Who I Once Was (Book Three in the 'Small Town Girl' Series)

Chapter Thirteen: The World

Luckily everyone agreed, so we were having an impromptu dinner party with a guest list consisting of Corey and Topanga, Shawn and Katie, Jess and Joseph Friar, Carl and Lynn Babineaux, Stuart and Jennifer Minkus, and then, obviously, Riley, Maya, Lucas, Zay, and Farkle. Vanessa had opted out, insisting that Zay needed time alone with his friends and she needed a bubble bath.

Since the conversation about my eating habits for the past few years, I decided to do the cooking while Dad got the house set up and prepared for us to have company. I decided to make Chicken Fried Steak, Mashed Potatoes, Green Beans, and I saved the cookies I made this morning for dessert.

I was mixing the mashed potatoes when the doorbell rang, signalling our first guests had arrived. Dad ran over, pulling the door open.

"Hey, kids! You're early."

"We just wanted to stop by, see if you guys needed any help, with this whole thing being last minute." I looked up as Dad stepped aside and allowed Riley, Lucas, and Farkle to step into the house.

"Oh! That was nice of you guys!" He said. "Yeah, I could use some help setting the table out in the back yard." Dad looked at me. "Skip, you need any help?"

"Maybe a little, but for the most part I've got it." I stated.

"Ok, um...why don't-"

"Mr. Jackson, before you say that, can I please just stop you from making a decision that will make for a very awkward dinner party, and sticking both women in the kitchen." Riley said. I narrowed my eyes at her, knowing full well that her intentions had nothing to do with feminism. "Lucas and I will help you. Besides, Farkle's a great cook. Come on, boys." She grabbed Lucas and my father's arms, pulling them out the back yard. Farkle looked at me and I just shook my head, sighing.

"Since when do you cook?" I asked. He shrugged.

"You know me. I like learning things." He walked over to the sink, his arm brushing against my back as he went before washing his hands and coming over to stand beside me. "What do you need?"

"Ok, can you open the oven and stick the thermometer in one of the steaks and tell me what it says?" He grabbed the thermometer, opening the oven and doing as I said.

"145 degrees Fahrenheit?" He reported.

"Ok, so those are good, can you put the oven on warm and just leave them in there?" He did as I said and I turned around, going to the spice cabinet to get the seasoning I needed. I grabbed the salt and pepper, putting them on the island and then went back for the onion salt. It was on the very top shelf, and I stood on my toes struggling to reach it. "I swear, my Dad puts stuff here just to spite me."

"You need some help?" Farkle questioned, stepping closer to me. I waved him off politely climbing onto the counter so that I was on my knees on top of it. "This seems like a bad idea..."

"Farkle, I was in rodeos as a kid, I've done far more dangerous things then climb on a counter." I pointed out, grabbing the garlic salt. I went to climb down, but instead of doing so, a pair of hands grabbed my waist, gently lifting me off of the counter and putting me down on the floor. I turned to face him.

"What? I wanted to help." He said. "You should've let me get it, this height has to be good for something other than wooing the ladies." I scoffed, rolling my eyes and pushing his hands away, which had remained on my waist longer than necessary. 

"I thought you said you didn't do much wooing." I reminded him.

"Oh no, I do plenty of wooing. All of those ladies, those charity gala dates, thoroughly wooed. I just never follow through. It never goes beyond the wooing stage."