08 | bitter

ASHTON


"Ashton, do you even realize how annoying it is hearing you and Summer at each other's throats behind me every single day?" Nick immediately drops his head in his hands as we sit in a booth in Craves & Coffee, the student café on the edge of campus.


It's been a full week since the soup incident.


"I mean, lay off the girl already, man. You're relentless."


I laugh, scooting over for Diego while Ryan slides in next to Nick.


"It's fun getting under her skin." I shrug. "Gotta enjoy it while I can before we switch partners, anyway."


"Yeah? Hook me up when that happens." Ryan grins. "I wouldn't mind partnering up with her."


Diego scoffs, his bushy brows creased.


"Not that you're a bad partner." Ryan adds. "But Summer? Sign me up for that hot piece of ass any day."


He rubs his hands together with a look of greed I have the urge to slap clean off his face. I pick up a menu to focus on something else, automatically scanning the lowest prices without looking at what they're attached to.


Diego belts out a laugh next to me. "You think you can score with someone like her? Shit, you really are loco."


"In a typical situation, sure, she's out of my league. But Ashton's already written the playbook, bud."


My eyes shoot to him. "Explain."


"Simple. She hates you, so all I have to do is the opposite of whatever you're doing." He stretches his arms on the seat. "Bam. I'm in her pants."


"Please, that girl will eat you for breakfast," Nick mutters as he reads his menu. "You haven't heard them. She dishes it out just as much as she takes it."


That's true. Now that the class has seen Summer's hot temper, she doesn't bother hiding it. I almost think she's thankful I spilled that soup on her.


It started off with me throwing smug comments in her direction and being brushed off in annoyance, but two days in and she was hitting back with zero mercy. Along with actively trying to beat my answers to questions in theory classes. Both our hands are usually in the air before anyone else's, and when I attempt to throw her off by knocking my shoes against the back legs of her chair, she literally kicks me away.


Not only that, but she's noticeably improved her chopping over the week. Whatever I do seems to fuel her determination instead of fizzling it out. Anyone else I was up against would fold, but it's like she's immune. And it's kind of infuriating that all it does is make her more interesting to me.


Ryan leans forward with that same greedy glint in his snake eyes. "Well if she's good at taking it, then best believe I'm gonna give it to her all night. And I'll gladly let her eat me for breakfast, too."


He fist bumps Diego, and I call the waitress over when my teeth threaten to crack.


❖❖❖


Under my bed, there's a stash of money hidden beneath a loose floorboard. My dad has no idea about it. If he did, then he'd blow it in an hour. I would have blown it in the past too, but that cash is my ticket out of Cloverbrook now.


I started saving the day I got accepted into Clocul, and most of what I earn and manage to slip past my dad goes into the stash. It's not meant to be spent, so being forced to dip into it time and time again is beyond frustrating.


At 9pm when I'm back from my shift and workout at the gym, Dad's molded into his usual position on the couch.


I drop my bag at the door. "You go to the store like you said?"


His grunt of an answer is clear when I open the fridge. No food, but beers galore. I crack my neck, stomach burning in anger. It's a challenge to keep myself in check when I see the rumpled takeout bag on the coffee table. A few fries scattered, burger crumbs sitting in grease. Nothing else left.


"You didn't buy any food."


He takes a sip of beer, focus on the TV. "You go to a fuckin' food school. Stuffing your face there all day not enough for you?"


"That's not how it works, we don't—" I stop myself when he eyes me, waiting for me to test him. Getting worked up is a lost cause in this house, and I'm on one of my longest streaks of keeping the peace. I don't have the energy for this.


He settles into a sarcastic tone. "Finished bitching? Sounded like you were just getting started. I'm all ears."


I suppress every emotion eating its way through my aching stomach, grab my bag and head to my room. The volume of the TV rips through the house as I collapse on my bed and light up a cigarette.


Guess I'll be dipping into my stash again. Then again, I do go to a food school... maybe I can make a plan.


❖❖❖


I have to assume that we'll be able to eat the meals we cook in class, but seeing as we've mainly been chopping and learning techniques instead of full recipes, it could still be awhile until that happens. In the meantime, I slip into the cafeteria kitchen once everyone at lunch has cleared out.


If I can avoid spending my saved money, then this could be a solution whenever my dad chooses booze over food. With the small kitchen staff dealing with a delivery out back, I work fast and get out the plastic container in my backpack.


Scooping in as much leftover mac and cheese as I can, I then squeeze the lid shut and slip out of the kitchen again, my balance shaken as someone bumps into me.


"Sorry my ba... oh." I let out a grumble, looking away from those big eyes. "What are you still doing here?"


"I left my phone on the table. What are you doing here?" Summer's gaze drops to my hands. "Did you just steal that from the kitchen?"


"It's not stealing since we technically pay for the food, so..." I shove the container in my bag.


She squares her shoulders, matter-of-factly stating, "You know that extra food is most likely for the staff. We're not allowed to just—"


"You gonna rat on me, Cupcake?"


"I... well, no but—"


"Cool, then this conversation is pointless." I weave past her to store my dinner in the locker room before class.


The reminder of what gets on my nerves about Summer surfaces as I walk through the halls. Since we met, I've felt this back and forth about her. Being drawn to her, messing with her for fun, telling myself to not get distracted, and being aware of her privilege in the back of my mind. She's rich, it's not rocket science to know she's privileged, and I can't help but feel bitter.


I bet she's never gone to bed hungry in her life. I bet she's never had a gun waved in her face, or lived on the street, or prevented her father from drowning in his own vomit as kid. No, her daddy has probably donated to every school she's been to. Spoiled her with a nice car, designer clothes, annual family vacations, and made sure there was a hot meal on the table every night.


And I wonder if I'm the only obstacle she's ever had to face. If she glided through life with everything handed to her and expected culinary school to be a breeze. It drives me mad how people like that work half as hard than the rest of us and end up miles ahead.


I don't know Summer. Maybe she can't be categorized like that, but she fits the privileged mold close enough to be a constant reminder of what my life has never been. And I think that's enough for my dislike to be cemented.


❖❖❖


On Friday morning, Chef Kent walks into the kitchen with Chef Ross, the head patisserie chef who assists her sometimes. He's way sterner than she is. No humor, nitpicks everything. A real buzzkill.


"All right everyone, listen up!" Kent says. "We thought it would be fun to end off the week with some friendly competition."


A curious murmur swoops over the room.


"That's right," Chef Ross continues, arms crossed as usual. "Since you've been working so much with vegetables, everyone is going to make the same vegetable-heavy dish. Ratatouille."


I now see that Kent is holding a stack of handouts. "We've gone over the techniques to cook it in theory, it's relatively easy so don't worry about not being advanced yet, we wouldn't throw you in the deep end. And I'll be handing out the recipe for you to follow."


"What do we get if we win?" I ask, turning heads. "Like, there's a prize, right?"


"Kind of," Kent says. "We'll be giving you a time limit to cook and plate your food, and then judge at the deadline. Whoever prepares the best meal gets to skip cleanup and start the weekend early. Plus, bragging rights."


"Oh, sick." I cut through the excited group, making my way to the back. "Excuse me while I win this thing."





A/N: soo excited for you guys to read the next one. if you've already read it on episode then you know what's coming up -- no spoilers ;)

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