The Girl Who Wrote The Dating Manual

chapter fifteen

The next morning, I was awoken at eight in the morning not by birds, not by a noise outside, and not even by roommate forcibly dragging me by the feet out of my bed and towards a class.

            Instead I was awoken by the incessant beeping from my phone, that seemed to literally have no end.

            “What…?” I groaned out, flipping over and glaring at the white device in question. Who the hell would be calling me at this hour? Ava would’ve just come in here, and everybody I’ve seen in the last twenty-four hours was probably too hung-over to even construct a coherent sentence at this time in the morning.

            I cleared my throat and picked up my phone. I didn’t recognize the Caller ID. All I recognized was that it certainly wasn’t a number I’d never seen before. The digits looked all wrong. “Hello?” I asked hesitantly.

            “Good morning. May I speak to a Miss Candice Sinclair?” The voice was female, and had the distinct, posh clip of a British accent. The voice, I knew immediately, was one I had never heard before.

            “This is she,” I told her, sitting up in bed, and attempting to run my fingers through the tangles in my bed hair.

            “Hello, Miss Sinclair. My name is Katarina Waldorf. How are you today?”

            “I’m great, thank you,” I said politely, frowning. “What can I do for you?”

            “I work for the London Institute of Culinary Arts, and your cooking ability has been brought to our attention. We’ve checked over your transcripts, and are willing to offer you an all-expenses paid scholarship to fly over and study with us in London. You’ll also have the chance to work at the upstate restaurant Rive La Belle, if you’re interested. We’ve never done this before, but after reading your letter of submission, we couldn’t help but be impressed by your skills.”

            “Letter of submission?” I responded. “I’m sorry, you must have the wrong person. I never submitted any kind of letter.”

            “Well, then someone must have sent it for you. Because it has your address, name and phone number, and thus far they’ve all matched. Is there someone who may have sent the letter to us?”

            And then it clicked. It had been suggested by my culinary teacher, Mr. Mangrove, that is submit an application to London, but I’d never actually done so. He must have sent one in on my behalf. I guessed I had mixed feeling about that.

            “Yeah,” I responded, clearing my throat. “My teacher, actually.”

            “You should be very thankful he did so. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The Institute wants you to be a part of them very much. They’re willing to pay for all costs. Ultimately, it’s your choice, but you’ll only ever receive this offer once, and it’s potentially life changing. I’m urging you to think very carefully about this decision.”