Chapter 7 – Cole-Past
Chapter Seven
PASTA POINT OF NO RETURN
COLE-PAST
I’m walking down the hallway, trying to make it to class before the bell rings, when I catch it.
A voice, not loud but sharp enough to slice through the usual chaos of a busy high school hallway.
It’s Jamie, an asshole from the senior class, making fun of someone. Not just anyone, though. It’s Kenna.
I freeze mid-step.
I don’t need to look to know what’s happening. I know that tone, the way they laugh when they think they have someone trapped.
Something inside me snaps. Not because it’s the first time I’ve seen this kind of crap, but because it’s her. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that people like Jamie don’t stop unless someone makes them.
I don’t even think about it. I turn and head straight for her locker.
When I arrive, I see Jamie and his friends gathered around Kenna.
Jamie is leaning against her locker, preventing her from closing it, while the others move around like vultures.
He’s saying something, likely a joke about her clothes or hair, something petty.
I don’t need to hear the words to understand the pain and humiliation in her eyes.
She’s clutching her books tightly than necessary, her lips a hard line, eyes shining with unshed tears. She’s trying to keep her head down to avoid giving them more fuel. But Jamie’s taunts only get louder.
I’ve never been the type to stand by and let someone get treated like shit. Not when it’s someone I care about.
I step up behind Jamie and tap him on the shoulder.
“Hey, Jamie,” I say, my voice firm, my tone cold. “You done?”
He turns around, surprised at first, but then he puts on that cocky smile I can’t stand. “What’s your problem, Cole?” He looks me up and down like I’m some kind of threat. “This doesn’t involve you.”
“Yeah, it does,” I snap, my jaw clenched. “You’re bothering her. That makes it my problem.”
Jamie raises an eyebrow. “Oh, come on, man. We’re just having some fun.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m not laughing,” I say, stepping closer, standing between him and Kenna. My eyes lock onto his. “So how about you get the hell out of her face before I make you.”
The other guys exchange a few unsure glances, but Jamie is too proud to back down immediately. He looks at me like he’s sizing me up, trying to decide if I’m serious. I don’t back down. I’m not going anywhere.
“You think you can scare me, Cole?” he says, but his voice wavers a little. “You’re not even in our league.”
“I’m not here to play games, Jamie,” I say, my voice low and steady. “You don’t get to pick on people like that. Now, leave her alone.”
For a second, Jamie’s expression flickers, like he’s about to argue, but then he looks at his friends. They don’t want to fight me either, so after a beat of awkward silence, he huffs and backs off, muttering something under his breath before he and his buddies finally leave.
As they disappear down the hall, the tension doesn’t. The hallway feels too quiet, like the calm after a storm.
I turn around to face Kenna, but she’s already looking down, her eyes glistening with tears. My stomach drops when I see it. She’s trying to hold it together, but she can’t. Not this time.
“Kenna…” I start, my voice soft.
She shakes her head quickly. Her face flushed. “I’m fine,” she says, but I can hear the tremor in her voice, and it’s a lie.
“No, you’re not,” I say, stepping closer, my hand instinctively reaching out to her.
I hesitate for just a second, but then I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her like I’ve done a thousand times before.
She stiffens for a moment, but then she relaxes against me, her shoulders shaking as she finally lets the tears fall.
I hate that this is happening in the middle of a school hallway. I hate that people are still watching, whispering. But I can’t care. Let them talk. Let them see.
I hold her tighter, my hand moving in slow circles on her back, trying to calm her down, trying to let her know it’s okay to cry. I’ll always be here for her, no matter what.
“I’m sorry, Kenna,” I whisper, my voice steady, though there’s a sharp pain in my chest that I can’t explain. “You don’t deserve that.”
She takes a shaky breath and pulls away just slightly, looking up at me. Her eyes are red, her cheeks streaked with tears, and I want to take all of that pain away. I want to erase the things people have done to her, to make everything better.
“You didn’t have to protect me,” she whispers, her voice raw.
I smile, even though my heart aches for her. “I’ll protect you until the day I die, Sunshine,” I say, my voice thick with the promise.
She looks at me for a moment, and then she lets out a shaky laugh. A real one, this time. “You always say that. I don’t know if you realize how much that means to me.”
I’m not sure if she believes it, but I do. I meant every word. And I’ll keep saying it until she knows it’s true.
After school, I don’t ask if she wants to hang out—because I know she shouldn’t be alone. I tell her I’m taking her to dinner. She doesn’t argue. Just gives me a tired nod and follows.
We both pile into my old car and drive there, the radio filling the quiet space between us.
When we arrive at La Bella Luna, the small Italian restaurant is quiet, cozy, just what we need.
It’s one of those places that has the perfect atmosphere—dim lighting, the scent of garlic and tomato sauce hanging in the air.
We get a booth near the back, and after we settle in, I can see her relax, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little.
The waiter comes over, and Kenna orders without hesitation.
“I’ll have the spaghetti,” she says, and I catch the way she smiles just a little when she says it.
“Spaghetti?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. “Is that your favorite?”
She shrugs, looking a little embarrassed, but there’s a small glint in her eye. “Yeah. I don’t know, there’s something about the way they make it here. It’s…perfect.”
Perfect. That’s how she describes it. I don’t know why, but it sticks with me. I think about it, about how she’s sitting there, all quiet and beautiful, talking about spaghetti like it’s the most important thing in the world.
And then it hits me.
It’s not just about eating here with her. I want to redo the moment, to make it something new. To make her feel protected when she’s with me. Like she can trust me. Anywhere.
Then, just like that, I know what I’m gonna do.
I’m going to learn how to make the best spaghetti she’s ever had.
A few days pass. The hallway incident fades into whispers, but the look in Kenna’s eyes doesn’t leave me.
Not when I’m walking to class, not when I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
I keep thinking about the smile she gave me in the restaurant, soft and unsure, like she didn’t know if she could be happy.
Apron on, I’m standing in the kitchen, flipping through a recipe book that’s way too complicated. Still, I’m not giving up. I’m gonna keep trying until I can make something that will actually impress her. Cooking’s not really my thing, but for Kenna, I’ll make it work.
The kitchen looks like a disaster zone. Flour is everywhere, and there’s a strange smell of garlic and burnt onions in the air, but I don’t care. I’ve got my mind set on something, and it’s the fact that I want Kenna to taste this spaghetti and know that I put everything into it.
Halfway through burning the first batch of garlic, I call my mom into the kitchen. She laughs at the mess but doesn’t ask questions. When I mention Kenna’s name, she stays quiet, but there’s a small, knowing smile on her face that says she already understands.
I finally get the sauce simmering on the stove, and the noodles boiling, and I feel like a chef for the first time in my life. When it’s finally ready, I throw it all together, dumping the sauce over the pasta, and then I pack it up in a container to take to her.
I label it with a post-it. It just says “For the girl who deserves perfect.”
Nervous doesn’t even begin to describe how I’m feeling.
It’s just spaghetti, right? But somehow, this feels way bigger.
Maybe it’s because I want to do something for her that goes beyond just showing up when it’s easy.
I want to prove I’m serious about this, about being there for her in every way I can.
When I pull up to her house, I feel a knot in my stomach, like I’m about to walk out onto a tightrope with no safety net. My hands are sweaty as I grab the container of spaghetti and make my way up to the door. I knock, trying not to feel like an idiot.
Kenna opens the door, and I see her face light up when she sees me, though there’s a flicker of surprise when she spots the container in my hand.
“Cole?” she says, raising an eyebrow. “What’s this?”
I hold the container out to her, a little awkward but determined. “I made you lunch.”
Her mouth drops open slightly, like she wasn’t expecting this, and she glances down at the container, then back up at me. “You...made me spaghetti?”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to act casual, though inside I’m wondering if it’s any good at all. “You mentioned it was your favorite, so I thought I’d give it a shot.”
She takes the container, her eyes softening as she looks at it, then looks back at me. “You really made this for me?”
“Yeah, really,” I say, a grin pulling at my lips. “It’s the best I could do.”
Kenna smiles, and I swear it’s like the sun coming out after a storm. It makes my chest feel tight, but in the best possible way.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she says, her voice quiet but filled with warmth. “But thank you. That’s...really sweet.”
I shrug, not sure how to respond to that. “You’re worth it,” I say without thinking, and when she looks up at me, her expression softens even more.
She opens the container and takes a bite of the spaghetti. For a moment, she’s silent, chewing slowly as if she’s evaluating it. I hold my breath, waiting for her reaction.
She swallows and then grins at me, her eyes sparkling. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This is pretty damn good, Cole.”
A weight lifts off my chest, and I chuckle. “I told you I’d get it right.”
“You’re a keeper,” she teases, shaking her head, but her smile is genuine, and it makes me feel like I’ve done something right.
I stay there for a moment, just looking at her, realizing how much I’ve missed her. How much I’ve always cared for her.
Then, without thinking, I take a step closer. The air shifts. Slows. She’s still holding the container, but her free hand brushes against mine. Our fingers tangle briefly, like they remember each other.
I feel a spark between us, a connection that’s been there from the start. I don’t even hesitate. Leaning in, I kiss her, my heart pounding like it’s the very first time all over again.
The kiss is soft at first, tentative, like we’re both testing the waters. Her lips are warm, a little hesitant, but then she leans in. Deeper. And I know we’re both here. This isn’t just a dream.
The world blurs around us. My heart stutters in my chest.
When we finally pull apart, a smile tugs at my lips that I can’t hold back. Her eyes are a little wide, a little breathless, but there’s something else there too, something I can’t put into words, but I know it’s the same feeling I have.
“Wow,” she says, her voice a little unsteady.
“Yeah,” I breathe out, my chest still tight. “Wow.”
She looks up at me for a second, and I see a little vulnerability in her eyes, a little confusion. But she doesn’t pull away, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe we’re on the same page.
“I should, uh…probably get inside,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Millie’s probably freaking out. I was supposed to help her with our history project.”
I nod, my fingers brushing hers before I let them fall away. “Yeah. I should probably head home too before my mom sends out a search party.”
Kenna lingers there for a second, like she’s thinking something over. Then she smiles just enough to make my chest hurt. “See you tomorrow?”
“I hope so,” I say. “You know where to find me.”
She tugs at the sleeves of her hoodie, biting back a grin. “Locker 327. You’re kind of predictable.”
“Predictably awesome,” I joke, and she rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling when she steps backward toward the front door.
I watch her go. Watch the porch light catch in her hair, the way she glances over her shoulder one last time before disappearing inside.
Then I walk, hands in my pockets, as my heart does something weird and heavy in my chest.
This…whatever it is between us. It isn’t loud or dramatic. But it’s real. Real enough that I already know I’m in deeper than I meant to be.
She’s not just another girl in the hallway anymore. She’s the one I wait for between classes. The one I notice when she’s not around. The one I’d walk any damn direction for, as long as she’s on the other end of it.
The night air is cool on my skin, but I don’t care. All I can think about is her. Her laugh. Her eyes. That quiet little look she gave me right before the door shut. Like maybe this scared her a little too. Like maybe it mattered.
And I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I don’t know if we’ll last past senior year, or if we’ll even make it past Friday. But I know this:
I’m in. All the way.
I’ll be the guy who walks her to class. The guy who learns her coffee order. The guy who shows up, even when it’s hard.
She’s already someone I don’t want to lose.
And I’ll be damned if I let her forget how much she matters.