seven: apple pie

I found myself walking back to the cooking school – Kris’s cooking school and no, not because I want to catch a glimpse of that tyrant, but I just wanted to return the dozens of books I had borrowed weeks ago. I tried not to think about the last time he was at my place – that k-kiss we shared in the kitchen. God. I shook my head to forget about it. Such a thing to trouble me! I’m not in my teens anymore and it’s not like it was my first kiss or anything!

Seeing the building come into view somewhat made the feeling that had been bubbling inside me for a while begin to boil again. It always seems to happen whenever I think about that monster of a teacher, only now I kind of don’t see him as a complete monster. I found myself staring at the pavement as I made my way, thinking. Ever since that incident, Kris hadn’t contacted me or visited my house for our lessons. It’s been almost a week. Was what happened so traumatizing to him that he decided to forget about me?

I sighed as I lugged the big bag of books to the building. When I reached the place, there wasn’t anybody behind the reception desk to greet me so I dropped the load on a bench nearby to catch my breath.

“Hah,” I sat with a huff, a hand on my shoulder as I turned it to help ease the pain. “Man, I probably should’ve returned them in small groups or something...”

I glanced at the clock, wondering where the secretary went when, through the corner of my eye, I saw and felt the hairs at the back of my neck stand.

“Ah.” Came his greeting.

“Ah?” Came mine.

God dammit. It’s him. I nervously shifted in my place, unable to look at him straight in the eye, or the whole of him to begin with because in that split second just now, in what could be called the most pathetic exchange of greetings in the century, I was face to face with Kris in his white chef’s uniform. He’s too much! Isn’t he only an apprentice?! I mean, how could someone make that plain looking white blanket look so… so…. y?

I wanted to hit myself. Did I just call this Hitler reincarnate as someone y? In his chef’s uniform?!

“What are you doing here?” He asked, ignoring the fact that I’m ignoring him.

“None of your business.” I grumbled, trying to discreetly push the bag of books under the seat. Of course, that wasn’t such a good idea considering how much the bag weighs because of them. Kris’s eyes shifted down (not that I’ve been checking or anything) and he sighed, shaking his head.

“So you came to return those.” He mumbled to himself.

“What’s it to you?” I turned my head to look at him, only to glance at the plant nearby when I felt his eyes move to me. Damn, what’s wrong with me. “A-Anyway, I’m going to drop these off and head home. So I won’t bother you so long.”

Kris half-glared at me as I continued rambling but my eyes were darting sideways, ogling that spectacular piece of flora at the corner. “Geez. You and your manners.” He casually insults me.

I stole a quick glance and flinched when I felt him go nearer. He bent down and picked up the books, grunting in the process.

“God, you brought all of them back?” He hissed, carrying them over to the reception desk.

“Hey!” I jumped up from my seat and caught up to him just in time when he dropped the load on the table. “What are you doing?”

“Just leave it here. The secretary’ll understand what it means; after all, you borrowed so much I don’t think she’ll easily forget some dimwit who borrows this much books in one day.” He casually insults me again. Then, he turns around to face me and crosses his arms.

“Wh-What?” I took a step back. Why does he look so pissed? What did I do wrong?

“We haven’t had a session in a week.” He says, still half-glaring at me.

“Is that my fault?” I hissed. “Y-You… You’re not coming over anymore. How am I supposed to know what to cook next if my teacher doesn’t come to schedules?”

“I didn’t say I haven’t been trying.” Kris countered and I bit my tongue.

Huh? He… tried? I ogled at him, “Uh… What?”

“Well, you’re quick to judge people.” Kris scoffs and turns around. “Since you’re here, I might as well make up those lost meetings. I’ll give you a tour at what an actual kitchen should look like.”

Now he just casually insulted my kitchen. I thought with contempt as he fully turned to head for the stairs. I was faced with a decision whether I should follow him up the stairs or just make a run for it out the building. I made my choice when I saw him turn around, his glare gone.

Man… How much of a pushover am I? I thought to myself as I trudged behind Kris. I glanced up and got a good look at his back. Is it me or does his back sort of look cool? Moving upwards, my eyes caught on his broad shoulders. This uniform’s emphasizing his body quite a bit and I found myself ridiculously blushing at the thought. Why in the world am I thinking of his body when I’m about to enter a kitchen?!

The sound of fire spewing out of something caught me by surprise. I gasped loudly and took a step back, a hand unconsciously flying to grab onto Kris’s shirt, just like during our market trip.

“Wh-What in the world?” I croaked and realized that it was just a student flambéing a piece of steak. I sighed in relief before hearing a chuckle by my side.

“Afraid of a little fire?” Kris sneered, a cheeky smirk on his face.

“No!” I pulled my hand back, mentally scolding it for being such a wimp. I looked back at the first kitchen we passed and saw several students cooking their steaks in different fashions. It was almost like a dance with several different types of dancers but all of which seemed to blend together to make the stage look perfect. Somehow, it was amazing to watch. But I felt a tug on my hand and found Kris holding it.

“Come on,” He said, neutral and cool as always. I tried to fight back a blush because a guy having to hold another guy’s hand out like this is pretty embarrassing. The memory of our shared kiss suddenly paraded in my head and the blush colored my cheeks quickly.

Man, does he not think about that time at all? Am I the only one worrying over it? You have got to be kidding me! I thought to myself as I followed behind him, my hand still in his. And why does he have to hold my hand? This is unbelievably uncomfortable for me.

But then, we came across another kitchen that smelled of pastry and I haven’t eaten anything decent since this morning (if you count starchy grains a.k.a cereal as something decent) so I was pretty much hungry, but I willed my stomach not to make any growling sounds, not in front of him.

“This kitchen we use for the baking classes.” Kris explained, hand still holding mine as we observed from the glass windows. “Students today are scheduled to be baking apple pies.”

Apple pies. Dear lord. I gulped as I tried not to imagine delicious, steaming apple pie right in front of me. Damn it, Kris!

Kris seemed to be able to catch on to me and my hungry expression as he timely turned around, a smirk on his face. “Someone looks hungry.”

“You’re imagining things.” I quickly replied, looking aside. I still couldn’t find the balls to look at him, especially since we were still holding hands. “C-Can you let go of my hand now? I’m n