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‘Are you done?’
‘I think so… Wait, did you…?’ He perfects an expression of mock thoughtfulness. ‘No, I think that’s it.’
I groan again. How many times have I fantasised about Chase carrying me back to his place after having a few drinks? We’d light a candle in the kitchen and pop open a red wine and we’d talk and laugh until we kissed.
But if life has taught me anything from this past week, it’s that as much as you expect something to happen in a specific way, things turn out unexpectedly. Life isn’t scripted; if it was, there’d be no surprises or excitement, and people would constantly be trying to speed up to get where they want to be. Life is a mess; it’s making mistakes and doing the right thing and professing who you really are without apology.
It’s scary and daunting, but I’m still here, alive and breathing.
I may have made a complete tit of myself last night, but I’m still exactly where I want to be. In Chase’s kitchen—albeit hanging out of my arse, but in Chase’s kitchen nonetheless.
It’s taken me until now to realise that it doesn’t really matter if you embarrass yourself or fail, as long as you’re with the right people—the rightperson.
‘Can we stop talking about last night?’ I say. ‘If you say another word, I’m gonna throw up.’
‘I believe you.’ He places a plate in front of me and turns back to the frying pan. ‘Hungry?’
Oh, so heismaking breakfast for me.
My heart does a little happy dance—but then I remember he’s just being friendly, and my smile collapses. ‘Starving, but…’ I wince. ‘I can’t eat meat.’
He pauses in the middle of shuffling bacon onto my plate. ‘You’re vegetarian?’
‘Not quite. I’m cutting down on meat, so I only indulge once a month. Sorry.’
I feel terrible. He’s gone out of his way to cook me breakfast, and I can’t eat it. Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut—
‘Why are you apologising?’ He sets the frying pan on the stove. He opens his cupboards and starts routing through them. ‘Do you like beans on toast?’
If I wasn’t absolutely starving, I would have refused. ‘I love beans on toast.’
‘So, do you cut down on meat for the cows and sheep?’ he asks as he slops a tin of beans into a bowl and puts it in the microwave.
‘Livestock are the problem.’
‘How so?’
‘Well, for starters, agricultural land is responsible for around seventy percent of deforestation to make way for beef and soy, and deforestation not only destroys wildlife habitats, it also destroys trees, which help store carbon. And the world’s population is rapidly increasing, which means more demand for meat, which means more deforestation, which means less room for carbon to be stored, ultimately contributing to climate change. Forests are being cut down to make way for livestock and houses, and one day we’ll run out of room. I found out the other day that wild mammals only make up four percent of the world, with humans making up thirty-six, and livestock sixty. So, yeah, farm animals are part of the problem, because it has a chain-link effect on the oceans, too, because they also store carbon, and with less trees, more carbon will be stored in the sea, which makes them warm up. And this doesn’t even include harmful fertilisers or farmers culling wild animals to protect their livestock…’ I trail off to catch my breath. I’ve just babbled to Chase Maverick about climate change.
I bet he thinks I’m so weird now. I remember Archer laughing at me yesterday because I rescued that spider, and I remember him looking annoyed when I ordered a vegetable burger.
Chase stares at me. He shakes his head, and his eyes are bright with something I don’t recognise. ‘Goddamn,’ he mutters almost to himself. ‘Have you ever thought about being an animal rights activist?’
For a moment I’m too surprised to gather my thoughts. ‘I… No. Of course not.’
He quirks a brow at me as he places a plate of beans and toast before me. He squirts brown sauce on it and takes the seat opposite me.
‘I mean, don’t get me wrong,’ I begin, ‘it’s great they’re passionate about something that they want to make a difference. But they go about it in such stupid ways. Like, there are so many other reasons why we should stop eating meat. Activists can drawl about how we’re cruel for eating meat, how we can’t love our pets because we eat meat, but cruelty isn’t a good enough reason to stop. If it was, we wouldn’t need to be told. We’ve gone beyond that now; we can look at a cute little calf and separate the reality of its slaughter. We lie to ourselves and we force ourselves not to think of the deaths of those animals, because meat tastes so fucking good.’
He looks at me as he sips from his coffee. ‘That’s actually really admirable, Frankie. I think you should approach school about this.’
My heart jumps and leaps with joy. I try to keep the tremble from my voice when I say, ‘About what?’ I saw off a bit of bread, top it with beans, and shove it into my mouth. My stomach growls with thanks.
He pops a piece of egg into his mouth. ‘I’m not vegetarian, but I’ve noticed the lack of vegetarian options in the cafeteria. How are we supposed to move forward and cut down on meat if we’re not given the opportunity?’
‘Are you being serious?’
‘Why not?’
