OCEAN EYES ☾ { TROY BOLTON }

5 ~ 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚕𝚜 & 𝚌𝚛𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚜

𝐶𝑈𝐿𝐼𝑁𝐴𝑅𝑌 class turned out to be more enjoyable then Hayden could've imagined. Her instructor, who insisted the class so solely address him as Chef, had been rather chill as opposed to the stereotypical portraits in the movies. The period mostly consisted of him explaining the basics of the course—no talking when he does, no changing the recipes once given, and most importantly, no taking home any equipment—specifically knives.

He went on to tell a story about how one feeble-minded boy a few years back named Aaron, hadn't completed his dish in class and considering it was a big grade, begged to finish it at home and return it the next day perfected. Chef allowed him to do so, though with the boy's record of consistently screwing things up, he knew something was likely to go wrong.

And he was certainly right.

Aaron alleged he didn't have any appropriate knives at home to make the proper cut for his meat, so he took it upon himself to simply borrow one of Chef's, that mind upon, he'd never used before. It was an obsidian knife—one of the sharpest knives in the world, in the hands of the most irresponsible teens in the world, apart from Jimmie lee Zara, of course.

Long story short, the boy ended up in the nearest hospital that night, lying down on an examination table with a nurse sewing his thumb and index finger back on. He had learned his lesson but ultimately received a D minus on his assignment. The one thing Chef took from the whole incident was to from then on, lock his knives up in a dummy-proof case and store it in the highest space possible. Since doing so, there hadn't been any more bloody occurrences; thus his idea turning out for the best.

Hayden found the whole ordeal quite amusing. Chuck steak wasn't that hard to cut. He would have been just fine with using a sharp chef's knife. The guy beside her also seemed to find the story entertaining. The giggles that slipped from him throughout Chef telling the story weren't as silent as he tried to make them out to be by covering his mouth.

Once the syllabus containing all the materials needed to purchase for the class, such as non-slip shoes and an apron was passed out, Chef allowed everyone to quietly talk amongst themselves. Not knowing anyone in the class to talk to, Hayden chose to read over her syllabus to pass the time. As she did so, the giggly-boy next to her let out a scoff as his doe-like eyes roamed the paper.

"What the . . . homework forty-five percent of our grade? What if my dog were to eat it—I mean, would that count as a viable enough excuse for a pass, cause my German shepherd is pretty damn greedy."

Hayden shrugged, glancing back down at her own paper. "You know, that's actually a really good point. You should give it a try. Make sure to take pictures though so Chef will know its legitimate."

He nodded, lips puckered as he took in the compelling proposition from the grinning girl to the left of him. "I'll keep that mind should a hard assignment come up," He slid the paper in his bag before holding out a wide hand. "I'm Zeke, by the way."

The look on Hayden's face was one of wonder as she brought her hand into his coarse grip. "Hayden . . . and Zeke, as in, unbelievably good chocolate chip cookies, Zeke?"

The curly-haired boy offered a wary chuckle as his brows knitted, "What?"

"I'm new around here, and my now friend and neighbor Martha, brought over some nice hospitality in the form of cookies—chocolate chip to be exact."

He inclined his head, recognition flashing on his toned face. "Ohh, Martha. Yeah, I kind of owed her after she helped me study for a Math test. Without her, I'd probably still be taking that thing to this day."

Hayden thought back to her conversation with Martha at the restaurant and vividly remembered her mentioning she had a thing for the distasteful subject. She still couldn't comprehend how someone could so willingly choose to do it during their free time, which could be spent doing much more exciting things. She guessed the subject just spoke to some people—people that most certainly weren't her.