FUDGE.
Not the gooey, chocolate variety that coated Val’s tongue in sweet ecstasy each time she bit into her favorite extra chewy brownies— but the word she would automatically utter when faced with an extremely stressful situation.
It was because no matter how dire the situation, she could not bring herself to cuss; so a watered-down version of that swear word that rhymed with duck was the best that she could interject.
FUDGE!
“Blame it on the nuns,” she would smirk, referring to the wimple-wearing administration that dictated her education—from kindergarten all the way to high school.
Not that she was a model of Christian faith, humility and all-around niceness. She was one of the most popular girls in her university and achieving, and even holding on to the, status meant having a streak of haughtiness. Not being able to curse was just one of her quirks, along with the need to always win—the latter she was giving up now, in order to win back something more precious than mere victory.
FUDGEFUDGEFUDGEFUDGEFUDGE!
Val gave an involuntary start when she heard her laugh—an unapologetic, soul-powered laugh that floated above the canned orchestral music pouring from the speakers. It was a laugh so hearty, you could slice it with a fork and knife, consume it, and allow it to warm your insides. Val’s heart ached just hearing it.
She gazed at the couple dining at the lone table bathed in soft light. From where she hid, she could see his face, and knew right away, that he, too, felt the pull of her charm. He was smiling and looking at her in a way that made Val’s heart ache anew.
Le sigh.
They were almost done with the pasta. In a few moments, it would be time for dessert—and the Big Reveal. After which, Val would know if she totally, irrevocably fudged it this time.