Take Out Chef

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter's song: Don't Wanna Know by Maroon 5 ;)

The next few days were like torture. I was worried about Thanksgiving, about the fact that Bryan was coming over for dinner, but mostly because he was stressing the hell out of me at work. He was back to the I'll-annoy-the-crap-out-of-Jessie attitude, being harsh with me in class, making me work twice as everyone else and critiquing my results.

Also, Nadia was still around. Tom left for the week because he was shooting a new episode for his show in the UK, and his girlfriend was his substitute. I had no idea who had come up with that idea, but she didn't really do anything. Other than camp at Bryan's office. All the time.

I never realized that jealousy had a color, but it did. Not just one color, it was more like rainbow-colored. Sometimes I was green with envy, other times I saw red while my blood boiled at her stupid remarks and I sure as hell was orange every time I heard her ridiculous stilettos clicking on the marbled floor until she reached Bryan's office.

The worst part was when she sat on his desk. ON. HIS. DESK. Like, there wasn't a stupid chair right in front of her, grazing her toes as she crossed her legs.

She also wore skirts most days, short enough to almost see the leopard print in her panties as she sauntered to Bryan's office, leaving a nauseating trail of expensive perfume on her way. She sat on his desk, flicked her curly hair, and smiled sickly at him.

Every single day.

I was sick of Nadia.

Sick of Bryan.

Furious at me.

Not a week had passed since we talked and I felt like the whole friendship backfired on me. In the worst way. I was so jealous of Nadia that I was moody and crabby as hell. I paid more attention to her at Bryan's office, than to the endless list of things I had to do.

My life sucked.

The worst part of the week was when Nadia asked Bryan if he had plans for Thanksgiving. Apparently, she was spending it alone and would have loved to have him over her house. She asked it while we were in the middle of a class, as if wasn't outrageous that she was asking her boyfriend's best friend over for dinner. In her stupid house. All alone.

I heard them as I carried a bowl full of whipped cream for the mousse we were making. It fell to the floor making ruckus and a huge mess. Plus, I had to repeat the whole mousse recipe once more.

My blood boiled even more when I noticed Bryan's smirk as he explained that he already had plans. He was smiling as if he found it amusing that she would ask him.

To top it all, the stupid mousse never set properly. And Bryan made me do it one more time.

***

When Friday finally arrived, I wasn't in the festive, let's be-thankful mood, like Juno. She was elated that Bryan was coming over. She hadn't stopped talking about it all week. Her plans included to decorate the house with flowers and pumpkins and whatever ridiculous thing she could think of. She also made a fuss about getting white flowers to decorate the house. The best china, the one her mother passed on to her, the one we weren't supposed to even look at because it could break, was out too.

I didn't complain when Juno gave me the task to chop onions. I embraced it. I cried, letting out all the anger and stress from the week with every slice of the knife. They were perfectly chopped in microscopic pieces that would be hard to spot in the dishes when the doorbell rang.