Chapter 4 Plan B

Eden had a suspiciously long nap during the thirty-minute drive from Willow Hills to her apartment in Forrest Creek, an artsy neighbourhood in the east of Rock Castle, jerking awake when the car skidded as they hit a pothole on the road.

She yawned and stretched as she looked outside her window, feeling oddly embarrassed for passing out on her Uber driver. The last thing she remembered was him asking her if the air conditioning in the car was okay.

She couldn't decide if she was brave or just plain stupid for falling asleep in the back of a stranger's car, especially when she was dressed in nothing but a man's shirt and her coat.

She shifted in her seat and crossed her legs demurely, praying she hadn't inadvertently opened them while she slept. Going commando wasn't as liberating as she thought it would be. She felt vulnerable and well, naked.

Now that she had time to put some distance between her and last night's terrible decisions, she had to figure out the mystery surrounding her missing underwear. It wasn't in her trench as she'd expected, and it was most definitely not in Liam's room when she left.

Did he hide it from her on purpose, was he a weirdo who stole women's underwear and kept them as memorabilia to eternalise all his conquests?

The longer she thought about it, the more convinced Eden was that the massive walk-in closet she'd noticed to the left of Liam's room, next to the frosted glass door she'd assumed led to his ensuite, was filled with thousands of women's panties in all shapes, colours and sizes.

Just how many had he collected over the years? And of all the perverts at Crush what had possessed her to choose him?

"Gosh!" She moaned in her hands, her brown hair cascading in waves around her face.

"Are you okay?" Jude asked, his eyes boring holes into her through the rearview mirror.

Eden shook her head. She wasn't okay. She would never be after last night.

"We're almost there," Jude checked the ETA on his phone and threw her a reassuring smile, completely misunderstanding the reason for her misery.

She wasn't eager to get home, not with the Spanish Inquisition awaiting her. It was unavoidable, judging from the way the group chat was blowing up, but she would delay it as long as she could.

"Drop me off at the corner over there, please," she told the driver, pointing at a busy intersection up ahead.

He turned in his seat, his face laced with concern. "Are you sure?"

Yes, she was. She needed carbs. Lots of them. And maybe Plan B. She could never go wrong with Plan B.

"Don't forget to rate me five stars!" Jude called after her as she slipped out of the Toyota Quest.

Did he deserve five stars though, Eden wondered as she crossed the road and made her way to the bakery on the corner of 5th Street and Main Avenue.

It was just after 8:00 AM, but the neighbourhood was already a flurry of activity with people going about their Saturday morning errands and market vendors pushing their carts, getting ready to make a killing at the flea market at the rooftop of the Civic Theatre.

As the Arts District, this side of Rock Castle was not in short supply of galleries, trendy coffee shops and rooftop gardens. Anything your artsy, indie heart desired, from poetry recitals to exhibitions and private culinary experiences, you'd find it all here.

Eden shuffled forward in the queue, already anticipating the way the chocolate croissants would melt in her mouth.

She couldn't remember who'd suggested it, but since they all had a passion for the arts and various Honours Degrees to back it up, moving to Forrest Creek made sense at the time. They all had dreams of making it big in their respective careers. But three years on, they were still waiting to catch their big breaks.

She still hadn't struck gold as a children's book illustrator.

Lydia's acting dreams hadn't soared yet, but her vlogs had thrust her in the limelight. So that was something.

The only columns Sienna ever wrote were for Forrest Creek Times, a glorified newsletter, disguised as a free community newspaper.

As a pastry chef, Cassandra was still trying to come up with a dessert recipe that will turn the culinary world on its head.

But despite the slight delay in all their dreams, they were all happy here. Leaving her parents' overpriced penthouse at the heart of Rock Castle and moving in with her friends was the best decision Eden had ever made. If she still lived under their roof, she'd have to face more than a Spanish Inquisition. Her parents were still getting over their bitter disappointment over her failed engagement; a one night stand would send them to their early graves.

At last, she made it to the counter but sighed with disappointment when she saw everything, except bran muffins, was sold out. She didn't want bran muffins, but she was depressed. And it's a rule to gorge yourself till you pass out when you're depressed.

She bought twelve and ate two as she walked three blocks in the opposite direction, away from her flat, to the obscure pharmacy on Diagonal alley.

The girl behind the counter was nice. She didn't ask too many questions and didn't give her a judgy look as she discreetly handed her an inconspicuous looking box. Even though they were alone, Drew-that's what the name tag on her coat said-gave her instructions on how to take the pill, in hushed tones, as if the aging, peeling walls had ears.

"You have to take it as a single dose, within twenty-four hours for best results," she said earnestly, her moss green eyes wide with panic for her.

"Thanks," Eden mumbled as she flashed her cheque card and Drew rung her up.