Page 46 of The Dare

But I can’t help feeling a little annoyed myself. That her so-called best friend would be going out of her way to show her disapproval.

Anyone else might actually be happy for their best friend finding romance, on a train of all places.

It’s the kind of thing you’d see in a movie or read about in a book.

Natasha’s happy to order for us both, with my only input being the quantity of food needed once the waiter arrives.

I didn’t eat much last night at dinner, and I need to refuel the tank big time.

I’m getting a little attitude from our waiter too, and then I remember he’s the same guy I snapped at for interrupting Natasha and me yesterday.

Today, I couldn’t care less. And I leave him, and Suzanna to their respective misery in my mind.

Happiness is where you find it. What you make of it.

Moping around hating on anyone else just because they’re happy is plain stupid in my book.

“That is a lot of food,” Natasha exclaims when our breakfast arrives.

We haven’t said a lot, just lots of smiles and a few giggles as we both sit, reflecting on the night we shared. Still giddy from it all really.

And me? I’m the happiest man alive right now. Having met and claimed Natasha in less than a full day, I can’t help but feel elated.

Natasha’s happy too, but her face does cloud over every now and then, and I can tell who and what she’s thinking about without having to ask.

I’ll make it up to her once we get home. Show her that she can have a life outside of her friend and her mom.

“And whereishome for you?” Natasha wonders aloud suddenly, picking up on my thoughts.

“You’re always so vague about what it is you do, where you live,” she notes with a mock accusing air, heaping a pile of scrambled egg onto some toast and popping it in her mouth.

Yesterday she was too shy to even sit across from me, and today we’re sitting in almost the same spot, talking and eating like we’ve been together for years.

I love it.

I love her.

But she has a point.

Where is home?

“I don’t have apermanentplace in California,” I explain between my mouthfuls of food.

Not yet anyway.

Actually tasting it now. Enjoying it so much more now that I’m seeing Natasha eat as well.

“You like the city?” I ask her, changing the subject but only slightly. Changing it back to more about her.

She makes a face, looking down at her food. “We had a good street, last I remember,” she recounts.

“But since I’ve been away, it’s not so great,” she tells me.

Hearing the name of her neighborhood tells me a lot.

I’ve sold a few places in the city, but only know the ‘better’ parts of town from experience.

Natasha’s neighborhood isn’t even close.