Jordan Parker
Clumsy.
Absent-minded.
Hopelessly uncoordinated.
Or maybe... cursed.
Or maybe it's just... me. Jordan Parker.
My dad says I have a magnet for bad luck because I always walk around with my head in the clouds. And, well, today I can't argue. He was right — though I refuse to let him tease me about it over the phone.
I'm at the airport. On time. Ready to board the flight to the internship of my dreams. No delays, no running around. Everything going smoothly — which, let's be honest, should've been my first red flag.
The problem? I arrived 24 hours early. Yep, a whole day before the actual flight. Who messes up the travel date? Me, of course.
I was so proud of myself for packing early, arriving calmly... So confident that I didn't even think to double-check the ticket date. Idiot. And now what? Call my dad to come pick me up, so he can laugh until he wheezes? Not a chance.
So I decided to improvise. "Think positive, Jordan," I told myself, while searching for a nearby hotel. Fifteen minutes on foot, the map said. I figured it was a good idea to walk, stretch my legs, enjoy the fresh air... And it was a good idea... until one of the suitcase wheels broke halfway there.
"Shit," I muttered. And as if that weren't enough, I gave it an impulsive kick — which broke it even more. "Brilliant, Jordan. Very classy."
I dragged the suitcase the rest of the way, sometimes carrying it like a giant hard-plastic baby, other times angling it weirdly, trying to use the wheels that still worked. Mentally cursing the entire time, of course. What was supposed to be a short stroll turned into a miserable pilgrimage.
The room I managed to book was tiny, but cozy. A simple bed, warm yellow lighting... It even had some charm. Too bad it cost more than it should have. My budget was already on life support and this improvised stay just pulled the plug. But alright, Jordan. Breathe.
What brought me here, after all? I won a contest! Yes, me — the girl who breaks luggage with her feet — won the chance to intern at Chef Adam Black's restaurant. The man, the myth, the legend... and, they say, an ogre in an apron.
A chance to prove I can do this. That I can be more than just Clumsy Jordan. That I can, with lots of effort, become a chef.
Of course, my brain immediately kicked into sabotage mode. What if I mess everything up? What if he fires me on the first day because... well, because I'm me — a two-legged disaster.
After a depressing fast-food meal (because obviously the hotel's "gourmet" restaurant was reserved for people with money), I returned to the room to relax. But the TV wouldn't turn on, the remote was dead, and I think the manual button didn't even exist. I gave up.
I lay down. The mattress was a mix of cement and sand. The pillow felt like it was stuffed with old sponge. The only thing working was the sound of car alarms outside.
Still, I went to sleep with a stupid smile on my face. Because, in the middle of all this mess... I was heading for a new life.
Will I survive this experience? Will Chef Black think I'm completely useless?
Or worse... what if he's right?
Well, tomorrow is the actual travel day. The official start of my (desperate) attempt to be an adult. Let's see how long the universe lets me pretend I'm competent.
But one thing's for sure: whether it's pots, stumbles, or misunderstandings... this adventure is going to get messy.
I woke up with one of those stomachaches that mix nerves, anxiety, and possibly last night's sketchy food. I could barely look at the hotel breakfast — and yet, I grabbed a mini croissant out of stubbornness. Dry. Obviously.
And because I'm a woman who learns from her mistakes... I decided, once again, to walk to the airport. Yes, with the same broken suitcase. Because saving a few bucks on a taxi makes sense, right? It's not like I'm rolling in cash.
The walk was torture, just like the day before, but I made it — sweaty and ready to throw the suitcase in a dumpster.
I checked my luggage and, since there was still loads of time before boarding, I sat by the gate with my book. Some random romance novel, with a heroine who was unbelievably competent, sexy, and elegant. Basically, everything I wasn't. Still, I let myself get lost in it.
I was finally having a peaceful moment — until they announced the flight delay.
Of course. Because my life is never a straight path. It always comes with detours, layovers, and preferably one or two nerve-wracking hurdles.
The flight was delayed two hours. Meaning I'd arrive at night, in a city I'd never been to, clueless about how to reach the apartment, exhausted, with back pain, and expected to meet the country's most feared chef the next day.
I decided to call the man renting me the studio. The voice on the other end was a middle-aged man with that dragging tone of someone who's lost patience with everything in life — including me, apparently.
"Yes?" he answered, as if I'd interrupted something critically important.
"Good afternoon! This is Jordan Parker. Just letting you know the flight's delayed and I'll arrive later than expected..."
"Right... fine. Just don't ring the doorbell too hard, it wakes the dog."
And he hung up. Great. I already felt super welcome. All that was missing was the dog hating me on arrival and going for my ankle.
I looked around. Happy families, laughing couples, people rushing all over... and there I was, with a rebellious stomach and an uncertain future ahead. As uncertain as the suspicious smell coming from the pastry shop nearby.
I sighed, closed the book, and let my thoughts wander. To Chef Adam Black. Handsome, sure. Intimidating? Definitely. Feared, respected, adored by critics and hated by apprentices. A true kitchen dictator. And I, Jordan Parker, was going to throw myself right under his wing — or rather, his frying pan. Brilliant.
But a part of me — tiny, but stubborn — still believed that maybe... just maybe... this could be the start of something extraordinary. The beginning of a new chapter. My big turning point.
Or maybe... it was just my stomach protesting.
Right then, the loudspeaker announced the opening of the boarding gate at the same time a cramp stabbed through me like an internal knife.
"Fuck," I muttered, bending slightly forward while clutching my abdomen with one hand and trying to grab my backpack with the other.
Everyone around me stood up with excitement, bright eyes and that "finally!" energy. I, on the other hand, was mentally calculating the time until boarding, the location of the airport bathroom, and the odds of fainting in the queue.
Go or not go? Risk it or not?
I chose to trust the gods of aviation. Plane. Just hold out a bit longer. At least this way I wouldn't risk missing the flight after already waiting twenty-six hours too long.
When I finally boarded, I was greeted by a flight attendant with a trained smile.
"Good afternoon."
"Bathroom?" That was my greeting. Simple. Direct. Desperate.
She pointed with British politeness to the back of the plane, and off I went, backpack on, hurried and completely unsubtle, like a panicked penguin. Of course, I was stopped multiple times by people in the aisle looking for their seats.
I reached the bathroom and, well... let's just say it was a moment of spiritual release. And physical. Pre-flight Jordan stayed there. The Jordan who emerged was slightly lighter, a little less tense — and still fully aware that the journey was only beginning.
I returned to my seat, smack in the middle row, between a woman reading a self-help book with gusto and a man who was already snoring before the safety briefing even began. Of course.
I leaned my head back, took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. Tomorrow would be my first day in a completely different world. But for now, I still had four hours of flight ahead.
I breathed deeply. Thought of the kitchen. Thought of Adam Black. Thought... Loud snore from the guy on my right. Yep. It was going to be a long flight.
✨ Author's Note
Jordan has a special talent: disaster follows her around like a loyal puppy 🐕💥
But I hope that through all her stumbles and chaos, she gives you plenty of laughs — chapter after chapter 😂🙈
This won't be your typical romance.
It's going to be a disastrous one, full of humour, some truly epic falls 🧼🛴 and, who knows… maybe a dash of love along the way (well seasoned, of course) 🍲💘
Now tell me:
👉 Have you ever been in a situation so absurd it felt like a scene from a soap opera or a comedy film?
Who knows — maybe Jordan will go through something just like that later on... 😏💡
Oh! And you're only allowed to keep reading if you leave a comment, okay?
Yes, it's emotional blackmail — but the sweet kind 😘💬