“I’m going to kill him,” Bennett muttered under his breath.

“You already said that,” I reminded him as I swirled the water in my glass out of boredom.

“Well then I’ll kill him, resurrect him, and then kill him again.” 

“You also already said that,” I told him.

If you haven’t figured it out already, Bennett wants to kill Bentley, not Jordan. We’ve been waiting at the restaurant Bentley told us to meet up with him for a while now. I could tell the waiter serving for us was getting annoyed when we told him we’re not ordering yet. When he came for the third-

“Are you sure you don’t want to order even appetizers?” The waiter asked us. “I know you reserved your table, but this is a very busy restaurant and we have many more customers waiting to-“

“I’ll say this again, we’re not ordering yet,” Bennett told him, not even looking at him. “We’re still waiting for someone. Once he comes, I’ll kill him, and then we’ll order.”

I shot him a glare and apologized to the waiter before he grumbled off to wait on other tables. Suddenly Bennett’s phone chimed. He took out his phone and looked at the screen.

“Is it the guys?” I asked him. “We already promised them we’ll bring them doggy bags later.”

“No, it’s Bentley,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing together. “How did he even get my number?”

“Rich people powers?” I offered. “Well, that or Jordan.”

“Now I’m going to kill him.”

This time he meant Jordan. Bennett read the message and then his eye twitched.

“What is it?”

“He says he can’t make it,” he grumbled. “He also says it seems that we’ll just have to eat dinner without him.”

He let me look at his screen. At the end of his message, Bentley was even bold enough to add, “Have fun!” Bennett muttered something under his breath about Bentley before texting back to his brother, probably a death threat.

“So will we be leaving?” I asked him.

Bennett looked at me. “Do you want to?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

He looked around and I saw he met the eyes and the pissed off waiter. “Well, we already made a reservation, we might as well eat.” He then motioned the waiter to come. “I’ll have two of the chef’s specials, thank you.”

The waiter looked like he was going to cry with us finally ordering.

I frowned. “It won’t be just a salad, would it?”

Bennett raised an eyebrow. “Of course not, I know you better than that.”

I smiled. “How much will it be?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“So I can help you pay,” I said.

“You don’t have to do that Naomi,” he assured me. “The food is-”

“Light years out of my price range,” I finished, “but I still want to help. Bentley didn’t want me to pay, actually saying that women don’t have to pay. I was obviously happy about not paying, but he didn’t have to say it like that. Now, I want to help pay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure.”

Bennett hesitated for a moment and then mumbled the price to me.

“WHAT?” I nearly exclaimed, making heads turn.

“Each,” he added.

I looked at the food around me, my head spinning at the prices they could be. Lobster, crab, caviar, veal, steak, truffles, and so many other stereotypical rich people food raced into my mind.

“I’m scared,” I whispered hastily with a horrified look on my face. “I’m not welcome here. Where am I? Someone save me. Help-”

Bennett grabbed my hand, making me stop. “Hey, it’s alright. That’s why I’m paying, so you won’t be freaking out in the first place.”

“I don’t want you to spend this kind of money on me,” I told him. “That’s money I’ll never make in a lifetime.” I looked down at myself. “Where’s my wallet? I think it ran away when it heard the price. Maybe I should go after-”

He looked at me with a concerned look. “Are you that uncomfortable?”

I looked torn. “Bennett, we’ve known each other for a while now, so you must know I don’t care about the prices in things. Food is food to me. You could give me a burger off a food truck and I’d still be happy, but these prices are just ridiculous. It’s not like I don’t want to be here with you, I just don’t want to be… here, in this restaurant, with the prices themselves scaring me.”

Bennett was quiet for a moment before he abruptly stood up from his chair. “C’mon, we’re leaving.”

I felt like a total jerk now. “Bennett I-“

“I didn’t want to eat here anyway,” he said with a smile. “And there’s something better to see than this restaurant.”

Before I could say anything, he began to walk away from the table. I stood out of my seat and walked after him. We passed by the waiter already carrying our food.

“We’re not hungry anymore,” Bennett lied, but made the guy drop the food.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

I think I was too slow because Bennett grabbed my hand to make me walk faster.

“Um, Bennett?” I asked him as I looked behind us.

“Yeah?”

“The exit is the other way,” I pointed out.

“We’re not going out of the restaurant. We’re going to the heart and soul of it.”

We swerved around the tables, almost ramming into the chairs and food. Bennett ducked just in time, missing the waiter’s platter of food. I side step another waiter’s path, almost ruining a plate filled with desserts. We stopped at the door that led to the kitchen. Bennett looked around cautiously then slowly opened the door for us to go in.

My eyes widen at the new world I just entered.

It was like the busy kitchen of the movie, Ratatouille. No one stopped. Everyone was on the go, like bees in a beehive. Cooks, chefs were running back and forth to fill up never ending orders as the waiters came in and out of the kitchen to deliver that very order. There were yells that the order was almost done or that the order for table something was already done. People cursed, shouted, and gave words of encouragement, working together. Then the smells of the food, each of different kinds, cuisines got to me.

I’m in food heaven.

“Bennett?”

The both of us looked at the direction a voice called his name. It ended up coming from a big burly cook with a full on beard. He had tattoos down his arms, which I noticed as he wiped his hand on his already dirty apron from the food he must’ve handled all night. The guy came up to Bennett and suddenly picked him up off his feet, pulling him into a big bear hug. I couldn’t help but snicker at the close hug Bennett got that didn’t suit him at all. The guy then set Bennett back on the ground.

“Hi,” Bennett replied.

“What are you doing here? You’re not due for another night until next we- Who’s this?” The guy asked with his eyes on me now. “Did you only come here to impress a girl?”

Bennett shot him a glare and then introduced us. “Naomi, this is my friend, Cooke.”

“Cook what?”

“That’s his name, Cooke.”

“Chef James Cooke,” he said, holding out his hand to me, which I took to shake. “But everyone called me Chef Cooke, I only let a few call me Cooke.”

“That can’t seriously be your name,” I said, noting the pure irony in this.

“Which would you rather prefer then?” Chef Cooke asked me. “I became a chef just because my last name is Cooke or that I changed my last name to Cooke just because I became a chef?”

“Either one makes sense.”

“That’s what they all say,” he told me.

I looked at Bennett. “Is it just a coincidence that the same restaurant Bentley told us to meet is where Chef Cooke works?”

“With my brother, I doubt it.”

Chef Cooke suddenly tossed a rag at Bennett. “C’mon, we’re going to need help with the dinner rush.”

Bennett nodded and quickly left, assuring me he’ll come back.

“You said earlier Bennett’s not due until next week,” I told him. “Does he work here?”

“Yes and no,” he told me. “He’s merely just interning here, or at least that’s what he wants. To this day, he’s still refusing to take a real job here. I don’t know why though, the kid already has his own locker, he just doesn’t want the paycheck.”

“Well obviously because he doesn’t need it.”

He laughed. “Yes, you’re right about that.”

I blinked. “You know he’s…”

“Why of course,” Chef Cooke told him. “Who do you think was the one who taught him the difference between mincing, dicing and chopping?”

I opened my mouth to say something but Bennett came back to us. I looked at him to see he changed his whole attire. He wore a crisp white chef jacket that’s sleeves were folded up to his elbows, with black pants and a black apron. He walked over to us, taking off his earring and putting them in his pocket.

Then for the first time, I saw Bennett in his place. He used knifes, spoons, spatulas, to me every single utensil out there. I watched as he minced, diced and chopped vegetables, but since I wasn’t the chef here, I merely saw him cutting up vegetables. He fried, baked, grilled, barbecued, stew, roasted and a whole bunch of other terms Chef Cooke told me as Bennett cooked. It was amazing to see Bennett in his zone. Though I saw him sweat under the pressure, I could see how happy he was. The fire in his eyes matched the fire under the frying pan.  

He barked orders at the other cooks, as if he was the head cook. The thing was though, was that they listened, they were probably used to his leading. Letting a high schooler walk in, change into chef clothes, and order them around.

“I remembered when he first picked up a knife.”

I looked at Chef Cooke in bewilderment.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I was there, and he was barely out of elementary when I let him. Now look at my little protégé now,” he said, feigning like he was about to cry, I think.

I didn’t get something though. “If you were the one who taught him how to cook, especially that young, how…”

“I used to be the personal chef of the Fraziers as well as catered their parties,” he answered. “Even when he was little, he’d love to just watch me prepare dinner along with his mother.” He glanced at Bennett who was busy fixing a soufflé before continuing. “In parties, he’d rather hang out in the kitchen instead of with the guests. It wasn’t until later, did I finally let him help me cook, of course with his father not knowing.”

“Do you still work for the Fraziers?”

He shook his head. “No, after a little incident…”

“An incident?” I repeated.

“A huge misunderstanding,” he explained. “One of the guests was allergic to one of the h’ordeuvres and Bennett’s father had to take full blame of his, and I quote, “servant’s poor cooking”. I quit right after that remark, never looked back. A few months after that, Bennett tracked me down and asked if he could apprentice under me, and now we’re here today.”

“Huh,” I muttered, looking back at Bennett.

“You’re the first girl Bennett ever brought here, y’know,” he told me.

I looked away, confused why he had to say that. “We just happened to be here and he wanted to show me this place.”

“Are you sad that your date was ruined given he’d rather work?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said hotly. “I’d say this night is great.”

“Did you hear that, Bennett?” Chef Cooke called out to him.

Bennett looked up just as the fire under his frying pan was engulfed in flames before the fire died down. “Hear what?” He asked calmly.

“I was just pointing out how you would rather work than be with your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he told him at the same time as I said, “I’m not his girlfriend.”

When the dinner rush calmed down, Bennett walked back to me, wiping his forehead with a clean rag. He looked tired, but I could see the pride in himself, letting me watch him cook for the first time. He took out his earrings from his pocket and I helped him put them back on.

“Since you didn’t want to eat anything from here because of the high prices…” he began.

Chef Cooke shot him a glare. “Hey, someone’s gotta make a living, and we have high quality food here-“

Bennett waved him off. “How about we eat something I made?”

I smiled. “I’d like that.”

We sat at a seclude counter of the kitchen, still having the view of the busy kitchen. Bennett set a plate before me and I instantly began to eat it. Then I paused when I saw him looking at me.

“You don’t look at someone while they eat,” I told him, my face red in both embarrassment and the slight spiciness of the food. “It ruins the flow.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, beginning to eat his food now. “I just wanted to see if you liked it.”

“Of course I do,” I said brightly, seeing the smile on his face. “This is not the first time I ate something you cooked, and it better not be the last. Though, I’d want to see you cook more.”

“You do?” He asked me. “I’m all messy and-” he paused and sniffed the collar of his jacket “-for some reason smell like squid. How do I smell like squid? I didn’t handle any squid tonight.”

I burst out laughing, having to take a sip of water to calm myself. He was at first confused what was so funny, but still couldn’t help but chuckle at my reaction.

“Now tell me this,” I said between bites. “What made you want to cook in the first place?”

“It called to me.”

I blinked. “Really?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m kidding.” He paused and looked at the kitchen. “I saw you and Cooke talking while I was cooking. I bet I know who the topic of that conversation was.”

I admitted shyly who it was.

“School, politics, stocks, it was all so boring to me. Always having to talk about it during those lame parties I was forced to attend,” he said as he leaned against the counter. “As people talked though, no one seemed to pay attention to the food at all, nor did they appreciate the blood, sweat, and tears from those who cooked for them-” he said as he motioned to the kitchen we were in. “The kitchen looked so alive compared to the dead banquet hall everyone came for. When I figured out I was going in the direction of having to be in that very banquet hall, I decided I rather be here instead.”

“I don’t get it though,” I told him, as I twirled my fork. “If you rather cook and don’t want to do anything with your family then why do you spend your money so carelessly? How is he even letting you do it in the first place?”

He let out a chuckle. “Most kids get toys or clothes from their parents, all I got was money. Sure, most kids won’t complain. With my dad though, he just had a check ready for me, that someone wrote for him because he probably didn’t even remember. To me, I rather have some cheap gift from the heart than anything he gave me. I got so much money, I created my own savings account. The money I’m so “carelessly spending” is from my dad himself. I’m just waiting for the moment he finally had enough and will cut me off.”

I frowned at the harshness of how he said this.

“Why hasn’t he yet? He can freeze your credit card, can’t he?”

“We have so much money, I doubt he even notices. The money I spend barely scratches our money, so he doesn’t really care.” He paused then looked away. “I didn’t mean to say it like I was bragging.”

“No, you were merely stating a fact.”

“That’s exactly what bragging is.”

“Yes, but you’re not a bragger, therefore you’re not bragging.” I saw him smile at that.

He told me that he spends his money so carelessly to make his dad mad. I don’t think that’s it though. With no way of really showing us how much he cares, he does it by paying for us, like paying for friendship, only we didn’t ask for it.

“Remember back at the roof when I asked you to be more open to us?” I asked him.

He nodded. “Yes, what about it?”

“I’m glad we were able to do this,” I said.

Bennett smiled at that. “Me too.”

The rest of the night we just ate and talk until the restaurant was about to close. Bennett drove e back home in his car, and despite my protest he doesn’t have to, he walked me over to the porch.

“I had a great time,” I told him. “Which is surprising because-”

“Bentley was supposed to be there?” Bennett finished.

I paused for a moment. “Is it just me or do you think he set this whole thing up?”

“The world may never know with my brother.”

We awkwardly stood there, on my porch, late at night. Bennett awkwardly put his hands in his pockets and gave me a small nod with a slight smile. I watched as he walked back to his car, just as he was about to go into his car, he gave me a small wave, which I waved back to him.

But will the world ever know the real you?

Another Bennomi action for you guys, given that's the #1 ship. Anywho, I just tried this awesome Mediterranean dessert called baklava. If you know it, bask in the glory of eating it with me. If you don't know it, try it and bask along with the rest of us. It's delivious, waffery, just... beautiful, heaven in the mouth. Something Bennett would totally appreciate.

It was fun adding some cooking to this chapter. Though my only experience is this TV show called "Hells Kitchen" (Please excuse the word) with Gordon Ramsey. I love reading the memes. And this manga called "Hell's Kitchen". For any manga (not anime, it's only a manga) read it, it's hilarious, awesome, Dogma is hot, and did I say hilarious? 

At the part of "sterotypical rich people food" in which I listed some fancy-smanchy rich people food, I had to look up some of them. Obviously I typed in "rich people food" in which I found a website literally called richpeoplefood.com. Amazed at the convenience and blunt name, I clicked to it only to find out it's really some band, an indie rock. I never really heard indie before, so I gave their first song a try "Run Riot Run" and I love it. So I hope you guys like the song up there. Which is so cool how Wattpad once again updated it's screen style.

If you use Wattpad on the computer, website, like me, you'll see this major difference in how you read chapters. Do you guys like it? I do, it's a pretty refreshing thing to see. Sure, it might be something to get used to, but it's alright. 

Anway, I'll go back to watching "The Road to El Dorado" (I LOVE Tulio and Miguel for their awesome bromance and scary likeness of Thor and Loki...) and I'll be back to you guys soon. Not for a weekly update though, that's all I'm saying.

RubixCube89201