Snark and Circumstance (Novella) by Stephanie Wardrop

Author:Stephanie Wardrop [Wardrop, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, young adult, eBook, Contemporary, Nook, Kindle, Teens, Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Swoon Romance
Published: 2013-02-03T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 4: Nobody Likes the Wife of Bath

The next day, I go to the grocery store myself, which I discover actually has a decent amount of tofu on the shelves and a whole “natural foods” section. So my mom has been holding out on me for a year now, claiming there was no veggie food available except at distant health-food stores, waging some kind of war of attrition, thinking she could starve me into submission. When I get home, planning to veganize her spaghetti-sauce recipe to show everyone that you don’t need crumbled dead cow flesh to make it tasty, I am shocked to find Michael Endicott strolling into my kitchen through the door I had left open for one of the cats. So shocked that I drop the groceries I am putting away. I look like a character from a bad sitcom.

“Hi, Georgia,” he says from the doorway. “I, uh, came to see if Tori is okay.”

“Well, she and Trey are in the den.” I know I should be decent enough to turn around and face him, but I’m still embarrassed, so I act like it is extremely important that I pick up these groceries before the earth opens up and swallows them.

“Oh, Trey is here?” Michael asks as he bends down and picks up some of the stuff that fell out of the canvas bag.

“Yeah . . . Well, I’m sure you can see that Tori’s fine . . .” I say as I reach up to put some rice noodles into the cupboard, expecting him to recognize that this is his cue to go.

He doesn’t.

“‘Gimme Lean Soy Crumbles,’” he reads and the distaste is so evident in his voice that I ignore him. Honestly, you would think I had brought in a bag labeled “Bloody Pig Nostrils”—but if I had, he’d probably ask where we keep the forks.

“What’s all this for?” he asks when I don’t answer him.

“To eat, obviously.” I sigh and look at him at last. He has on his usual polo shirt—this one is forest green—but jeans that are actually faded. I guess a trip to my house must count as slumming for him. “I’m writing an article on veganism for The Alt. Because you’re not the only one in this town who thinks a meal isn’t a meal unless it once had a heartbeat.”

He smirks and leans against the refrigerator.

“Is that a line from your article? If so, are you trying to convert people or just bludgeon them?”

I force myself to hold a cup under the faucet without my hand shaking too much. I even manage a sip from it before I say, “Well, you’ve seen that Tori’s just fine so, amusing as I find your ignorant comments about my eating habits, don’t feel you have to stick around here on my account.”

“Right. Well, I just wanted to make sure Tori was okay. And see if you were still mad at me.” He kind of chuckles at that idea, peels himself off the fridge, and looks at me with one eyebrow crooked in amusement.

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