Bully Next Door

She settled on a pair of jeans and her favorite red shirt that sank in at the waist, flared out at the hips, and made her feel comfortable. She left her long hair down, the natural curl giving it life.

No makeup.

Glancing at her bed, she sat down and picked up a picture of her mother. She adored her mother and missed her. Her mother had passed away three years ago to cancer. At least she’d seen the success of her channel.

The cookbook was going to be dedicated to her mother.

She checked the time and winced. Only a couple of minutes until seven o’clock, and one thing she couldn’t stand was tardiness. There was no room for it in her life.

Shoving her cell phone into her pocket, she walked downstairs and picked up her keys. She wasn’t in the habit of leaving her door unlocked, so she flicked that into place before walking down her path, turning, and walking up Hector’s path.

Of all the things to happen to her, living next door to one of the people who bullied her back in high school was just unlucky.

She rang the bell at exactly seven. Her hatred of tardiness never disappeared.

Tapping her fingers on her thigh, she was tempted to glance behind her to see if this was a prank. They were both thirty years old, but she knew some people never changed.

Hector, back then, would make it a habit of entering class late, and then he’d mess around. Hassle the teacher, and she honestly thought he was a dick.

The man himself opened the door, letting out smoke.

Verity stepped back at the sound of the smoke alarm.

“Come in, quickly,” he said.

She stepped into his home and was met with the smell of grilling.

“You need to stay with that,” she said.

“Crap, yes, of course, follow me.” He was already running back to his kitchen.

Verity followed him inside and saw his laptop open and one of her videos on pause.

“Ah, you’re doing the marinated tofu?” she asked.

“Er, I am trying to.”

“Did you presume that I would say yes to a date?” Verity asked. Marinating tofu required at least twenty-four hours.

“Fuck no! I never assumed anything.”

Verity frowned and quickly glanced around his kitchen. “Oh, so this was all last minute?”

“Yeah, I er, I didn’t read the instructions.” He pointed at the computer. “I’m so sorry.”

There was no way she was going to feel sorry for this guy, but he looked so pitiful and out of his depth.

“Have you ever cooked before?”

“Never. Not in my life. Are you laughing?” he asked.

“Just a little bit.” She held her fingers up near each other for effect.

“This isn’t funny.” He pointed at the ingredients. “It’s ruined. It tastes awful.”

Verity couldn’t believe she was standing in Hector’s kitchen and that she actually felt sorry for him. He looked so lost as if he truly didn’t know what he was doing. It certainly was a step far away from the jock who was mean and cruel just to get a few laughs with his friends.

“Fine. This is all fixable.”

Hector held up a piece of tofu, looking highly doubtful. She had to wince at the poor food. It didn’t look good.

She took the tofu from him and broke off a piece. Other than the extreme chargrilled marks, there was no taste.

“Yes, I believe this is all fixable. Tofu is not the enemy, but you’ve got to know what to do with it, and trying to infuse flavor this fast on a marinate isn’t going to work. However, I know what I can do. Do you have a spare apron?” she asked.

Hector handed her a purple-looking one, and she slid it over her head, tying it behind her back. She grabbed a band from her jeans pocket and secured her hair back at the base of her neck.

“Put all the tofu you’ve cooked onto a spare plate. We don’t need it right away, and I want to see how much you’ve cooked.” She went to the sink and washed her hands.

I can do this.

I can be in my ex-bully’s house, cooking dinner. Showing him how it’s done.

She dried her hands on the towel closest to her and turned to see at least one large block of tofu had been cut.

Glancing at the vegetables, she grabbed a knife and got to chopping. She started first with a bunch of onions, followed by some peppers. Next were some carrots, which she sliced into strips, and put them to another side. She put Hector to work on the mushrooms, and then she measured out some rice for them.

“I’m thinking a quick sweet and sour sauce with these vegetables, over rice. What do you think?” she asked.

“Er, I … I only have a frying pan.”

“Don’t worry about it. Everything is doable.” She had made it her mission to prove that you could cook whatever you wanted with as minimal products as possible. Putting the frying pan on the highest heat, she got to cooking the vegetables, getting them to have some char marks, which was what she loved to eat.