Young Blood

Chapter Seven

I didn’t bother talking to John or Paul when I arrived home. I had to get ready right away. My classes got over around four today, so that only left me about four hours to get ready until Ritchie was going to pick me up. I had even less time because I had spent about ten minutes talking to him after school, and another twenty walking home. I only had three and a half hours at this point, and that meant that I had to rush to do everything.

  I know that you’re thinking three and a half hours is plenty of time to get ready to go somewhere. But you don’t understand how perfect I needed to be for Ritchie. He himself was perfect, a flawless being amongst the normality of university teachers and adults everywhere. I knew that I couldn’t outdo his perfection, but I was going to damn well try. 

  I rushed to make myself some kind of meal to serve as dinner. We probably weren’t going to be eating after the theater because the movie wouldn’t start until around 8:15, so I had to eat something now unless I wanted to starve the entire night. I quickly whipped up some mac n’ cheese on the stove, feeling all too much like a housewife. I never cooked anything, so this was a strange feeling for me.

  Sensing another presence in the room, I turned around and was face to face with none other than John. He had a confused expression on his face, raising an eyebrow and looking at me like I were some exotic species.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. 

  “Making dinner… what does it look like?”

  John raised his hands in defense. “Nothing, nothing…”

  “Uhm… alright then.” I went back to work, stirring the pasta in the pot to make sure it didn’t stick together as it cooked.

  “It’s just a little… odd that you’re making dinner.”

  “Odd?” 

  “Well, yes…” John trailed off, “I’ve never seen you make a single meal for yourself before.”

  “Well I am now, aren’t I?” I smiled.

  “That’s exactly why it’s odd.”

  I stared at him blankly. “Will you just let me make my dinner?” I snapped.

  “Why are you making your own dinner tonight, Georgie?” he asked, and I could tell he knew something that would probably upset me. He was holding back a smirk.

  “Don’t you have to go fuck Paul or something?” Ooh, that was harsh. I regretted snapping at John like that, but he was bothering me. I was just in a bad mood, that was all. My macaroni was taking a little longer than I’d liked it to have taken to cook, and now John was pestering me about pointless little things like why I was making the macaroni in the first place. I was just cranky.

  “Rude, rude,” John’s smirk grew, and now I knew he was too involved in something else to care about the fact that I had just brutally insulted him. If he were in any other mood, he would have kicked my ass so badly I would be in the hospital for weeks.

  “What’s got you so happy?” I asked. I checked the clock. Ugh, finally. My macaroni was done. I turned the stove off and pulled the pot off of the now non-existent flame. I stirred a few more times and added cheese for flavoring.

  “Nothing…” John’s grin was even wider, making one of his signature goofy faces before walking over to the fridge and grabbing a coca cola. 

  “You’re happy about something, and it’s pissing me off.” I walked over to the cabinet and grabbed a bowl for my macaroni.

  “Yes, I know why you’re making your own dinner.”