ls to her apartment in Forrest Creek, an artsy neighbourhood in the east of Roc

y embarrassed for passing out on her Uber driver. The last thing she re

falling asleep in the back of a stranger's car, especially w

t inadvertently opened them while she slept. Going commando wasn't as li

ns, she had to figure out the mystery surrounding her missing underwear. It wasn't in he

irdo who stole women's underwear and kept them

she'd noticed to the left of Liam's room, next to the frosted glass door she'd assumed led

years? And of all the perverts at Crus

ands, her brown hair cascad

is eyes boring holes into her

wasn't okay. She would

s phone and threw her a reassuring smile, comple

waiting her. It was unavoidable, judging from the way the group

e, please," she told the driver, poi

his face laced with c

ots of them. And maybe Plan B. Sh

rs!" Jude called after her as she

s she crossed the road and made her way to the ba

eople going about their Saturday morning errands and market vendors pushing their carts,

endy coffee shops and rooftop gardens. Anything your artsy, indie heart desired, from p

ready anticipating the way the chocola

rs Degrees to back it up, moving to Forrest Creek made sense at the time. They all had dreams of making i

uck gold as a childr

yet, but her vlogs had thrust her in

Forrest Creek Times, a glorified newslette

ing to come up with a dessert recipe that

ving 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 Inquisiti

ything, except bran muffins, was sold out. She didn't want bran muffins, but she was

e blocks in the opposite direction, away from he

screetly handed her an inconspicuous looking box. Even though they were alone, Drew-that's what the name tag on he

nty-four hours for best results," she said earnes

she flashed her cheque c