Tell Me With Flowers

14. Assurance

MILES

I folded my shirt up to my sleeves as I started to scrub the plates that I had used to make lasagna. It was not necessary to make a lasagna for myself, yet I had gone down the old recipe books only to sit down with a difficult one.

Though I had followed most of the ingredients, by the end of it, I had improvised and took notes along with it. I had taken my sweet time to plate it on a China platter, making sure that my presentation was good enough even if I was going to devour it in the matter of seconds.

It gave me a therapeutic stance and right now, it was the only thing that was keeping me sane.

Since last year, my cooking had almost been close to nil. I always wanted to make time for Shelly that I had given up on cooking to please her. I was scared of her leaving me solely on the reason that I didn't give her the attention that she required.

But the joke was on me. I had given her so much of attention that she had run away from me.

With only me in the house, it had become a tough task to cook something to feed only one stomach that wasn't even hungry anymore. And I didn't like to have leftovers, so the things that remained on my stove went straight to the trash.

It was one of the reasons why I ended up at the restaurant rather than at home at the mercy of my friends to pick up my shit for me. And they had, without a complaint.

I hated myself for wasting the things that I had done on my stove. I hated myself for not being strong to look after myself. I hated myself for letting Shelly rule my life even after she was long gone. It became another reason for me to drink and forget things, things that required my immediate attention like my bank details.

But today, I was cooking. Not because I had company nor was it because I was hungry. It was mainly to take certain someone's thoughts out of my head.

For a while, it had worked its magic. I put all my focus on the bubbling cheese, the aroma of the sliced green pepper and the intensity of the red sauce I had used to put on top of it. Just the way I liked it. I had taken extra time to put the layers of vegetables and beef, much to my liking.

It was only after I had placed it in the microwave that my mind was reeling backwards. It wasn't even about Shelly anymore. It had been three fucking days since she and I had spoken about anything. Three fucking days since I saw her smile at me.

Sure, she had called, but being the hot head that I was, I hadn't answered it. Afraid that I was getting trapped in her blue eyes just like I had once fallen for Shelly's brown ones.

I had gone through a lot and according to the books, it had to make me stronger. But it hadn't. One comment on my rich ass status had pulled me into the gutters all over again. If she thought I was a rich asshole, then I had to prove her right. I was done proving people that they were wrong anyway.

I looked at the plate of lasagna that was lying in front of me. It smelt so much like my mum's lasagna, yet my appetite wasn't in my favor. I sat on the dining table with a neatly plated, mouth-watering food, but not able to enjoy it.

She had stopped calling me since yesterday noon. It was as if she had given up and oddly enough, I didn't want her to call quits on me. I wanted her to call me again and this time, I would pick the call. Would she call me?

"Ugh!" I let out a frustrated groan. "Get your shit together!"

I was supposed to be Miles Jackson, a chef whom the whole town adored. I was going to open up a new workshop and was determined to become a businessman – famous and sturdy. And I was letting another one of my female friends to get to me. I hadn't even slept with her! Hell, I hadn't even made it to the first base with her!