UNEDITED
Gemma Alder is used to being the unlucky one in the Alder family: from a nasty rumour about her back in high school to inexplicable mishaps, she seems to be the comical target for unfortunate situations. But if there's one thing she's good...
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Gemma
It's not even noon yet and already my day has gone to shit. Half an hour ago, I received a message from Morgane, telling me that the man I'm meeting up with for a consultation later today needed to switch our meeting time due to schedule errors – whatever the hell that means. At that point, I had just gotten home from my recent spin class, dripping with sweat and smelling like a rancid gym sock. But do you want to know the worst part? The time has been switched from one to eleven, giving me only twenty minutes to fix myself up and get on the road.
Twenty minutes is definitely not enough time for me to shower, so I have to make do with the time I have, blow-drying my hair and tying it into a messy bun. I'm not necessarily worried about my hair – that will be covered by whichever wig I choose to wear today. What I am worried about is my smell. Spin class was rugged this morning, complete with using weights and doing several hill-climbs. My body was screaming in pleasurable soreness as buckets of sweat dripped from my body, and the last thing I want to do is show up smelling the way I do. Which is why, rather than showering, I douse myself with a fresh cucumber-mint-scented perfume and thickly apply my deodorant before I dash out of the house, cursing Morgane for accepting this sudden change without asking me first.
The woman is going to get an earful from me when this is over.
The drive to Raw and Real, a plant-based café in the southern area of Saanich, is only fifteen minutes from my small two-bedroom, two-bathroom house.
While I've been stuck in anticipation about yelling at Morgane all morning, I certainly didn't consider the possibility that she would call me the moment I parked and cut the engine in the crowded parking lot of Raw and Real.
"Morgane," I growl, shoving my keys in my pocket as I step out of the car. "I'm going to murder you. Why didn't you ask me before confirming? I'm a freaking disaster!"
Morgane, who sounds like she's enjoying a spoonful of peanut butter at the moment, makes a clicking sound with her tongue. "Gemma, I have always told you that my big heart is my biggest weakness. Did you read the message I forwarded to you, explaining why he needed to alter the schedule?"
I sling my purse over my shoulder, slamming the door and locking the car. The weather is typical for Vancouver Island: foggy and damp, with the probability of it raining becoming likelier and likelier by the second. "You know my schedule better than anyone," I reply through gritted teeth.
There's some weird sticky-sounding noise on the other line before Morgane says, "Yes, but he needs to be able to attend his little sister's soccer game. I couldn't say no to that. Talk about a swoon moment. If he's as dreamy as his writing makes him sound, you're in for a treat, Gem."
I suppress an eye roll. I will never give my heart to a man. The last time I wanted to do that, the boy I had a crush on screwed me over and turned the entire student population against me.
