Page 1 of Exchange of Heart

CHAPTER ONE

Nora

I transformed from cheerful to hangry in a matter of seconds. Impossible to pinpoint the exact moment, I figured somewhere between making a joke about spreadsheets in the staff room and finalising an income statement, my last drop of cheer evaporated.

Poof.

My creased forehead replaced my smile, and my feet slapped the pavement as I prepared to eat my way through a ridiculous array of food like the Hungry Caterpillar. My stomach grumbled in protest as shops on the street hung closed signs in windows, and I knew I was up for a race against time. Three in the afternoon wasn’t an ideal lunch break, but I’d convinced myself it was imperative to crunch numbers and compile reports before leaving my desk. After all, how could my boss, Mark, notice my dedication if the chair at my desk was empty? An empty chair could ruin my opportunity for a much-needed pay rise, and I’d risk walking the same ‘two-job, minimum-wage’ footsteps my mother did after my dad left.

I would never allow myself to depend on a man.

I could almost taste the promotion I’d been dreaming about. Or was that the scent of a glorious hotdog teasing my taste buds as I panted along the pavement?

With only five shop fronts between me and the food van, the man reached under the counter, and the closed sign threatened to appear at any moment. Never one to miss an opportunity, my feet pounded the pavement faster.

‘Stop!’ I lifted my palm, three shop fronts still between us.

His beady eyes darted to me before his hairy hand slammed the closed sign onto the counter like a guillotine. The foul smirk on his face beheaded any optimism I’d dared to maintain.

‘Sorry, I’m done for the day.’ He didn’t look sorry.

‘Just one more hotdog?’ I begged.

‘Nope.’ His gold tooth glistened at the sight of my hands clasped together in prayer.

‘Business is business,’ I assured him.

‘Yeah, your five dollars is finally gonna get me that house by the beach.’ His gravelly laugh turned into a hacking cough.

My appetite for his phlegm-covered hotdogs should have wavered, but food options were limited now as we neared the end of the day.

‘Oh, come on,’ I pleaded.

He leaned his freckled arm on the counter and revelled in delight as he denied me with a shake of his head. His gaze travelled from my narrowed, brown eyes to my waist. ‘Beat it. You don’t need it.’

I held my expression steady, but heat filled my face until my cheeks grew as pink as my lipstick. What an asshole. He’d probably watched too many pornos and thought every vagina was a rose yet to bloom. The book I’d read last night, Disputing with Elegance, suggested to always take the high road. After all, you never know when your paths may cross again, or what circumstances it might be under.

‘I hope you get diarrhoea so explosive it paints the walls,’ I snarled.

Forget the high road.

‘Hope all you want. He got the last one anyway.’ His shiny head motioned to the end of his cart.

A tattooed arm I’d recognise anywhere reached for the tomato sauce, and I hoped the crusty nozzle squirted sideways and splattered his overpriced white collar and rolled-up sleeves. Furiously starving, it was like the universe had gifted me someone to take it out on.

‘What are you doing here?’ My voice summoned a tone not of this world.

His back muscles tensed under the almost see-through shirt, his outstretched arm froze, and his head twisted to me like a demonic doll until his cold, grey eyes focused on my scrunched nose.

‘Getting lunch.’ He leaned against the cart with his trademark smirk, golden hair curling over his ears like an ungroomed llama.

God. I hated Corey Flemmington.

The aggravating inked arm that always shot into the air before mine in finance class, his big-ass body blocking my view from his chair in front, and the unspoken likelihood that he’d paid for the course upfront while I continued to scrape pennies so I could meet the instalments of my payment plan. Content people might ignore him, but considering he thrived while I barely survived, I was not content.

Not with my one-bedroom apartment on a city street that witnessed more crime than a courtroom. Not with the lentils I’d been substituting for overpriced meat lately. And most definitely not with this infuriating finance manager who lived my dream life without a care in the world.

‘You took the last one,’ I said through gritted teeth.