Page 1 of Just My Luck

CHAPTER ONE

ELAINA

“Why are you even asking me?” I groaned heavily as I stared across my desk at my best friend, Mallory.

“Because you need to come out with us! You always bail! Every. Single. Year,” Mallory complained.

She was right and I didn’t feel even an inkling sorry for it. Every St. Patricks Day, she would invite me out to the pub with our other friends. And each year, I dodged the bullet of celebrating by simply saying no.

It wasn’t like Mallory didn’t know my reasons for not wanting to celebrate the holiday. She was just hellbound and determined to turn my distaste for holidays– especially St. Patricks Day– around. I’d give her an A for effort but ba-hum-bug to holidays.

“Mallory, we have been over this a thousand times,” I sighed.

“You’re stuck in the past, Elaina.”

“And for good reasons,” I retorted.

“I know that–” She cut her words abruptly then bit her lip nervously. Her mouth opened several times; however, she said nothing. She looked like a nervous wreck.

“Mallory, relax. Geeze. How long have we known each other?” I chuckled. “We have talked about my parents’ deaths a thousand times.”

“It doesn’t mean it gets any easier, Elaina Goodwell!” she scolded me with a finger waving in my face.

“Are you twenty-eight or eighty-two?” I laughed, shaking my head. “The way you get onto me reminds me of my nanna.”

Mallory held her middle fingers in the air and grinned.

“Such a classy lady,” I winked, making her giggle. “So you going to hide out in my office all day?”

“Or until you agree to come to the St. Patrick’s Day party,” she smirked. A loud groan escaped me. This woman wasn’t giving up.

“Mall–”

“Elaina, I understand that St. Patrick’s Day and you have history together; however, as your bestie, it is my job to make sure you make new and happy memories,” she beamed ear-to-ear. “So this year, I don’t care if I have to drag your ass, kicking and screaming, youwillbe at the pub with all of us. Understood?”

“It just isn’t–”

“None of that. You need to get your head out of your ass, Elaina!” she shouted, standing up and slamming her hands on my desk. “Youwillnot hide away in your apartment while I get shit-faced drunk! Youwillbe my wing-lady andwewill get drunk together! No ands, ifs, or buts!”

Intensity poured off of Mallory as she shook her fist angrily at me. She stomped her foot and glared at me. I had clearly struck a nerve like every other year, except multiplied times ten this time.

St. Patrick’s Day had taken my parents from me when I was five. They had gone out to celebrate their favorite holiday. On their way home, they were hit head-on by a drunk driver. They died at the scene, leaving me an orphan to be raised by my Nanna.

I tried to avoid St. Patrick’s Day and all other holidays like the plague. My Nanna tried hard to make my childhood filled with happiness. I put on a mask and smiled pretty every holiday but deep down, I felt guilty for enjoying life without my parents.

“Mallory, I’m sorry,” I sighed.

Her eyebrow rose and she cocked her head slightly.

“You are?” she asked.

“Yes. You’re a good friend,” I smiled, balling up a scrap piece of paper and tossing it at her. She caught it like a boss and smirked.

“I am. Aren’t I?”

“And modest too,” I laughed.

“So you’ll go?”

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