Being grateful was hard.
I'd spent the past few days trying to practice gratitude like Jake had taught me, but things in my life kept getting worse and worse. My head still hurt every now and then; the bruises on my face made me look ridiculous, which forced me to spend extra time in the morning applying makeup; and I still couldn't sleep well at night, which led me to check TweetyGram more often than usual.
The worst part was the news of my accident had spread like wildfire in the office, and now I was a laughingstock among my colleagues.
As I dumped two teaspoons of sugar into my cup of coffee, two women walked into the break room and immediately noticed me.
"Hey, is that the girl who got into that silly accident at Sweat Paradise?" the willowy brunette whispered to her friend.
"Uh-huh," the curvy blonde replied, casting a condescending glance my way. "I can't believe anyone's stupid enough to fall off a treadmill. What an amateur."
I'd like to see you dancing on a treadmill. I wanted to retort, but I kept my mouth shut and took my coffee with me back to my desk.
I flopped onto the chair behind my desk and glanced around me. While my fellow interns were busy with their own tasks, I'd finished fact-checking all the articles Mr. Grant had assigned me, which wasn't many to begin with.
Yawning, I picked up my phone and checked Louise's TweetyGram.
Jake had edited the best take I had of me dancing on the treadmill and posted it on Louise's TweetyGram. Thanks to the video, my alter ego had gone viral. Within only a few days, the video had been watched by over 100,000 people and Louise now had 69,869 followers.
Nevertheless, the wolf wasn't one of them.
Maybe I should just find another topic to write about—
"Mr. Summers," Mr. Grant said, approaching Wyatt's desk. "There's been a robbery at Donut Ninjas on Fifth Street. You're coming with me."
"Yes, sir," Wyatt answered, standing up.
I stretched my neck up and bit my lower lip, eagerly waiting for my name to be called. But Mr. Grant turned around and walked back toward his office.
As I slumped in my seat, the middle-aged man suddenly spun around to face me. "Miss Darling."
"Yes?" I sat up straight.
"Would you mind fact-checking the Beverly Hills Car Thief article? I need it done by the end of the day."
Although I managed to keep my composure, a wave of disappointment crashed over me. It baffled me why Mr. Grant would ask me to do Wyatt's job instead of taking me, who had finished all of the given assignments, with him to the crime scene. But I supposed I shouldn't have been surprised. Wyatt was an excellent reporter, and it was clear Mr. Grant favored him over me, especially after I'd failed to show up for the Jim Pansy interview.
"Sir," Wyatt interrupted, "I could stay and finish my—"
"It's fine. I'll do it," I said with a tight smile.
"Oh, okay." Guilt etched across Wyatt's face as he handed over the article to me along with all his notes. "I'm truly sorry about this."
"Don't worry about it," I reassured him. "My ankle still hurts anyway, so it's best for me to stay in the office."
"Thanks, Linds."
As Wyatt left the room with Mr. Grant, I heaved out a determined breath. Right now, Wyatt might be the favorite for the full-time staff writer position. But that didn't mean I was out of the race yet. If I did a good enough job, I might still have a chance to be hired along with him.
Thanks to Wyatt's notes, I was able to finish fact-checking the Beverly Hills Car Thief article on time. By 5.15 p.m., I was on my way to the grocery store to buy some eggs and vegetables for dinner.
No, I couldn't afford chicken or any other meat anymore. At least not until another three months or so.
I was ten minutes away from the grocery store when the smell of something burning wafted through the air.
"What—"
Pop! I flinched as my car's engine started making a series of loud popping and thumping noises. Panic surged through me when I saw steam billowing from under the hood.
"No, no, no . . ."
My car's temperature gauge had been broken for a while now, but it was more than likely the engine was overheating. I pulled over to the side of the road, turned off the engine, and thumped my head against the steering wheel.
Today cannot get any worse.
I didn't know much about cars, so I had no choice but to call roadside assistance. While I waited for the tow truck, I pulled my phone out of my bag.
There was a new notification from TweetyGram:
Malibu, 90265 just shared a photo
I leaned back in my seat and clicked the notification to view the post. The carousel post consisted of a photo of Nat smiling sweetly in a simple sundress; a photo of Eleanor Clarke on stage, nailing the rock-chic look; a photo of Charity dressed in 80s style matching orange plaid blazer and mini skirt; and three more photos of the Malibu, 90265 cast.
Which Malibu, 90265 character are you?
Hit the link in the bio to take the quiz and share your result in the comment below!
Having nothing better to do, I tapped on the link and took the quiz. The quiz asked me basic questions such as my favorite color, food, animal, and fashion preference. Surprisingly, I got Scarlett Starling—daring, mischievous, and curious.
I'd never watched the show before, but based on this quiz, I'd say Scarlett Starling was nothing like sweet Poppy Kentucky.
After finishing the quiz, I went back to the comment section. But instead of sharing my real result, I commented:
I GOT TORI!!!! I'm soooo happy rn!! She's my favorite character EVER and my friends always say I'm just like her so it's no surprise! @NatalieWinters is the BEST!!! #TeamTori4Eva
I cringed a little as my fingers moved across the keyboard, but I pressed the post button regardless. At this point, I was running out of ideas. If this couldn't gain the wolf's attention, I didn't know what would.
A glance at the clock told me I still had about ten minutes before the roadside assistance arrived. Bored, I logged in to my personal TweetyGram account.
The first thing that appeared on my news feed was a post by Almond. It was a photo of a novel titled The Punching Booth.
One of my favorite books I've read so far this year! What a perfect summer read!
Final rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Almond included a thorough review of the book, which told the story of three 16-year-olds stuck in a love triangle after meeting in an underground fight club called the Punching Booth.
The story was cliché, absurd, and inappropriate for teenagers—I meant, come on. An underground fight club for teenagers? It was setting a terrible example for the readers. I couldn't get my head wrapped around why Almond gave the book five stars. That was why, although I usually enjoyed her book reviews and rewarded her with a like on her post, I scrolled past this one without tapping the heart button.
The next few posts were cute photos of animals, including one of Princess Tortie having a play date with an energetic, equally adorable orange cat. The pictures put a smile on my face, but it vanished when I heard the sky rumbling.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," I groaned.
The rain started to fall. A few seconds after, lightning tore the sky in two, followed by the angry roar of thunder.
"A thunderstorm in the middle of a heatwave. Perfect. Just perfect."
As I suspected, the roadside assistance arrived longer than they'd estimated because of the heavy rain. The mechanic checked out my car's cooling system and determined that the radiator needed to be replaced.
Things really couldn't get any worse.
Or so I thought.
Suppressing the urge to scream out curses, I rode with the tow truck driver to my usual repair shop. After I dropped off the car at the shop, I took a cab to the grocery store. By the time I finished grocery shopping, the rain had finally stopped.
The evening wind cooled my skin as I walked back home, careful not to step in puddles. The weather was nice compared to the past few weeks. If it stayed like this, I might not have to wake up drenched in sweat tomorrow.
Well, I guess it's true what people say. Every cloud has—
A silver Ferrari sped through a pond-sized puddle a few feet away beside me, spraying me with ice-cold water. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my lips together, but a trickle of water slipped into my mouth.
Rage and frustration burned inside me as I wiped my face with the back of my hand. Screaming out curses, I took off my right shoe and threw it at the speeding Ferrari, who didn't even bother to slow down and looked back.
I always had a good aim, but the car was too far away.
I missed by a long shot.
It was official. This was the worst—well, the second-worst day in my entire life.
"Ugh!" I stomped my left foot on the ground before hopping to the middle of the quiet street to pick up my shoe.
The cold water soaking my body made me shiver all the way home. At this point, I'd be lucky if I didn't catch pneumonia. The walk home only took about ten minutes, but it felt like ten hours. Stopping in front of my apartment door, I tried to open the front pocket of my bag where I kept my key. But, as if things weren't bad enough, the zipper was stuck.
Curses poured out of my mouth like a thunderstorm. As my voice bounced off the walls, Jake opened the door of his apartment and peeked into the hallway.
"What?" I snarled.
He scanned me from head to toe, curiosity dancing in his eyes. "Are you okay?"
"Do I look like I'm okay?"
He flattened his mouth and held up both hands.
Guilt jabbed at me. "Sorry. Just having a terrible day."
"Yeah. I can see that," he replied with a tight smile.
Gritting my teeth, I yanked my bag's front zipper open. I fished my key out of my bag and tried to unlock my door. But my hand was shaking, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get the key into the lock.
Just as I was about to explode, Jake stepped out of his apartment and offered, "Let me help you with that."
I'd always found it hard to accept help, but this time, I was too tired to refuse assistance.
"Thanks." I let him take the key from my hand. As he opened the door for me, I sighed, "This gratitude thing isn't working."
He offered me a comforting smile. "It can be hard, I know, especially when you've just had a bad day. But you have to keep on trying. You know what they say. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."
"How am I supposed to make a lemonade out of . . . this?" My voice brimmed with frustration as I gestured at my drenched grocery bag. "And this is nothing compared to everything else that has happened to me over the past few days. I mean, my career is basically over before it even starts, I'm letting my best friend and tons of Malibu fans down because no matter what I do I can't seem to get the wolf's attention, and I'm—"
The loud growl of my stomach bounced along the wall. The heat of embarrassment rushed up my neck and burned my cheeks.
I expected Jake to laugh at me, but he didn't. Instead, he offered, "I have some leftover spaghetti if you want."
The mention of free food perked up my mood.
"One second." I excused myself to take a shower and change into fresh clothes. When I got out of the bathroom, I was greeted by the delectable aroma of Bolognese sauce. "Hmm." I inhaled a deep breath, a smile working its way across my face. "That smells nice."
"It tastes even better." He took the plate of spaghetti out of the microwave and set it on the kitchen island. As I hopped onto the stool in front of it, he said, "Go ahead. Knock yourself out."
He didn't have to tell me twice about it. Without wasting any time, I dived into the meal like a starved lioness. It was one of the tastiest spaghetti Bolognese I'd tasted in a while. Within minutes, the plate was scraped clean and my stomach was full.
"Wow. You really are a good cook." I sat back and patted my stomach. "You should open up a restaurant. Or, by any chance, are you looking for a new job? Bree could use a hand figuring out new menus for Lovejoy's."
He chuckled. "I'm good. Thanks." When I finished gulping down a glass of water, he stood up. "Okay. Let's go."
"Go where?"
"Out."
I furrowed my brow. "Are you kicking me out of my own apartment?"
He snorted a laugh. "No, I mean, let's go out. Like, together."
"Out where?"
"Just . . . out. You know, out of the apartment. Do something fun in the city."
Whoa. Is he asking me out on a date?
My heart picked up its pace as a strange rush of excitement surged through me. I pinched myself to check if I was dreaming—I wasn't.
Blinking rapidly, I opened and closed my mouth a few times. Calm down, Lindsey. He's just trying to cheer you up. It's just a friend date.
A friend date.
I had no idea why, but disappointment pricked my chest at that.
"I don't know. I just had the worst day of my entire life. Well, the second-worst day of my entire life. I don't want to infect you with my bad luck," I joked.
He pressed his lips together to hold back his laughter. "Come on, Linds. It's Friday night. You shouldn't spend your Friday night alone. Not when you've just had the second-worst day of your life."
He had a point. If I stayed at home the rest of the night, I doubted I would be able to sleep. I probably would end up mindlessly scrolling through TweetyGram as usual. The last thing I needed was to see photos of my friends and colleagues enjoying #SummerRain or Sera's obligatory TGIF posts featuring her too-good-to-be-true boyfriend while I was stuck at home alone.
"I promise," Jake reassured, "Nothing bad will happen."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," I warned.
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Come on. It'll be fun."
There was something in his eyes that made me reconsider his offer. Oh, well.
"Alright. Let's go."
Author's Note:
So, Lindsey and Jake are going on a (friend?) date! Are you excited about it?
As always, if you enjoy this chapter, please vote and/or leave comments. Thanks for reading! :)