“Uh, carpet is fine.”
She nods and we sit down together. “Sorry about the lack of furniture. I just don’t know how long I’ll stick around. Furniture seems so… permanent.”
I raise my eyebrows and dig my fork into the cheesy eggs Freya has made. They look a little watery, but otherwise edible.
“Has California really made such a bad impression on you?”
“This is more my problem,” she says. “I left home because I needed a fresh start, but I’m not sure I put a lot of thought into where I was going. L.A. was just the first place that popped into my head.”
“I see.”
“How is it?” Freya asks as I chew.
I swallow the bland ball of food in my mouth. “Good.”
She giggles. “You’re a bad liar.”
“It’s not bad,” I chuckle. “Maybe a little more salt next time.”
“Damn it. I always forget salt.”
“I take it you don’t cook too much?”
She crinkles her nose, and I take note of how attractive she is. Her amber-blue eyes are striking, especially against her dark hair.
“Not really,” she admits. “Other people always did the cooking. So I guess I never learned.”
“Well, you will now. Or just live off Chinese takeout. No judgment either way.”
She gives me a grateful smile. “You’re really nice. Different than all the other people I’ve met in L.A.”
“Probably because I’m not a native. I moved here with my parents when I was seventeen. My dad retired. He wanted a change of pace.”
“Was it a hard move for you?”
“A little, but I was only a year away from starting college anyway. So I didn’t have to stick around too long.”
Freya regards me with interest, like she’s paying rapt attention to every single word I’m saying. “How come I haven’t seen you around before?”
“Oh, well… Long story.”
“Another one?”
“You remember?”
She shrugs. “I may look like a bad drunk, but I keep my wits about me. Do I get to hear this long story or do I have to beg?”
I open my mouth to politely decline. But as I do, I realize that the thought of reliving my nightmare so soon doesn’t really scare me the way I thought it would.
As I’ve learned, there are way scarier things in life than a cheating fiancé and a bitch of a best friend.
“So, three days ago, I was supposed to get married.”
Freya’s eyes seem to hit the roof of her forehead. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Wow. Okay, so the fact that you’re sitting here on the floor with me means that things didn’t exactly work out, huh?”