Black Elm College | 18+

Chapter 11: Elsie

S-D History really just feels like another class. Yates warned that he wouldn't ask anything too harsh in the forthcoming classes and that he would only be dealing with History in this hour of resumption, and rightly so. Apart from the fact that Tim was sitting next to me, watching my every move, everyone just listened to him talk about the beginnings of the Cold War. But that will change for sure, as I have an hour of S-D on Monday, Wednesday and Friday either about History or Geography every week.

As soon as we get home, the devil drags me to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

"We're making Ratatouille." He states, going through the cupboards. "Have you ever cooked?"

I lean against the counter, shrugging. "Of course. I never prepared anything for eight people but yes."

"Okay." He checks the recipe on his phone, weaving a hand through his hair, opens the fridge and puts a couple of vegetables in front of me. "Wash these, cut the tomatoes into quarters and the eggplant into cubes. I'll take care of the onion and the peppers."

I roll up my sleeves. "Yes, sir."

He switches on a speaker and the notes of background music echo through the room. I wash what he gave me then take a long knife in my hand and start chopping. After a moment, I turn around, surprised he hasn't moved.

"Are you letting me do all the work?"

God, I should have minded my own business. He has a red apron on. That, paired with his long-sleeve white shirt that hides nothing of his muscles and his disheveled hair, he is my definition of hot.

Is there air conditioning here? You know, to prevent the heat pooling between my thighs?

He smirks, not totally oblivious to me checking him out. "Do you have a scrunchie? My hair is getting in the way, I really need to get a haircut."

I go back to cutting the vegetables to get my embarrassment under control. "No, I don't." There are some in my bedroom but do I want him there? Not really. "I have two in my hair actually and I washed it yesterday. You can take one if you want."

I was planning to finish cutting the tomato, wash my hands and give it to him myself, but when I feel his hands in my hair, I realize he has a different thing in mind.

"Ouch!" I protest.

"Damn, this stuff is way too tight."

I just huff and let him struggle. After a few more seconds, he finally gets it out of my hair. A moment passes and when I turn around again, I have to bite my lip to keep myself from bursting out laughing. Half the hair at the front of his head is in the neon orange scrunchie and he managed to tangle the rest.

"Oh my god, you look..." I can't contain my laugh anymore.

"I look amazing." He retorts, glaring at me.

"Yeah, sure. Amazing. Amazing is the word I was looking for. You're so handsome, I'm going to faint."

"Right?" When I don't answer, he repeats, taunting. "Right, Elsie?"

"Fishing, are we?" He stays silent. I scoff. "Come on, you don't need my compliments to know you could be a model. Look in the mirror."

"Aw, stop, you'll make me blush." He says in a girly voice. I just shake my head, laughing and keep working on the tomato.

"Okay." I say when I'm done. "What now?"

"Hum..." He checks his phone. "Let me finish. You can take out a frying pan and put olive oil in it, but we need to start with the peppers."

I nod, wash my hands and proceed.

"So how do you know ratatouille? Are you a rat or..."

He looks at me like I've lost my mind. "I'm not a rat. What the hell are you talking about?"