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Chapter 29: Take Me to Church

Chapter 29: Take Me to Church

January

I haven't seen Peyton since I gave her Cash's ballsack in a box.

I don't think she was too happy about that, to be honest. I mean she thought the trucknutz part was kind of funny, but it was the other thing that seemed to bother her.

I was excited to talk to her, but the more I think about it, the more  annoyed I get. I don't understand why she can't see what this is like for me. I can't just sit by and watch that fucker bully people. It had to be done.

By the time I get to fifth period, I'm ready to hash this all out so she can see my side of things.

"Well, well, well. Smoothie queen returns," Ms. Pickle says when Peyton walks in the door.

"Yes Ma'am. Sorry about my absence. I guess I need to get caught up."

Pickle sniffs. Today's apron features two mini pickles in hard-hats, hands on their hips...if pickles have hips. Underneath them reads, Gherkin hard or hardly gherkin?

She nods, looks over at me, and says, "Jack will catch you up to speed."

Peyton turns to face me.

Damn. It's hard to be mad at her when she looks at me with those eyes.

I smile. "Hey."

"Hey."

"You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"Alright, people. Go get your stations set up. Today we'll continue our hot food prep. And when I say mince, I mean mince, not dice!"

"What's the difference?" Peyton asks under her breath.

"Behold the master at work." I pick up the garlic clove and place it on the cutting board. Then I position the flat of the knife over it, giving it a hard smack.

"I think you smashed it..."

"Watch and learn, Thomas. Watch and learn."

I free the thin skin from the clove and remove it on one gesture. Then the mincing commences.

As my hands move the knife up and down, I feel her watching me, her breath on my skin. It smells like cinnamon candy. My elbow lightly brushes her arm. She inches closer, so her thigh is resting against mine.

Focus on the garlic.

"See, you want it small, so it cooks all the way through. Nothing worse than raw garlic."

"Can I try?"

I hesitate before handing her the knife. "You sure I'm safe?" I raise an eyebrow and smile.

"Yes, smartass. I'm not going to stab you."

"Okay, just don't slice off your finger."

"Got it."

She smacks the garlic super hard. Probably overkill. When she lifts the knife, it's practically pounded into the cutting board. She's having trouble picking the skin from the clove, trying to avoid getting garlic juice all over her hands. I gaze over at her face set in concentration as she bites her lip. God, she's so beautiful.

"I missed you," I say.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. So, about my package..."

She stares down at the cutting board, cheeks flushing, and nods. "What about it?"

"What'd you do with it?" I ask.