Page 14 of Babydaddy To Go

I down the tea quickly, but my entire body still feels jittery. I was anxious enough before I realized I went out with Nathaniel Glover!

If it were earlier, I’d call one of my friends back home to talk about my night. I don’t have a ton of girlfriends, but surely one of them would listen to me rave about my fantastic date. They’d be able to help me figure out what to do next, too.

The clock is dangerously close to eleven, though, and tomorrow is a workday. I don’t want to bother anyone with my boy problems.

After washing my tea mug and using the bathroom, I snuggle back into bed. Unfortunately, I’m still wide awake. Can the chamomile start working now, please?

A possibility I hadn’t yet thought of creeps into my brain just as it starts to shut down.

Tomorrow, we’re going to meet the celebrity chef who is teaching the entire year at NYACA. We haven’t been told who it is officially, but all of the hints seem to point in one direction. The guy has his own show, owns his own restaurants, and he’s a self-made chef. He started cooking as a kid and worked his way up in various restaurants before buying one and turning it into his first place. That story sounds an awful lot like Nathaniel Glover’s story.

What if Nate is my instructor? We only kissed, but will it still be really awkward in class? Oh god. That can’t happen. Maybe the school will be taught by someone else? I can only hope.

Finally, I start to yawn. It’s already later than I planned on falling asleep tonight. I should have known I’d be anxious. I could have brewed the tea as soon as Nate left to help me fall asleep much earlier than it is now.

Oh well, I guess six hours of sleep is better than none. I close my eyes and hope to find sleep waiting for me.

It takes another hour before I finally drift off. There’s definitely a smile on my face, because as I fall asleep, I’m thinking about Nate, that kiss, and how badly I want to do it again.

5

Alyssa

The sun isn’t usually up at six in the morning. That’s my first thought when my alarm wakes me up bright and early Monday morning.

My second thought: it’s not six in the morning. According to my phone, it’s nine. I’m going to be late. Oh shit, oh shit. I was supposed to be in the classroom by now! This can’t be happening, not on my first day.

I jump out of bed and fumble around in my suitcase for my school uniform. NYACA requires us to wear full chef’s gear for every day of class, even the first, so in the bathroom, I change in record time. I toss my supplies into my shoulder bag, grab my phone from the side table, and run out the door.

Jogging in what I can only hope is the right direction, I type the address into my phone and wait for Google Maps to compute. It’s so much faster to take the train, which was my original plan, but I can’t afford to wait for the next subway. I have no choice but to sprint there and hope my instructor is lenient on our first day.

As I pass by various New Yorkers on the street, I try to convince myself this is all a dream. People often have realistic dreams when they’re stressed, right? That must be what’s happening to me. In a few minutes, I’m going to wake up and find I still have plenty of time to get to class.

I pinch myself for good measure. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re dreaming and want to wake up, I think. The sharp pain is annoying, and I’m still sprinting down a city sidewalk.

Guess that means I’m not dreaming after all, even though this feels like a total nightmare.

Luckily for me, most people started work at nine and it’s not a busy tourist day. The sidewalks are mostly empty, with only a few stragglers, as I run full speed towards my school. Less than ten minutes later, I’m standing in front of a imposing glass and steel building.

This is it!

It’s my first day, the instructor has to excuse my tardiness. No one could be so rude as to call me out on my first day!

The door opens with a slight tug. Inside, the walls are covered in photos of food and all of the chefs who came to NYACA. I’ve seen all of these people on TV with their own shows, or in the news opening huge restaurants. I can’t believe I’m going to the same school that taught them everything they know. This really is my dream come true!

Printed signs guide me to the classroom. I push the door open, figuring that the class will be going over getting-to-know-you games or the syllabus.

It’s just my luck that class is in full swing. All of the students have notebooks open on their desks, but none of them are paying attention to the instructor.

Every eye is on me.

Including our instructor, I realize when I lift my gaze to the front of the room.

Familiar eyes stare down at me.

It’s just my luck that after missing my alarm and showing up late, the class instructor is the one person I didn’t want it to be.

My face is bright red. “Sorry,” I mumble. “I woke up late.”