Spitfire in Love

Original Edition: chapter 1 - find me

Dedicated to @CaitlinOHanlon You are my energy drink. 

Please note that this is the first draft of my story. It has  not been professionally edted, editeed, edated, edited or profreed,  prufred, proofread, pureed.

Kara Cammilla

I was about to make a huge mistake.

This wouldn't be the first time it happened, nor would it be the last. I knew all the reasons why I shouldn't—knew them so well. The pain from the consequences of what I was about to do were so familiar to me, but that didn't stop me.

I closed my eyes, counted to three under my breath, sniffed long and deep. And took a bite of the cheesiest veggie lasagna they served once a week in the campus cafeteria.

"Ungghh..." I sighed lustily, savouring the creamy, salty, addicting flavor of cheese in my mouth. The softness of the noodles. It was my reward for being such a good citizen this week, and I deserved—

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

My eyes snapped open. My best friend Tala, all four feet eleven inches of her, stood in front of me with a look of disappointment on her pretty face. She placed her books on the table, dumped her bag on the floor, pulled out a chair, and sat.

I grinned at her mischievously and took another bite.

"You're lactose intolerant," she pointed out uselessly, watching me chew in ecstasy.

I licked the warm cheese on my lips, took another bite, and moaned.

"I had a crappy morning at work today. I owe myself this cheesy perfection."

"I know you're happy now," she continued. She opened her bag and fished out a pink square Tupperware with pictures of cute cats all over it. The scent of spices filled the air as she opened her lunchbox. "But remember what happened in Professor Balajadia's seminar last time?"

I made a face. "I took the pills."

She shook her head, pulled out a folded paper towel from her bag and unwrapped it. It was her spoon and fork –she always ate using both utensils. "You know they don't work on you."

I glared at her. "You're ruining my moment here. And aren't you going to microwave that?" I pointed at her lunchbox with my fork. It was rice and Adobo today.

She gave me an embarrassed look. "And get sued? No thanks."

I rolled my eyes. To show how much I love her, I postponed my romantic date with my lasagna and grabbed her lunchbox, heading straight to the microwave. There were only three people in line. Bonus.

Tala's mom always prepared lunches for her, and it was usually rice and meat. When heated up in the microwave, the smell was so pungent it filled up the room. I remembered the first time she used the microwave in the campus cafeteria, people complained about the smell of her food clinging to their clothes, so she never did it again.

Well this was the cafeteria. Where else would she heat up her food? Under the sun? I didn't want her feeling bad. People just had to deal.

I met Tala in freshman year in college. We were in the same Accounting class. One of the girls in the class said something nasty about Tala being overweight. I reacted accordingly. Two years later, we're still friends, so it must be real. She was one of the best people on planet Earth.

When it was my turn, I put her food in the microwave for two minutes. Thirty seconds later, the overpowering smell of spices and meat filled the air. I could hear the grumbles behind me and I glared at them defiantly, daring them to say something.