She flipped through each page, hoping it would tell her how to be more like the real Celia. As if there was some hidden code that could make her less of a mess and more of the perfect person everyone seemed to think she was.
She skimmed through some of the entries, the words blurring together as she tried not to focus on her own reflection.
Her gaze drifted to Celia’s—well, her—hair. Celia’s naturally blonde, wavy hair. Juno’s fingers twitched toward them as she remembered her real dark, straight hair, a mess she could never get right.
Celia’s hair always looked perfectly done. It could have come straight from a shampoo ad, while Juno’s real hair for the last decade was a bird’s nest that never came apart.
She ran her fingers through Celia’s hair, a little too roughly, before deciding on a simple, messy bun.
Maybe that would work. The more she tried to fix it, the more it felt like she was just making it worse. It’s not like she could ask Celia what she normally did with her hair.
Her stomach knotted at the thought. Three days in Celia’s body, and that feeling of being out of place, of never quite fitting, was still there, settling in her bones.
She stared at herself in the mirror, feeling a little ridiculous. Maybe if she looked different, Aaron wouldn’t look at her so... weird.
He’d been staring at her last night, his gaze heavy, like he knew something was off. She shifted uncomfortably in front of the mirror. Maybe if she changed how she looked, she could avoid that awkwardness.
But then, as quickly as the thought came, it slipped away. Wouldn’t changing her appearance make him even more suspicious? What if Celia was the type of girl who never changed her hairstyle?
She sighed, shaking her head. She’d just leave her hair the way it was. Who cared? It wasn’t like it was going to make Aaron stop staring at her that way.
With a sigh, she put the journal back on her desk and headed downstairs. The house smelled faintly of coffee and the leftover scent of bacon and eggs. Their parents were out early. She found Aaron in the kitchen, sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee in front of him.
He looked up when she walked in, but there was something about his eyes, something guarded, that made her feel like she was walking into a storm without an umbrella.
“Morning,” she said, trying to sound normal, but her voice was shaky. At this point, Juno wasn’t quite sure what normal was supposed to sound like anymore.
Aaron gave her a quick smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Morning. You, uh, sleep okay?”
“Yeah,” she replied too quickly. “Fine.”
She glanced at the counter, her mind drifting back to the cocoa recipe. It was an odd one.
Ingredients for Cocoa #3 (Winter Savory Cocoa):
- 2 tablespoons of rich cocoa powder
- 1 tablespoon of honey
- 1 teaspoon of finely chopped fresh winter savory (a herb with a peppery, earthy flavor)
- 1 dash of cinnamon (for warmth)
- 1/4 teaspoon of ground ginger
- 1 drop of vanilla extract
- 1/4 cup of full-fat coconut milk
- 3/4 cup of whole milk (for a smooth, comforting base)
Cocoa mixed with herbs. That was a thing, apparently. Juno had no idea where to even start with that. Herbs? Really? And not just any herb. No, it had to be one called winter savory.
Juno tried to dig through her brain, but it came up blank. Has she heard of it before? Maybe in a gardening catalog? Was it even a thing people used?
If she hadn't woken up as Celia, she’d have probably never even known it existed, let alone figured out it could be paired with cocoa.
Maybe Celia had lost her mind somewhere along the way, mixing cocoa with whatever random plants she found lying around. Was the cocoa obsession messing with her brain, or was this the work of some secret, ancient family tradition she didn’t know about?
Juno let out a deep sigh, blinking hard to shake off the spiraling thoughts. She was still in the kitchen. With Aaron. Who was standing there, all brooding in silence, looking like he was waiting for a deep philosophical discussion when all Juno wanted to do was figure out if "winter savory" was even edible.
She glanced at Aaron’s cup again, trying to think of a way to bring it up without sounding completely out of her element.
“Do we have any herbs growing around here?” she asked, tapping her fingers on the counter nervously. “Like, winter herbs, I guess? For cocoa?”
Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Winter herbs for cocoa? What kind of weird thing are you trying to make now?”
“I don’t know,” Juno said, trying to sound casual, even though she could feel her face burning with embarrassment. Curse you and your cocoa recipes, Celia.
“I’m just... I found this recipe and thought it sounded interesting. It’s—uh, cocoa with, like, herbs. Specifically this thing called winter savory. You know. That sort of thing.”
“Herbs,” Aaron repeated, but there was no mockery in his voice. Just curiosity. “I think the greenhouse at school has something like that. They might have what you're looking for.”
“Really?” Juno asked, trying to keep the hope from creeping into her voice. “I’ll have to check that out, then.”
Deep down, she wasn’t really sure if this mysterious herb even existed. The thought of searching for "winter savory" felt about as ridiculous as everything else she was doing in Celia’s body.
But still, the idea of following through with this strange, possibly insane recipe kept nagging at her. If she got it right, maybe, just maybe, she could stop feeling like she was drifting through someone else’s life.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
She paused for a second, biting her lip. What if she couldn’t do it? What if she missed a day, or messed up the recipe somehow?
Would she be stuck in Celia’s body forever? Or worse, would something happen? Something bad? The thought of waking up back in her own body was both comforting and terrifying.
Was this really just about cocoa, or was there some cosmic consequence for missing a step, some punishment for failing at being Celia?
Juno shook her head, clearing the thoughts from her mind. She didn’t know. But it felt like everything was riding on this weird little recipe.
She turned away from Aaron, about to walk out of the room, but then, suddenly, he was standing right in front of her. She froze, her breath caught in her throat.
“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than it had been the night before, though there was still something about him that felt distant. “Are you sure you're okay?”
Juno didn’t know how to answer. She wanted to say something, anything, that sounded convincing. But all she could do was look at him, feeling her heart pound in her chest.
Aaron placed the back of his hand against her forehead, as if checking for a fever, and Juno’s entire body went rigid.
It was like a scene out of one of those rom-coms she’d always rolled her eyes at. The ones where the awkward, fumbling character gets close to their love interest, and suddenly everything goes quiet.
Except, in this case, it wasn’t some fictional movie moment. This was real. And she was definitely not ready for it.
Her heart skipped a beat. No, more like three. Maybe four. She blinked, praying her face didn’t betray the absolute chaos happening inside her.
“I’m fine,” she blurted, her voice coming out way too fast, a little too high-pitched. She cleared her throat. “I’m just... I’m just making cocoa. I’ll be fine.”
Her brain was doing somersaults, but Aaron didn’t move. No. He just stood there, his hand still against her forehead, and she could practically feel the awkwardness wrapping around them like a thick, suffocating blanket.
Every inch of space between them seemed to vanish, and she was suddenly hyper-aware of every little detail: the sound of her breathing, the pulse in her neck, the ridiculous warmth of his hand on her forehead. It was all too much.
“I’ll—uh, I’ll just make it at school,” she added, desperate to escape the weird, tender moment. She took a step back, but her foot stumbled slightly. Of course. Perfect timing, Juno. Smooth.
“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine,” she said, avoiding his eyes. But before she could make her grand escape, she heard the faintest hint of a chuckle from Aaron. It was soft, as if he was trying not to laugh at her, and it made her even more flustered.
“Alright,” he said, still smiling, though there was something else in his eyes. Something different this time.
Juno felt it hit her like a wave. He wasn’t worried about her. He was confused, maybe even disappointed. But he didn’t know how to ask her what was wrong, and neither did she.
She rushed out of the room, barely sparing him another glance, and the door clicked shut behind her. She could still feel the heat of his hand on her forehead, still feel his eyes on her.
She took a deep breath, pushing all of it away. She had to focus on the cocoa. She had to.
Aaron watched her go, his expression softening again. He smiled and waved. But the moment the door shut behind her, his smile slipped away, replaced by a far more distant look.
He turned back to the kitchen table and sat down, staring into his now cold coffee. He slammed his hand on the table in frustration, sending a splash of coffee onto the wood.
The school day passed in a blur, but when Juno finally found herself in an empty home economics room with Marie, she felt like she could breathe again.
Marie was already busy at the counter, unpacking something that smelled oddly like dirt and herbs.
“I got it!” Marie exclaimed, holding up a small bundle of dried leaves with a little white flower poking out in the middle. “Winter savory! Found it in the greenhouse. Just in time too! And, may I say, your Project 365 recipes are wild. How did you know this stuff would go with cocoa?”
Juno blinked, trying to wrap her brain around what was happening. She was still in a semi-panic about what she was doing. How much could she actually trust that Celia’s weird recipe concoctions would not poison them both?
Marie was still staring at her, the tiny plant clutched in her hands. Juno’s laugh came out too high-pitched. “Yeah, of course it’s edible! I wouldn’t make it if it wasn’t,” she said, realizing too late that she sounded absolutely defensive for no reason.
Marie glanced from the bundle to Juno, then back to the plant. She gave a half-hearted shrug. “If you say so, Celia. So, is it like... sweet? Or earthy?” she asked, clearly unfazed as she rifled through a small plastic bag they had picked up during their convenience store run earlier.
Juno’s brain stalled for a moment. Time to improvise, as usual. “Uh, yeah! It’s kind of sweet, but with a peppery kick. Like, it’s got that cinnamon thing going on with cocoa, but, you know, better.”
Marie’s eyebrows raised, impressed. “Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed that. You sure know your stuff, Celia.”
Juno felt a faint flush creeping up her neck. She wasn’t sure if it was because she was lying through her teeth, or if it was because Marie had, for a brief second, looked at her like she actually knew what she was doing.
They worked together, measuring out the ingredients, and Juno was clumsy, like always. She spilled the cocoa powder on the counter, then dropped a spoon, then made a face when the milk started to boil over.
Marie laughed, but it was warm and encouraging, and Juno found herself relaxing a little. She might not have known what she was doing, but at least Marie was there, making it seem like maybe she wasn’t the only one who didn’t have a clue.
Finally, they finished the cocoa, and Juno took a cautious sip. It was surprisingly good. Not sweet, but soothing, with a hint of earthiness that made it taste warm and comforting.
Just as she was about to savor another sip, she noticed Aaron walking past the classroom window, talking to two other boys. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and for a split second, Aaron smiled.
But then it disappeared, like it was never there, and he quickly turned away, his posture stiffening.
Juno’s stomach dropped. What had just happened? Why had his smile disappeared so fast?
“Hey,” Marie said suddenly, her voice quiet. “I noticed your stepbrother walked by just now. He looked... weird. He didn’t stop like he used to.”
Juno felt the flutter in her chest, something unsteady inside her. She tried to ignore it, but the unease was still there.
Marie leaned in, noticing her confusion. “Didn’t your stepbrother used to stop by here all the time? Like last year, remember? He helped you with that one long recipe way after school was over.”
Juno’s heart skipped a beat. “He... used to come here?”
“Of course. You don’t remember?” Marie asked, raising an eyebrow. “He stayed with you for ages. A little weird that he wouldn’t at least say hi. Didn’t you usually give him cocoa?”
Marie turned back to the pot, gave the cocoa a gentle stir. “You could bring him some now,” she said casually, smiling at the sweet herbal smell wafting from the pot.
Juno stared at the mug in her hand, just waiting for the cocoa to finish, but her tight grip on it gave her away. The idea of walking out there, cup in hand, offering it to Aaron like some kind of peace treatymade her stomach twist.
Just now after that smile, he had that quiet, unreadable stare that made her feel like he knew. Like he could see it. That she wasn’t Celia.
Maybe he didn’t know exactly what was wrong. Maybe he hadn’t put it together. But he had been searching her face for proof of something she wasn’t sure she could fake.
Her chest felt tight. The kitchen felt too warm suddenly.
She shook her head. “Nah. He probably won’t like this type of cocoa,” she muttered, too quickly.
Marie glanced over her shoulder, one eyebrow still up, but didn’t push. “Suit yourself.”
Juno felt a sinking feeling in her chest. A sharp pang of guilt twisted inside her. By being in Celia’s body, she was doing more than just swapping places with her.
She was messing up everything that had been normal between Aaron and Celia. And now it was all falling apart in ways she didn’t know how to fix.
All because of some damn cocoa.