dishwashing, or was that against the rules? I held my tongue as I continued cleaning up. Once the kitchen was back in order, we headed out to the barn. Cosmo was in his stall waiting for me.
“Hey, boy,” I said as I approached him. I led him out and tied him up to the grooming post. After taking great care to brush him until his coat was shining, I mucked his stall and gave him fresh hay.
“I’m sorry, buddy,” I said to him as I turned to leave. “I’ll spend more time with you soon, I promise.”
I slid the barn door closed as Amadeo and I headed out to my trusty Ranchero.
“Let’s go,” I said as I slid into the driver’s seat. Amadeo stood next to the passenger side of the car, but didn’t get in.
&nbs
p; “What’s the hold up? I thought we were in a hurry?”
“Nothing. Just thinking,” he said, snapping out of his thoughts. He took a deep breath before grabbing the handle and yanking the door open. Once seated, he buckled his seatbelt and snapped it in place, tugging on it a few times to make sure it was secured.
“Now, don’t be afraid to take it slow,” he chided. “We’re on a timeline, but it won’t do anyone any good if you kill yourself, and severely injure me…even more. Remember, I’ve seen how you drive.” He shivered.
“Oh my God,” I exclaimed. “I’ve already said I’m sorry like a billion times. For the last time, the road was icy. Plus, I wasn’t expecting a four-and-a-half-foot tall cupid to randomly dart out into the road.”
“I am five foot and one-half inch, thank you very much,” he retorted. “And you should have been driving more defensively, not spacing out thinking of who knows what.”
I pursed my lips and forced myself to remain quiet. After all, I had mowed him down.
I started the ignition and backed out of the drive. The trip to town took longer than usual. Thanks to Amadeo’s gasps of terror and white-knuckle grip on the dash each time I took a curve, I had to slow to ten miles below the speed limit. By the time we motored into the main square, bustling shoppers were already crowding the area. Now that school was out for winter break, it was more than likely Ms. O’Dowd would be among them.
One of the worst things about living in a town with a small population was the very limited entertainment choices. Unless you wanted to venture out an additional forty-five minutes in not-so-friendly weather all the way to Leighton Heights, downtown was the hub of socialization, serving as an extension of the high school and overall community gathering place.
Today, however, that limitation seemed more like a perk. I was optimistic that our chances of finding my ex-teacher were a solid seventy-thirty. She’d mentioned in class, on more than one occasion, that she often spent her free time at her favorite store, The Country Home, checking out the latest kitchen gadgets and home goods.
