Chapter One
YOU STOLE A PIZZA MY HEART
I’m soaked. Completely drenched. And not the good kind of wet either.
Not thehe’s-so-panty-melting-hot-I’m-instantly-soaking-minekind of wet.
No. I’m running in the rain. Again. And it’s a monsoon today.
My hair clings to my forehead and cheeks in sopping ringlets. Every time I brush one aside, another falls in its place. I huff, shuffling my feet to avoid a puddle.
Why is the bus station so far from my apartment?
It’s not. Not really. But it feels like it is right now.
To top it off, the weather wasgorgeousthis morning when I left the house for the first of my two shifts—one at the Gilded Bean coffee shop, the other at the Hôtel Château Blanc. Never once did I think the sky would turn into some petty drama queen with a vendetta.
So, yep. No jacket. No boots. No umbrella.
Guess that'll teach me to check my weather app next time.
Not that I’ll remember. My brain’s already crammed full of work schedules and mental reminders topleasemake Casey grab groceries before we’re stuck with ramen. Again.
Just one more year.
One more year of smiling at rich people’s ridiculous coffee orders and working my ass off.
One more year of living with a roommate in a shady part of the city.
Then, I can finally fix up Grandma’s house. My house.
I hurry across the street, dreaming of a super hot shower to thaw out my now-frozen bones. Unfortunately, the puddle off the curb is way deeper than it looks, and I sink in up to my ankle.
Cursing under my breath, I fling every evil name I can think of at Mother Nature. I glare up at the sky, hoping she feels at least alittleguilty.
She doesn’t. If anything, the rain comes down harder.
I shake myself off in an attempt to... what, exactly? It’s not like I’m going to get dry in this storm.
Someone honks, snapping me out of my mental pity party.
When I take a glance at my surroundings, I do a double-take at the neon red sign above my head: Fangerella’s Pizza.
It gleams in the darkness between buildings, its light reflected on the wet pavement, bathing everything in a warm, inviting hue—promising comfort and… deliciousness.
And somehow, through the downpour, I swear I can smell fresh pizza.
Huh.
Now why have I never noticed this pizza place here before?
I shrug, shaking the thought away. New businesses pop up all the time in the city. Besides, who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth? Hot, delicious pizza will cureallmy woes. Definitely an upgrade from the sad ramen waiting for me at home.
My stomach gives a low rumble in agreement, as if it, too, can already taste the buttery crust and ooey-gooey melty cheese.
Yep.
Pizza is absolutely better than instant noodles for thethirdnight in a row.
