Chapter nineteen

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Okay, well, shit.

Today was Saturday which meant I had to cook for my 'friends'.

I wasn't looking forward to it and I doubted neither did they.

They had also all collectively agreed and decided that they were going to stay the night at my house.

And on top of that, they were all going to bring alcohol, Maekos excuse for it was 'If were going to die from your cooking, I'd much prefer I do so drunk,' I'd rolled my eyes as soon as the message had delivered to my phone.

But it was free alcohol. I wouldn't complain.

The only reason I'd agreed with it, though, was because Elliot was staying at his friends house and my mom claimed she was staying at her friends house, too.

Not that I cared if my mother was going to be in the house or not.

I had decided on cooking carbonara pasta, mainly because it was pasta and I couldn't think of many ways I could fuck that up, but also because I wanted to convert them all to carbonara over their other favourite shitty pastas.

They would be coming soon, I needed to start.

I huffed out a quick but determined sigh as I transferred the black hair tie from my wrist to my dark wavy hair.

After I had securely tied my hair back, my phone lit up as it pinged beside me.

It was a message from Devon, "fifty-nine minutes guys. It's been nice knowing you,"

Fucking dickheads, the lot of them.

At that point, they made me want to make the pasta taste like dog shit, just to watch their laughs and taunts fade from their lips.

But competitiveness was far more pleasuring then that.

The main problem, though, was what Devon had just stated. I had fifty-nine minutes to prepare the carbonara and I had no fucking clue how to make it, nor where to start.

I figured following an online recipe would work.

I unplugged my phone from its charger and clicked on the first recipe that popped up.

How the fuck did it expect me to do that?

I clicked the next recipe, then the next, then the next until I decided to just do it because all of the previous recipes were pretty much the same and I wouldn't be finding a children's version or easier version any time soon.

I started by putting the pasta into the boiling water and attempted to do various other things. It was bloody stressful and needless to say, gave me a headache.

I was never going to be cooking again.

But it was fine, because if Azael Keres could cook then anyone could do it.

As I tried doing those various other things while the pasta cooked, a brief thought passed along through my mind. A non important thought, of course.

Could pasta burn?

I thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged and continued on with my task.

And then I really thought about it.

I turned the heat down.


One hour later I was willing to shoot myself.

It had taken me one hour. One fucking hour. To make it.

Mainly because it took me two attempts but at least the pasta looked edible. Looked being the keyword. The smell was questionable.

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