Chapter 3 A Date by Chance

Across town, at Jupiter's flagship restaurant, Huxley was enjoying a rare quiet moment when one of his exes stormed in and started shouting. "How could you dump someone over a text message?" "What's wrong with a text? I even sent an emoji." He gave her a charming, entirely unapologetic grin. "Didn't I send a crying face and everything?" "You said I was your woman..." "Oh, that..." He leaned back, thoroughly amused. "Well, it's true. Every beautiful woman in the world is my woman. That’s why I’m so busy.” "Hey! Huxley!" she shrieked, loud enough that half the restaurant turned to look. She snatched a glass of water, raising it as if to drench him. At the last second, she stopped herself, drank the water in one gulp, and slammed the glass down. "Is the rumor even true?" she asked, her voice dropping. "What rumor?" "That you grant girls one wish when you break up with them." He smiled, leaning in close. "Just say the word." Minutes later, they stood at the valet curb. The woman pointed straight at his favorite sports car, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. With a careless shrug, Huxley tossed her the keys. She hopped in, revved the engine, and sped away into the night. "There goes another one," he sighed, completely unbothered, and turned to flag down a taxi just to meet his friends. --- "My new grandma and my mom are the same age," Huxley complained to his friends at the club that evening. "At this rate I might end up with a baby uncle." "That's one seriously complicated family tree," one of them laughed. "Does he look down on me?" Huxley muttered, swirling the ice in his glass. "He doesn't care what I think at all. I shouldn't just sit around and take it, right?" "So, what are you going to do about it?" another friend asked. "The ceremony's tomorrow," a third one chimed in. Huxley's eyes lit with mischief. "All right, let's shake up Grandpa's wedding." He walked toward the VIP entrance and pointed at the general automated doors. "I’ll take the very first girl who walks through those doors as my date.” "I would genuinely love to study your brain," his friend said. "What's even going on in there? Though I'll give you this: the girls who come through that door tonight won't be easy pickings." Huxley leaned in, voice low. "I don't care. It's more fun if she's a psycho." The club kept buzzing around them, people dancing, drinks swirling, and the noise thumped through the floor while Huxley and his friends stood watching the entrance, patient as hawks. Finally, the doors swung open. It was Emily. She was drenched from head to toe, wearing a heavy raincoat and holding a stack of steaming pizza boxes. She shook the water off and shouted over the music, clearly exhausted. "Pizza delivery!" Huxley's friends burst out laughing. Huxley just stared, jaw dropping. A smug customer in a VIP booth raised his hand. "That's weird. Are you sure you're at the right table?" "What? You ordered five pizzas, didn’t you?” Emily snapped, wiping a drop of rain from her face. "No, I’m talking about this.” The guy pointed to the receipt, highlighting the special request line: Send Your Prettiest Delivery Girl. "Special requests are for things like 'the elevator's broken, take the stairs,' or 'nobody's home, leave it by the door.' That's what that section is for," Emily said, forcing a razor-thin smile. "Says who? Is that a law now?" The customer sneered. "I asked for the prettiest girl, and they sent an ugly girl like you. Don’t I have the right to complain as a customer?” “That’ll be a hundred and twenty-seven dollars. Are you paying with a card?” Emily interrupted, ignoring his insult. "I'm too annoyed to even eat now. What are you going to do about that?" he sneered. "Pay up while I'm still being nice," Emily warned. "Excuse me?" the guy's buddy laughed. "Are you threatening a customer right now?" He snatched the pizza boxes and hurled them to the floor. “What now? Does that piss you off?” He stepped closer and flicked Emily hard on the forehead. “You’re just a piece of delivery vermin. Know your place.” From across the room, Huxley was already moving to step in until his friends grabbed his arm. “Hey, don’t get involved. You’ll just wind up paying his hospital bills if you hit him.” "Who said anything about fists?" he muttered, already reaching for his wallet, but before anyone could process what was happening, the rude customer at the table was airborne. Emily had delivered a lightning-fast kick directly to the man’s chest, sending him crashing backward into his booth. She unzipped her raincoat, tossed it aside, and glared down at him with fierce, sharp eyes. Huxley stood frozen, completely mesmerized. "I'll... I'll pay. Please, just let me pay!" the guy stammered, scrambling backward on his hands and knees. Emily grabbed his credit card, slapped it into her portable card reader, and held out the device. "Apologize. For calling me vermin." "Fine. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay?" he said, crawling backward. "There are people all over this city riding around at this hour, in this weather, for customers like you. And you call us vermin? Insects?" "All right! I won’t!” the man squeaked. "Try living your life a little differently," she said, then turned to the gawking crowd and bowed politely. "Sorry for the scene, everyone." Without waiting another second, she picked up her helmet and walked out. "Think you can actually pull this off?" Huxley's friend nudged him. "Are you underestimating me? A slow grin spread across Huxley’s face. “She’s an absolute thug, but damn. I love it. Come on, I’m a man of my word, just watch me.” He rushed out the doors after her, but by the time he hit the pavement, Emily had already kicked her motorcycle to life and sped off into the rain. He stood on the curb watching her taillights shrink into the distance, then pulled out his phone and snapped a quick photo of her license plate before she disappeared completely. Emily pulled her bike into the narrow driveway of her family’s home. Inside, her stepmother, Darus, and her stepsister, Yara, were huddled together over a laptop, checking Yara’s university application portal. Darus was a wreck about it, biting her knuckles as Yara hovered the cursor over a green button that read ‘CHECK ADMISSION RESULT’. Yara finally clicked. The screen refreshed, displaying bold red text: CHRIS YARA NOT ACCEPTED. Darus let out a furious, dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe this!” she groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "I told you, I didn't want to go to college," Yara whined, slouching back in her chair. "I said I'm going to be a singer." “I paid for private tutors and prep courses so you could network with boys like Kyle Huxley!” Darus shouted. "And since that didn't pan out, the least you could do is get into college. I want a return on my investment!" "Whatever! Why are you taking this out on me?" Yara whined. Just then the front door opened, and Emily walked in. "Good evening, Mom. Good evening, Yara," she said warmly. “Why are you still walking around in that worn-out school uniform?” Darus scolded, ignoring the greeting entirely. "People see you dressed like that, they'll think we're poor. And that insult lands on me, not you." "It's just... it's comfortable," Emily murmured gently. Yara smirked. "Oh, is it now?" “I’m sorry,” Emily said softly, keeping her head down to keep the peace. Darus nudged Yara’s arm. “Refresh it one more time. Maybe it was a glitch.” “Mom, stop. It’s not going to change,” Yara groaned. Emily stepped forward. "Mother, can I use the computer, just this once?" Emily asked quietly. Yara snickered, trading a look with her mother. “Wait, did you actually apply to college?” Emily nodded. "Fine. Go ahead." Yara said, sliding the laptop over. Emily sat down and typed into the search bar: University of Education. "University of Education?" Darus asked, surprised. "Yes. I want to be a teacher," Emily said softly. "It was my mother's dream." “Unbelievable.” Darus rolled her eyes. “I raised you, and all you care about is your dead mother." "That's not what I meant, Mother..." "Don’t set your sights too high, Emily. People like you only end up disappointed. Learn your place.” Before Darus could finish her rant, the page loaded. A green button appeared: CHECK ADMISSION RESULT. Emily entered her applicant ID and clicked the button. CONGRATULATIONS! CHRIS EMILY — YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED. Joy flooded through her, while across the room, Darus and Yara went visibly rigid with something closer to jealousy. Darus rounded on Yara with a furious glare. Yara, scrambling to save face, sneered at Emily instead. "Well, it's not like just anyone can go to college. You need money for that." "I've saved enough for the first semester," Emily replied calmly, closing the laptop browser. “I’ll work extra shifts to cover the rest.” The second she reached her room, she nearly screamed and clapped both hands over her mouth instead, muffling it down to something quiet. “I made it... I actually made it! This is amazing. Oh my god, this is so amazing." She kept her voice down, careful not to let it carry to the sitting room, where her stepmother was still stewing. "Man, today was rough," she murmured, "but this makes up for every bit of it." She pulled out the silver pendant she always wore, the one engraved with her mother's picture. Pressing the cold metal to her lips, tears blurred her eyes. "Mom. I'm a college student now. I got in," she whispered. "I'm going to make your dream come true, I promise. Your daughter's pretty awesome, huh? I miss you so much... I'll come see you soon."