Chapter 21 Yet
Chapter twenty-one
Yet
Jasmine Chamberlain
“Um.” Marigold stands a few feet behind Shepherd, wide-eyed and blinking. “I know I had a lot of coffee today, so I could be hallucinating. Is there a man in our kitchen?”
I jump, her presence surprising me, then let out a nervous laugh. “You’re not seeing things. Shepherd came over to help me with chess.”
Marigold looks at the bowls on the counter, then back at me. Her brows raise.
“I was hungry after practice,” I explain.
“Mm-hmm.” She nods, her tone ambiguous but her expression crystal clear. She’s not buying it. I wouldn’t either if I was her.
“I should probably head out.” Shepherd stands. “I really do have an English paper to write.”
“Don’t leave on my account. I’m going to my room,” Marigold says as she backs away. “You two have fun…or whatever it is that you do.”
Shepherd laughs. Meanwhile I cover my face. I’m never going to hear the end of this. I know, because if I caught Marigold in the kitchen with Jameson, I definitely wouldn’t shut up about it.
“I think I’ll head out,” Shepherd says after Marigold’s door closes.
I drop my hands. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. I was close to falling asleep while eating.”
He looks down at his half-eaten bowl with longing. I bite back a laugh.
“Do you want to take it with you?”
He looks up like I just offered him the Heisman Trophy. “That would be amazing.”
I turn around to hide my smile. It probably shows far too much.
Then I open the cabinet where we keep our food storage.
Bash’s wife got me into using glass containers—something about them being less toxic—but the chef in me always has cheap deli containers on hand.
It’s perfect for moments like this. I pull down a large one and grab a lid off the nearby stack, then fill it with the rest of the pasta on the stove.
“I’m hesitant to send this home with you, because I know there’s no way you’re going to heat it up properly.” I snap on the lid.
“You don’t have to worry about that. It’s not even going to get cold before I eat the rest,” he replies.
I giggle. “There’s no way you can eat the rest of this tonight.” It’s a heavy dish, with loads of cream and parmesan mixed in with the bright pesto, seasoned chicken, and pasta.
“I can, and I will. Unless Owen guilts me into sharing with him. I’ll feel bad for subjecting him to my cooking after this.”
I turn around, still smiling because I’m not able to stop. “You should share. Tell him it’s my thank-you for letting me hang out the other night.”
“And let him think you made something for him?” Shepherd shakes his head. “No way, he’s not having something from you before I do.”
I scoff. “Go ahead and give up on that dream, because it’s not happening.”
I slide the container across the island. He catches it with a grin.
“Didn’t you hear my speech about never giving up?” He grabs the container and points it at me. “You’re on my list now, Chef.”
“I’m not a chef—”
“Yet,” he interrupts.
“And what list are you talking about? The list of people you like to annoy? Because I’ve been on that since we met.”
“No, the list of goals I’m not going to stop pursuing until I reach them. Win the national championship,” he starts to list, holding a finger up for each thing. “Win the Heisman, beat my brother’s record, and get Jasmine Chamberlain to make something just for me.”
“Sounds like you’re going three for four, then.”
His grin widens, making my stomach swoop. “I’m undefeated, and I’m staying that way. You’ll see.”
“Go home before your pasta gets cold,” I say with a laugh.
“All right, but only because I really don’t think I’m capable of properly heating this up.”
My abs are going to hurt from laughing so much.
“Get some rest, Captain,” I say as he starts to walk away.
“You too, Chef.”
“I’m not a chef!” I call out through more laughter.
“Yet!” he yells back before disappearing out the door.
I’m cleaning up our dishes when I hear Marigold’s door open. I brace for impact.
“Care to tell me what that was about?” she asks as she hops up on a stool.
“Have you eaten today?” I ask her instead of answering.
She huffs. “Don’t avoid my question.”
“Answer mine, and I’ll answer yours,” I reply.
“I had breakfast,” she says quietly. I glance at the clock. 9 PM.
“Marigold!” I hiss. “You can’t do that.”
“I was busy. I had some protein bars too. I’m fine,” she defends, but the ever-present dark circles under her eyes tell a different story.
The woman is constantly working. I don’t know when she sleeps.
Her major is competitive to be certain, but not as much as Saylor’s, who eats and sleeps well.
I know there’s something else going on, but when we cross paths, we rarely have enough time for me to pull it out of her.
It seems like everyone I know is chasing after something, even myself, but I get the feeling Marigold is running away instead of after.
I sigh and walk to the fridge. I haven’t had a lot of time to prep meals, but we do have plenty of groceries. Much more than Shepherd and Owen have, that’s for sure.
“How does a turkey melt sound?” I ask, already grabbing the supplies I’ll need.
“It sounds like heaven, but I know you must be tired. I can make a cold sandwich.” I shoot Marigold a glare. She holds up her hands. “Okay, okay, I’ll eat it and be grateful.”
“Good.”
She stays silent as I get out a clean pan and melt some butter in it. I know she’s dying for me to tell her more, but she can sweat for a minute. Once I get the sandwich assembled and placed in the hot butter, I turn to face her.
“Shepherd and I have hung out a couple of times, as friends,” I finally answer her. “That’s all.”
“So he doesn’t get on your nerves anymore?”
I let out a breathy laugh. “He does, but he makes me laugh, too.”
And feel seen. Understood. In an unnerving sort of way that makes me want to spill all my thoughts. I almost did tonight, but I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get the words out without crying. And I don’t think we’re at the cry-in-front-of-each-other stage of friendship just yet.
“It sounded like you were flirting.”
My mouth drops. “Were you listening in?”
“You weren’t exactly whispering,” she says.
I turn back to the pan and take my time flipping the sandwich.
“We weren’t flirting. We tease each other, as friends. Just like you and me.”
“That sounds as believable as Jameson’s reason,” Marigold says dryly.
My brow furrows. “What are you talking about?”
She sighs, cradling her chin in her hands.
“I came home early because Jameson showed up in my favorite corner of the library. He said it was where he liked to study, but I think he was following me. Probably trying to spy on me to see if there’s anything negative he can report back to Charlie.
” She notes my confused expression. “Charlie is the editor-in-chief of the paper.”
I nod. “Oh, okay. You’re sure he wasn’t just there to study?” I make my suggestion gently.
Marigold scrunches her nose. “No way. I’m there all the time. He can’t have the same favorite spot.”
It sounds to me like it’s his favorite place because she’s there, but I don’t say that.
“I’m guessing you told him as much?”
She smiles. “Why, yes, I did.”
“How did that go?”
“I got to use a few creative insults, but he wouldn’t budge. Said I didn’t own the library.” She rolls her eyes. “So I left.”
I take the sandwich off the heat before it can get too brown. After I plate it, I slide the food over to Marigold, then grab a bottle of coconut water out of the fridge. She scrunches her nose again.
“You need electrolytes.”
“That stuff tastes weird,” she whines.
“If you can tell me you had something other than caffeine to drink today, I’ll put it back.”
She scowls but pulls the water bottle closer.
“That’s what I thought.”
“This whole having friends thing is for the birds.” She takes a bite of the sandwich and hums. “I take it all back. I’ll drink ten coconut waters if it means I get to eat this again.”
I laugh. “I’ll have to bargain better next time.”
We make small talk for the rest of the time that she eats and I clean.
I don’t want Saylor to do it when she gets back.
She does too much already. Once we’re both done, we murmur our good nights and trudge to our separate rooms to crash.
At least, that’s my plan. Marigold might be at her desk already.
I get ready for bed slowly, stumbling through my routine on account of being exhausted. With every step I complete, I flash back to a moment with Shepherd. By the time I climb into bed and close my eyes, I can’t stop picturing a mischievous smile and sparkling blue eyes.