I have one question. Just one. What is a girl supposed to do when a friend delivers Blueberry Muffins to their apartment?
And not just any random muffins from a random grocery store. No- these were from my soon to be work place. My favorite thing at said workplace. My favorite breakfast snack. Blueberry fucking muffins.
So once again I ask: what's a girl to-do? Do they send him a heart-filled text message? No, I don't think I could if I wanted to anyway. I don't have said friend's number. Do they ask said friend's sister to pass her brothers digits so I could thank him? Maybe, but I still needed to fully think that one out. Or do they wait until they get to school and just plant a big one on him? A big thankful kiss on him? Again, I don't agree with this one either because i needed to remind myself that we were friends and friends don't kiss.
And I had to repeat that same thought over and over inside my head yesterday too, when I saw him at Target. Yes, I went to Target after I was done with my whole introduction, opening process at Right by the Oven. Yes, I only went to see if I could get a peek at Vance. And I was right about my suspicions- he was there, at Target, in the underwear section. I hit it right on the head. And it seemed like something hit him right on the head as he turned his head around to greet me. I spooked him. Maybe it was because I was hiding behind one of the clothes racks? I wasn't being stalker-ish. I was trying to come up with a greeting other than cool. But then he spotted me in the mirror and that started a ten minute conversation. Also, it wasn't awkward as I thought it would be either. We even got in a laugh at some point.
We were officially friends.
And friends don't kiss. Friends don't think about kissing other friends. But do friends send Blueberry muffins to your apartment?
Maybe he was a giving person? A person who liked to give baskets of fruits or sweets? Maybe he was the Easter bunny?
An Easter bunny with a big dick.
Fuck. Okay people, this was the last time I was going to bring up his dick. I needed to cleanse. Cleanse myself of Vance but dammit this Big-Dick-Red-Riding-Hood basket of muffins really fucked with my head. And there I go with the dick shit. . .again.
Luckily, Erin came out her room and distracted me so I could stop these pervy thoughts. Well she didn't really help because when she spotted it on the counter she gave me this look. The it that she spotted was the damn basket.The basket that was full of one of my favorite treats. The basket that had a note that read, Video day today. Eat up. Don't want to hear your stomach say shit when you are in the front of the class.
Oh did I forget to mention the note? That was another reason why I was slightly freaking out about the basket. Yeah it could've been a little nicer. Sure. But this was Vance. The only 'nice' thing I would get out of him was just that apology. Also, he could've added on a baby at the end too but but we are friends. (Once again reminding myself of that title.)
And friends act this way right?
I ignored Erin as she played out a series of kissy faces, moans, and groans and went into my room to take a shower. And don't ask me why I was shaving everywhere. Don't ask me why I put on my most expensive (plus favorite) lotion. Don't ask me why I took a little extra time on preparing my face. Don't ask me why I put on my favorite jeans. Because then I would have to give you answer. An answer I sure didn't want to tell or explain. (The answer was that I wanted to look good for my basket-giving man)
But the main question was: why?
Twenty minutes later, Erin and I found ourselves in the car. A daily occurrence. (I was lucky that she didn't question my overly expressive effort I put into for today. On second thought, I bet she also ready knew). She dropped me off on her way to her job. This time instead of my backpack in my lap though, I had a ziplock of my muffin bag sitting there while my hand gripped around one of delivered muffins. Eating it slowly. Savoring the taste.
This was what friends did right? Analyzing the shit out of every gift that was ever given to them?
I didn't get to answer my question - Ha, like I knew the answer - because we landed in front of the school. With a see you later and thank you Erin's way, I got out the car and brought my feet to the pavement, shaking off the extra crumbs that had fallen. Zipped up the leftovers of my muffin - yes still some left - and put it in my bag. Then I proceeded to let my legs carry me to class. Class with Vance.
Class with C-h-e-f Vance.
Yeah, I needed to repeat it again because I was about to go into class with him. All memories from the classroom, in my bed, even Tar-je smacked me upside my head, grew a mouth and called me a dirty whore. Because- wow. I really did all those things with my teacher. I still couldn't believe it and it was my fucking life.
However, those thoughts needed to bounce. I was not going to start spazzing out in class no matter how happy my vagina was. Not even if my vagina started to fucking sing. Oh and my cooter was a singer. Falsetto notes. Whistle tones. When it became excited, I didn't know what, when, and how fast it would show its excitement.
Tis' was why all those thoughts needed to be kept away and stored back, back to the back part of my head. The back. Did I mention the back?
I opened the door to the classroom, strolled in like I was a model on a not-so-modely-body-built runaway: cool and collected, and took a seat in my assigned seat.
As I was about to get my books out from my bag, someone cleared their throat. The sound had me revert my eyes up and I was met face to face with Chef. Chef Vance.
I raised an eyebrow, feeling bold because of our past conversations. We were friends. We were friends right? Friends raise their eyebrows at eachother right? Friends right?
If I said friends one more time. . .
His hand inched out, he gestured it over to the front of the classroom and said, "You need to be in front. Did you forget?"
Shit. How did that Rihanna song go? Dick on the brain? Brain on the dick? Anyways, it was fitting. I was too busy worrying about that Blueberry muffin basket and what it meant that I forgot I would be standing close to the man who delivered it during the whole class today. Standing very close to the man. Hands would be tangled up in the same bowl. Air would be shared. Maybe if I was passing him somehow my behind would graze against his front. Maybe I would have to bend down low in front of him to get something. Maybe-
The sound of his palm slamming across my table helped me remember where I was. The sound was loud but not alarming to have the other students look at us as they made their way into the classroom. The sound was for my hears and as I said before: to remember was I was. Where who I was with. With a man that was waiting for me to answer his question. Or maybe he just wanted me to get up? "Nope, I didn't forget. Just setting my bag down."
I added on a quick smile to bring it all together and show him that I didn't forget. I think he brought it because a second later - with one final look to me - he strutted away from me. After just a second of me looking down at his passing ass, I put my bag on the floor and followed in his direction. Made sure to grab an apron, gloves, and my dignity and landed on his side. Actually more precisely, by his side.
He bent down a smidge, leaned over, lowered his mouth to the side of my ear and spoke, "Remember you are my assistant. Which means you listen to every single thing I say." He meant only in the classroom. Only in the classroom. Right? "I need to get a good review. Got it?"
I nodded my head. Don't know how many times the action occurred but he got the message because he turned away and went to go grab something from his desk.
Finally. Good. Because now I could breathe. Vance had this aura - kind of like a magnetic field - that seemed to always trap me inside. And it wouldn't let me leave until I was either; breathless, desperate, or wanting. I can almost imagine the guards around the field checking an imaginary clipboard to see if I was free to go, 'Okay was the girl out of breath? Check. Was the girls mind scrambled? Check. Was her you know breast hardening? I imagined one of them gasp, having their eyes go big and say, 'Micheal, you know damn well we aren't supposed to look at their breast. You outta be-'
Okay. Scene over.
To wrap up my initial statement- I was affected by him. Which by now, was nothing new.
When more students started to come inside the classroom and then when the staff started to set up the lights and cameras, I got a little nervous. It low-key felt like we were about to be shot for some shitty Porn Hub video. The title would be 'Watch big dick chef fuck one of his bad students (P.S. that's his step-daughter)' because Porn Hub always had to add that step-brother, mother, sister shit into everything.
But I just called that man daddy so I had no room to be talking down to other peoples kinks.
I was mostly nervous though because I was going to be front and center and watched by Jason Leion. Crazy shit. Yeah I wasn't going to be making my own dish but, he would be looking at my listening skills and techniques. And who knows what could happen? With Jason Leion in my mind, I straightened down my apron, straightened up my spine and put on my ready-to-go face. Sometimes it got mixed with my ready-to-fuck face though. As in that would happen if Vance made contact with any part of me.
Would the camera notice? Nah. Would Vance notice? Nah. Would that ant crawling on the table notice? Nah.
Well I hope they wouldn't notice.
And my wish came though. Vance didn't. Oh and the ant was killed a second later by Vance's wooden spoon. Little buddy wouldn't notice anything now. After we got all the insects in check (only the one) and through out the spoon, we got to work. Back to my statement before- Vance didn't notice. Didn't notice my how big my eyes got as he put his hand over mine, to show me which speed to put the electric mixer on. Didn't notice the chill I got, when he let out a quiet 'fuck' as the knife cut accidentally, a little, into his skin. Didn't notice my quiet squeal as his hands handed on my waist to lightly push me away from the oven so he could put in cake.
Or maybe he did.
During the whole class time/video lesson, I couldn't tell or didn't have the time to tell anyway. Things went by fast. I couldn't stop and think over every touch because he would be barking out orders the very next second. And then in a second, the bell rang. Students got their stuff and left, chairs were pushed in; all that good stuff. The cameras and videos went out too. Goodbye and goodlucks were spoken by both parties; me and Vance and the camera staff and stuff. Despite all those touches, I think things went smooth. No students got out of line, Vance was calm, cakes were prepared at the best of their ability, no yelling occurred. Things went great, in my opinion.
Then why was this silence anything but great?
We were alone - this becoming a regular thing now - and we were cleaning up. Since I was the assistant I had to stay behind, as stated in my position, and finish up all that was left over by the other students plus our workspace. Now though, I was just stationed by the student workplaces cleaning off one of the stoves. As I sprayed some cleaning supplies on one of the stoves, I noticed that no sound was coming from the front of the room. He wasn't using any wipes or sprays? Wait to think about it. . .there hasn't been any sound coming from the front of the room this whole time. Yeah I didn't want silence because there shouldn't be silence if work was getting done.
With my face scrunched up, I faced the front of the classroom. Vance was located in a seat - I repeat a seat - phone in hand, staring at the screen. What did he expect? That I do all the work? Is that why he made the assistants stay?
I let out a loud huff, trying to get his attention. "Excuse me chef, are you going to help me?"
He held up a hand, basically telling me to wait and continued typing on his phone.
Oh fuck that. I was going to shove that phone- uh that phone. . .um the phone. . .Dammit where are my comebacks? I was going to shove that phone somewhere that it doesn't want to be. Good? Yeah thats good.
No wait- ass sounds good. Now its: I was going to shove that phone so far up his ass, the only name he was ever going to be able to say is Steve Jobs. That good? Still kinda trash but fuck it. Time was running out and I needed a comeback.
Before I was even able to deliver my amazing ass comeback, he picked up some cleaning supplies and got to cleaning his stove and counter. Without no sentence back to me. With the rolling of my eyes, I turned back around and got to work, working on the other counters.
Now the only sounds producing in the air for about forty minutes was the sound of a spray bottle going off, the sound of the handle of the sink going off and on, the sound of the desks creaking and the sound of my heart. But I don't think he heard it. After another fifteen minutes it chilled. And during the chilling heart, I noticed that Vance was getting significantly closer. Wasn't that funny? I spotted him a desk away. His shoulders were relaxed, his face looked flat, and his hands were at work.
Too bad I messed up his zen. I proceeded to ask him a question that provided a big smile to my face. "Why did you send me the Blueberry Muffins?"
As I said before, I ruined his zen. Ha. His shoulders got tense, his face transformed, and his hands tightened around the rag that was in his hand. Again, ha. After he took two short breaths he spoke, "Did you read the note?"
I could basically hear the 'dumbass' at the end of that sentence. Duh, I read the note but I wanted him to actually say it. Well at least he didn't deny it then I was really gonna shove the phone up his arse. Ha, arse. Funny word.
The brits were fooking hilarious.
I picked up my rag, faced away from him and started cleaning my last desk. "Yeah I read the note, but I wanted to know why."
He didn't answer back for a few minutes. Probably trying to come up with a nice pleasant way to say it didn't mean shit. He could either say, 'it was nothing you desperate bitch now stop thinking about my dick 'or he could say, 'I wanted to confess my love for you amazing Goddess. Now come over here so I could kiss you.'
Now which one was more logical? None but that was beside the point. If I had to pick his answer to my question, it would be more like the first ones style though.
To my surprise, he answer it a different way. A clever way. Answered a question with another question. "What did you think it meant?"
Dumb question to ask me because I would say something that had a mix of both my examples. 'It meant that I wanted to fuck you bitch. Now come the fuck over here so I could kiss you.' Luckily, my mouth does not open the same time - most times - my brain thinks dumb shit because none of that came out. All that came out was, "I think it was a friendly gesture."
Couldn't see his face but I did hear something drop. Then he spoke, "Then thats what it was."
All of a sudden, I'm disappointed. Yes, it would've been nice if it was more than a friendly gesture but I forgot (once-a-fukcing-again) that we had to play this safe. We had to be friends. Wow, I was a student who was friends with her teacher. That normal? Honesty, I didn't care anymore. I hide my disappointment and said, "Cool, that's cool."
When my brain ran out of words, cool was basically now in my backup library. The only word in my backup library. It was 'cool.'
And this word had now became me and Vance's backup word because he also muttered out a, "Cool."
I finished cleaning and wiping off the last few desks that were next to me, threw away the trash and made my way to my bag. With one hand on my bag handle, about to lift over my shoulder and make a run for the door, my movement was put on pause because Vance called out my name and asked me a question.
"Do you have a ride?"
Did I have a ride? Did Uber even count as a ride? I mean. . .yeah it was a ride but it wasn't like a set thing. If I never called anyone here I wouldn't have a ride. Which I hadn't done. I usually called my Uber when I'm toward the front of the school so I wouldn't have rush to the driver. So to answer his question. . .no then yes. But I just went with, "I. . ."
He didn't let me get out my second word - like I had one - because he spoke again. "I'll give you a ride."
Now this was another problem. Another car ride alone with Vance? Close proximity to the man always made me spazz out. And by spazz out I mean me wanting to grab the man and kiss him. Considering our new found title: friends, that could not happen.
Wait. Maybe instead of not thinking like a horny bitch for one second, I could use this as a way to get to know Vance. To talk to him. The drive would be a wonderful chance to get to know the real reason why he gave me those muffins or even a way to get to know his favorite color, or favorite food. Was it weird that I wanted to know his shoe size? I didn't think so because thats what friends do. Friends talk about all different types of shit and since we're going to both be stuck in the car, we could talk. Now that I am slightly for confident in his presence, I could demand for real answers. Well not demand but you know what I mean. . .
Whats the worst that could happen?
He tie me up with some rope he had stuffed in his trunk, stuff my underwear into my mouth, and turn me over and fuck me up against the trunk of his car?
Okay, I was getting a little ahead of myself but it could take that route. I wasn't exactly demanding for it to take that route, but when I was around Vance shit in my head just went bonkers. But I would stay on track with conversation. Conversation is what we needed to built any type of relationship anyway.
I nodded my head at his statement agreeing. Agreeing to what exactly. . .I had no clue.
***
| A/N: I love my British folks! I just really wanted to find a way to say 'fooking', that word is too funny to me jajajjaja. Also, I said friend 100 times in this chapter like wtf can I come up with something else? |
| Anyways, thanks for reading my story! |