Baggage

{Chapter Five}

Chapter Five

The turkey was burnt.

Not just burnt. Gray smoke swirled above the turkey, then spiraled and spiraled and spiraled until it hit the fire alarm. Noah had scurried and pulled the fire extinguisher from the cabinet below the sink, but there was no hope.

His dinner was ruined.

"Shoot," he cursed himself while lifting the pan that held the grotesque-looking bird from the oven. Smoke continued to diffuse throughout the kitchen. 

Noah never could cook. He had fast food restaurants on speed dial on his iPhone, and he ate out five or six times a week. On Sundays, he was accustomed to eating with the Weavers at their humble abode. Ironically, even though he knew that he only had the capability to boil water, he still suggested to make dinner for Shannon and her sister.

Her sister.

Noah ran a hand through his hair. How could he manage to keep face while his insides were gnawed by guilt? Luckily, he rarely had to hear about or see Violet, but on those rare occasions when he did, he nearly spat out his lunch.

Am I such a shitty person that I deserve this mess? Noah gestured angrily to the bird but also to his current situation.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Violet pulled at the hem of her knitted dress that she had borrowed from her best friend for this occasion. Most of her dresses were only an inch past her hips or were very revealing at the top. She did have one dress, in particular, that she used to wear to these outings until Charlie had rudely commented that Violet looked sickly in it. 

So, this is why Violet Weaver was wearing an oversized rag of a dress tonight accompanied with a horrid smell.

Maybe this will scare Noah off, and I won't have to stay more than ten minutes tops!, she thought to herself, taking a whiff of her outfit. 

Just as she was about to knock a fourth time, the door opened in front of her. Wearing a crisp cream-colored shirt and khaki pants was Noah Anderson, her sister's beloved boy toy. Violet leered him over, noticing that he had soot at the top of his pants and his eyes had a glazed look to them. She forced a smile onto her face. 

"Hey, Vi," he paused, "Violet. Come on in. Shannon's running a little late I assume, but I bet she'll be here in a few minutes." He stood there for a minute staring before stepping aside to let the petite blonde in.

"Uhh," she coughed into her left sleeve, "thanks for letting me know. And for cooking."

Noah grimaced, his eyes darting towards the kitchen. Violet wondered why he was acting stranger than usual. However, her question was answered when she took a waft of the smoke seeping from the kitchen. A lop-side grin slowly inched onto her mouth.

"Or maybe I should rephrase that. Thanks for attempting to cook," she jested before coughing from the fumes. The horrid stench of the smoke tainted most of the air in his apartment.

Noah rubbed the back of his neck, biting his lip. "Yeah, didn't go so well. 

Violet rolled her eyes. That was an understatement. The apartment reeked, the bird was almost burnt to ashes, and a huge grease stain was the centerpiece of his table. 

"I can cook if you want," she suggested, her eyes continuing to survey the room. "That is, unless you have another meal already in the oven."

The man gulped. "No, no, no! Please go ahead. I didn't know that you could cook."