Chapter Twenty-Five
Natalie
I whirled around the kitchen, trying to figure out what I needed to do next. The chicken was in the oven roasting with the potatoes and the carrots, and I had pasta boiling on the stove. I checked the cookbook for what seemed the hundredth time that hour. The recipe called for pasta cooked al dente, but I had no idea how to make sure.
“Fuck,” I blurted under my breath. “This is a nightmare.”
Just then, the timer went off on the oven, and I rushed forward to check the chicken. I opened it up and bent down. The carrots and potatoes looked golden and delicious, but the chicken looked practically anemic. I was nervous about leaving it in the oven for much longer though, especially because the vegetables were done, so I decided to take it out just to be safe.
I turned off the oven and then remembered that I needed to take my pasta out of the water. I had grown familiar with Chance’s kitchen, but that still didn’t mean I had developed any talent for actually using anything in it. The countertops were a mess, and the sink was already filled with pots and pans that I couldn’t even remember using.
“Why did I insist on cooking dinner,” I moaned.
I drained the pasta and put it into a bowl. I tried to check to see how my pasta was cooked and ended up burning one of my fingers. Then I got out my phone and Googled what to do if your chicken had no color and looked undercooked. One site suggested popping the chicken into a skillet and cooking it in some olive oil on the stovetop until it was cooked through.
Liking that idea, I grabbed another frying pan, added some oil and transferred the chicken. I put it on a low fire and let it cook through slowly. I decided to try and clean up a bit before Chance got home. I had made quite the mess, and even though I knew he wouldn’t mind, I didn’t want him to come home to that. He had another departmental meeting today, and those kinds of meetings usually ran late.
I was just about to start washing up everything in the sink when I heard a call come through. Believing it was Chance, I jumped to answer it, but I saw Missy’s name instead of Chance’s.
“Hello, stranger,” she said, the moment I picked up. “You recognize me? We used to be roommates once, a very long time ago. You probably don’t remember.”
I smiled. “You were always the dramatic one,” I said. “We’re still roommates.”
“Please, it’s been almost a month since you got back from Paris and ever since you got back, you’ve been practically living with Chance. I barely ever see you.”
“Oh, come on, we saw each other yesterday,” I reminded her.
“For like two seconds,” she said. “You said hi as you grabbed a bag and headed over to Chance’s place.”
“He was cooking me dinner,” I said. “I wanted to be punctual.”
“You mean you wanted to get to his place soon so that you could have wild sex on his kitchen table.”
I laughed. “I’m sorry, I know I’ve been a bit preoccupied lately. I haven’t been around much … I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“You will?” she asked. “How?”
I laughed. “Can I think on it?”
“No, I want promises,” she said. “I miss my best friend.”
“I miss you, too.”
“Bull,” Missy said, but I could tell she was amused. “You’re too in love with your hot professor to notice anyone else.”
“Hey, cut me some slack,” I said, without bothering to deny it. “He’s my first love.”
“Tell me again.”
“Tell you about?”
“Paris,” Missy said with a wistful sigh.
“I’ve already told you everything about Paris.”
“So, tell me again,” she demanded. “I have to resort to living vicariously through you because of my highly disappointing love life.”
“You have a disappointing love life?” I said, in disbelief. “Please.”
“It’s true,” she insisted. “These college boys are so immature, irritating, and completely inept. I should have done what you did and got myself a hot professor of my own.
“There’s still time,” I reminded her. “We have one semester left.”
“I know, but I’ve checked out all my professors, and none of them are worth my attention. There is one hot lecturer I’ve got, but unfortunately, she’s a woman and even more unfortunate is the fact that I don’t swing that way. But I’ll tell you something; I’m desperate enough to give it a shot.”
I rolled my eyes. “If a real man is what you’re looking for, you’ll find one soon enough once we’ve graduated. I hear that the real world is full of them.”
“One can only hope,” she said wistfully.
I laughed at Missy’s longing tone, but secretly, I was thrilled to be envied. I was just about to ask Missy about the last guy she had dated when she spoke.
“Actually… there’s a reason I called.”
“Oh?” I asked curiously.
“It’s Jason.”
“Jason?” I said, in surprise. “What about him?”
“He came over last night looking for you.”
“Seriously?” I said, shocked that he still hadn’t gotten the message. “I really thought he would have given up by now.”
“Me, too, but he still seems as determined as ever. It was around eleven at night when he dropped by, and you were at Chance’s place,” Missy replied. “He asked to speak to you, and when I told him you weren’t in, he asked where you were.”
“Geez, the guy can’t take a hint,” I said, shaking my head. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him you were visiting your parents for the weekend,” she replied. “But for some reason, he acted as though I was lying.”
“You were lying,” I reminded her.
“Sure, but he didn’t know that.”
“Maybe you weren’t convincing,” I suggested.
“Um…yeah, sure,” she said sarcastically. “That’s the reason.”
“You’re right,” I nodded, half amused by her reaction. “You’re a fantastic liar.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “But even my best work didn’t seem to work on Jason. He gave me a little attitude, as well.”
“Did he swear at you?” I demanded, immediately worried.
“Nah,” she said. “And if he had, I would have kicked his little ass to the curb, but his reaction did bother me a little.”
“I’m sure,” I nodded. “It’s confronting when people are rude to you.”
“Not because he was rude to me,” she said in exasperation. “I don’t give a shit that he was rude to me. What worried me was how diligently he persisted with the questioning.”
“He questioned you?”
“It was like he was trying to catch me in the lie,” Missy said. “But apart from that, there’s something about this guy that’s just…wrong.”
“Wrong?”
“He’s so…”
“Intense?” I suggested.
“Exactly,” she agreed. “That’s the word: intense. And trust me, in this case, it’s not a good thing. I think the guy might be a little off the rails.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “I mean, I know he can come on a little strong, but I don’t think he’s crazy.”
“Hey, crazy doesn’t always look crazy,” Missy told me. “Sometimes it’s masked behind a plain and unassuming face.”
“And, your point would be?”
“Just because Jason looks harmless doesn’t mean he is harmless.”
“I’ve made my feelings clear, I’ve told him plain as day that I’m just not interested in him,” I said. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“I think you should put in a complaint.”
“What?”
“A complaint,” Missy repeated. “Report him to your student counselor. Maybe he’ll back off if someone in a place of authority tells him to. Tell him if he doesn’t leave you alone you’ll get a restraining order against him.”
I paused for a moment. “Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?”
“No,” she replied immediately. “If this guy can’t take a hint, then you need to hit him between the eyes – and hard.”
“He hasn’t really bothered me since before Paris,” I said. “And, all he did was come by the dorm. That doesn’t really constitute grounds for legal action.”
“So, you’re going to wait till he kidnaps you or something?” she demanded. “Stalking is illegal, you realize.”
“We don’t know that’s he’s been stalking me.”
“He seems like the type who would.”
“If he approaches me again, I will report him,” I decided. “But for now, I think I just need to lie low and ignore him.”
“Okay…” Missy said uncertainly. “I still think you should report him immediately, but it’s your call.”
“Anyway, thanks for handling him.”
“No worries,” she said. “That’s what best friends are here for…even if you dumped me for your hot professor.”
“I did not dump you.” I laughed. “I wouldn’t dump you for the world.”
“Sure, sure,” she said, in a wounded voice.
“How about lunch tomorrow?” I asked. “We can get a couple of pizzas from the Stone Oven, and we can relax and talk about everything under the sun.”
“Ah, the old days…”
“Stop that.”
She laughed. “You’re on,” she said. “Just don’t bail on me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I promised.
“So, where’s Prince Charming anyway?” she asked. “I assume because you have the luxury of chatting with me that he’s not home yet.”
“He had a departmental meeting he needed to attend,” I told her.
“Man, he’s such a grown up.”
I laughed. “He’s amazing.”
“You are so lucky, Nat.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” I said. “Even after all these months, I can’t quite believe that he’s actually interested in me.”
“Interested in you?” she repeated. “He’s in love with you, Nat.”
“I know,” I said, and I sounded like an infatuated teenager.
“When do I get to meet him?”
“Urgh…”
She laughed. “Oh, come on, you’ve been dating him for months now. He took you to freaking Paris, you guys are well into relationship status, and the next step is meeting the friends.”
“I know,” I nodded. “But I don’t want to spook him. It was hard enough for him to admit he loved me.”
“The brooding types can be like that sometimes.”
“He’s not brooding,” I said. “He’s just serious.”
Missy laughed. “So anyway, if he’s not at home, what are you doing all by your lonesome?”
I groaned in exasperation. “I’m attempting to cook a meal for him.”
“And by that tone, I’m assuming it’s going well,” she said sarcastically.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admitted. “I think I’ve destroyed his kitchen.”
She laughed. “You really do love this guy, to have braved the kitchen for him. What are you cooking?”
“Pasta,” I said. “In memory of our Parisian adventure. And chicken with veggies.”
As I finished my sentence, I remembered the chicken that I had put on the stove just before Missy had called. “Oh no,” I gasped, as I ran towards the stove. It was only then that I became aware of the warning signs my other senses were giving me.
By the time I reached the stovetop, the chicken was well and truly burnt. “Fuck!” I yelled at myself.
“Disaster in the kitchen?”
“I burnt the chicken,” I sighed. “What do I do?”
“Stay away from cooking,” she advised me seriously. “And next time, order in.”
I stared sadly at my burnt chicken and nodded. “That’s good advice,” I said. “Especially for me. I guess I’ll have to find another way to make this up to Chance.”
“Take out?”
“Sex.”
Missy was quiet for a second and then she burst out laughing. “Man, you are a changed woman. I’m so proud.”
Burnt chicken aside, for just a moment, I was proud, too.