Page 1 of Mr. Green

Chapter 1

Lana

Every time I cook these days, I end up disappointed. It tastes like an ingredient is missing. I stare down at my hand stirring the waffle batter clockwise in the teal mixing bowl—cooking something anyways. The spoon keeps moving—like it’s so easy. “Just go forward,” it taunts. A scoff escapes as I glare at the utensil. Turning away from my task is the most logical thing to do. There’s no reason to be mad at an inanimate object for moving along—it’s what I should be doing.

I turn on the waffle iron and wait with my backside leaning against the counter. Then I check my phone—no texts or missed calls. I open my social media apps next—no new notifications. Just like yesterday. He hasn’t reached out. I swipe at the tear rolling down my face, clenching my jaw, angry the little drop fell.

Shifting from foot to foot, I wait for the red dot to appear. When it finally does, I put the batter into the waffle iron. The sweet smell lingers throughout my home, making my stomach gurgle. I grab one of my colorful plates; at least they have some personality. Then I sit down to eat. Even though I’m excited for my meal, the waffles taste bland as usual. I shouldn’t have made them. It was a waste of time.

At this point, I’m sure the missing ingredient is love.

After I’m done eating, I clean up my dishes and make my way to the bathroom. Maybe today is the day. Today isthe day I’ll realize I don’t need a guy to make me happy. I’m worthy. I’m amazing. I’m the best goddamn thing that happened to this world.

I sigh once I reach the mirror, face to face with the strange person staring back at me.Maybe tomorrow.

The woman in the reflection has lifeless brown eyes with dark circles underneath them, slumped shoulders, and an overall dull demeanor. The same thoughts I’ve had for the last year or so creep into the forefront of my mind.

You’re not pretty enough. You were never good enough. Why would anybody love you?

I remove my glasses, thinking it’ll help me not see the horrid reflection staring back. I hop in the shower before more tears start falling, trying to think of something else—anything else. I lather on my favorite lavender body wash and inhale, the familiar scent releasing pressure from my chest.

I know I need to do something. It’s been over two years for fuck’s sake. I should be over him by now, but that would mean giving up on someone I love. I just can’t.

I’ve thought about being with other guys—Ishouldbe with other guys—but I automatically start thinking they’ll just leave or have no reason to want to be with me. He was the first one to stay with me for longer than a month. Dating anyone is hard and will just end in heartbreak, so what’s the point?

That question has plagued me month after month.

I remember the times when I could rise early, when I had energy to smile, when I liked my reflection. I’d wake everyday excited for what was in store. Now it’s an accomplishment to get out of bed.

The day Ryan, my ex, left replays in my mind over and over again. I woke up to find him gone. All his thingspacked. No note, no call, just gone. Like two and a half years together didn’t mean a thing. Like I didn’t mean a thing when I thought he was my everything.

The only thing keeping me going now is my business and my friends.

I have people to meet, things to do, places to go. A meeting with Jason, the sales manager at the gym I own a third of,Prestige Fitness Club and Spa,is in thirty minutes. I should be out of the shower by now—doing my hair and makeup—putting effort into my appearance.

Yeah, right.

Ryan obviously didn’t see us staying together, even when I tried being presentable. In moments of weakness, which is often, I look him up on social media. I just want to get a glimpse of what he looks like now. See his familiar face as I wish it was in person.

Unfortunately for me, he blocked me. I stare at an old picture of him on my phone instead. It was taken the day before he left—looking preppy, clean-cut, smiling. I should move on. I don’t know where to start. I can’t even look at another guy or think about another guy without comparing them to him. God, that’s so cliché. I roll my eyes at myself.

You’re pathetic.

Fifteen minutes pass in the shower before I decide to drag myself out. I choose some black leggings and a dark gray blouse that looks like a pillowcase. It hides my stomach, so I don’t care what it looks like. I throw my hair in a messy bun and call it a day.

I squeeze into my little white economy car. Then I put the car in reverse and tap on the gas to make my way over to the gym.

Honk!

I jump in my seat, hitting the brake as quick as I can.Oops. Didn’t see that car.

Once I check my surroundings again, I’m off. It’ll take less than ten minutes to arrive at work. You can get almost anywhere in this town in ten minutes. Lakebrook has one theater, one nice place to eat, and one casual café. Not a lot of options, but big enough for someone like me to blend in.

Once I reach the gym, I scan my code and head to the only office. A light sheen of sweat begins to set in, along with a dry throat. Going to the office means others will be hanging around. Interacting with a bunch of people means smiling, talking, and listening. I need energy and to give a damn for those things.

Sometimes seeing people isn’t bad. My best friend and business partner, Scarlett, is usually there. Scarlett’s fiancé, Matt, comes in whenever Scarlett is scheduled since his office is down the street.

But sometimes her fiancée brings in someone else. Someone else that gives me butterflies, makes me blush, and makes me trip over my own feet. I’d rather not deal withhim.