-----------------------------TITLE: Culinaria L'amore

LENGTH: 425
DATE: Nov 02, 2011
VOTE COUNT: 3140
READ COUNT: 573882
COMMENT COUNT: 320
LANGUAGE: English
AUTHOR: Infatuated
COMPLETED: 1
RATING: 3
MODIFY DATE: 2014-12-13 13:23:07
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Introduction*
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CULINARIA L'AMORE 2011, Anne Richards, All rights reserved.
This book, "Culinaria L'amore," including all chapters, epilogues, and associate
d content is copyrighted. All rights reserved by the owner and creator of this w
ork and any unauthorized copying, broadcasting, manipulation, distribution or se
lling of this work constitutes as an infringement of copy right. Any infringemen
t of this copyright is punishable by law.
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Culinaria L'amore Prologue*
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Prologue
The day of my father's funeral was one filled with heavy, gray clouds and a stro
ng wind that nearly knocked over the makeshift, blue tent all the mourners found
refuge in. The sun couldn't be seen and green leaves were blowing everywhere de
spite the fact that it was the beginning of August, a time in Colorado where eve
rything was supposed to still be intact.
Unlike my life, as dramatic and soap opera-ish as it sounds.
I sat in the first row of chairs, staring mutely ahead as my uncle began his spe
ech. My short, black dress was itching my sides because of the strange lace mate
rial and the wind caused my hair to fly into my face, but I didn't move as I twi
sted my father's eulogy in my hands. The paper was soft and wrinkled when I ryth
mically smoothed up the sheet on my knee before twisting it up again and repeati
ng the tedious process. I could feel my mother's sobs as she placed her head on
my shoulder and could see the tears dripping down my uncle's face as he read fro
m his paper. The only thing I refused to acknowledge was the sturdy, brown, wood
en coffin that held my deceased father, covered in an array of red and blue flow
ers and a picture of him smiling on the Florida beach.
Before, I always thought that I was supposed to have life planned out. After gra
duating high school, I was supposed to live the rest of my life working as a che
f in my father's small but pleasant restaurant, L'amore, and maybe, just maybe,
falling in love with the ideal man, or even a mediocre one, and have a kid or tw
o. In some sense, I thought that life would go perfectly on course, not missing
a step and avoiding the bumps as I went through life's journey. Never once did I
think of mortality and how someone's life could stop so suddenly.
That was easily the definition of naivety, the nice word for stupidity.
My hand crumpled into a fist, wrinkling my speech again, as I thought of how cru
el life could be. Just as I started believing my life was on the right path, Ada
m Ramsey, convicted criminal, just had to hop into a stolen police car and barre

l into the taxi containing my father. The death had been instant, the emergency
room doctors had muttered as they tried to comfort my mother hours after he pass
ed away. But nothing could soften the blow of a wonderful man's death because my
father's fifty-four years of life had been stolen, just like the police car, an
d nobody could do anything to stop it. Reality.
Empty words of strangers never helped, and looking at my frail mother and imagin
ing my own haggard self, we were the epitome of why it was always good to have a
backup plan, in case something else failed.
I shot back into reality as mother's bony elbow gently jabbed into my side, noti
cing that my uncle had finally finished reading his letter and that most mourner
s' eyes were focused on me. I stood up shakily, trying to smooth out my crumpled
paper without the support of my knee as I headed to the raised podium and clear
ed my voice, staring down at the microphone beginning to read in a soft tone.
"My father was the kind of man that didn't like to wait for something to happen,
whether it was a dream of his to come true or the next shipment of vegetables.
Somehow, he found a way to live every second of his life to the very fullest, an
incredible feat. His love of food influenced many around him and his joy of lif
e was absolutely contagious to those he knew."
I continued reading as I looked around at the band of people, having reread my o
wn speech enough times that the words just flowed out of my mouth. I saw custome
rs of his restaurant and people who had talked to him incessantly. The mailman t
hat delivered the mail every morning was even there, trying to indiscreetly wipe
away the tears that had fallen onto his stuffy grey suit, that showed off his p
ouched belly, with a napkin.
There were also some people that I didn't recognize. My father had many friends
and that was obvious from the amount of people that had crowded into the white t
ent. My eyes fell on a sophisticated looking Italian woman who was crying freely
, while leaning her head on a broad shoulder.
For some reason I seemed to recognize her from a picture I had seen before yet c
ouldn't recall exactly where. In my current state, there was no way I could reme
mber though. As I mulled over it, I realized that I had seen her recently. Looki
ng to the right of the woman, my sight came in eye contact with a pair of icy gr
ey eyes that stared openly at me with a slight scowl on a handsome face.
I felt myself stutter but could barely hear my own words as I continued staring,
not wavering from his glare. There was a flip in my stomach as he didn't look a
way and I could feel myself being drawn into his intense eyes.
They were a strange color, definitely. At first glance, they looked dark grey bu
t as I continued dissecting every millimeter I could see, they seemed to change
colors, from blue to an icy light green. I couldn't put my finger on what exact
color I was looking at because as he moved, the reflection would appear in a dif
ferent shade.
Either way though, the cold, flat look he was giving me caused me to cease the c
onstant flow of words coming out of my mouth, snapping out of my staring contest
when someone cleared their throat. Realizing that I had stopped talking and was
merely standing, limply holding my tear stained paper, I walked quickly to my s
eat and sat down in haste. It didn't matter that I had only read half of my eulo
gy; everyone probably thought that I was too emotionally distressed to continue.
I only wanted to sit so my legs would stop shaking.
I could hear my mom mutter something in my ear but I couldn't register what she
was saying as I looked for the man that had captivated my gaze. The pastor, a go
od family friend, was giving his last few words and then everyone that had been
seated stood up, most heading to the refreshment table while a few walked in my
direction.
I could hear people giving my mother and me consolations, some speaking in rapid
Italian with hand gestures while others resorting simply to hugs. By the time t
he majority left, I had been hugged too many times to remember and it smelled li
ke I had gone to Macy's and sampled every varying bottle of perfume and cream av
ailable.
It was late in the afternoon when my mother's sisters-in-law took my father's co
ffin away. They were going to give him a traditional Italian burial. The relatio

nship between my mother and my father's sisters had never been good because they
always blamed her for taking him away from them. I felt my mother stiffen when
they stuffed his coffin in the back of their car, not knowing if it was because
of the careless way they placed him in or if it had to do with the fact that we
not been invited to the burial. Hooking my mother's arm through mine, I manuever
ed her away, not wanting to subject her to more sadness and pain.
When most people realized that there was nothing left to talk about and that it
was getting chilly, they slowly began trickling away, waving last goodbyes befor
e heading to the parking lot. I stood close to my mom as we cleaned up some of t
he mess in the rows of chairs when a pair of arms engulfed us both.
"Oh my Rosemary! I am so sorry for your loss." A heavily accented voice muttered
as she let go of me and continued hugging my mother. She was a tall woman, towe
ring over my mom's five foot six frame, maybe contributed by her five inch black
heels, and had curly black hair that blew in the breeze. As she let go of my mo
ther, she turned to me, shocking me as I realized it was the Italian woman I had
seen crying as I made my eulogy.
"I am so sorry for your loss Kirsten. Your father was a good man." She came to h
ug me and I let her, wondering how she knew my name. Her grip was incredibly str
ong for a thin woman like her and I could feel my breath being forced through my
lungs painfully.
A person cleared their throat loudly and the woman let go of me. I looked over h
er shoulder as she advanced on the guy who had interrupted her greeting and real
ized that I was once again staring into the bottomless pits of grey-green-blue.
"Rosemary, how could I forget? Do you still recognize Garrett? He's grown up to
be a fine young man right? Already starting to take over his father's culinary i
nstitute."
At the mention of the school, my mind seemed to connect two and two. "You're Yiv
anni Bianchi, aren't you? Wife of Robert Bianchi, founder of the Bianchi Culinar
y Institute." I blurted out, interest and a bit of excitement blooming in my sto
mach. Despite the fact that I was at my father's funeral, the Bianchis were prob
ably the biggest chef family who owned thousands of restaurants across the world
and the founder of Bianchi Culinary Institute. They were so illustrious in Amer
ica that they spent their time chatting it up with Bobby Flay or the president o
f the United States, not simple people like my family. Bianchi Culinary Institut
e was famous for creating some of the most celebrated chefs around the world. Th
eir specialization was Italian culinary but Robert Bianchi was known for being a
ble to teach and make any dish in the world.
Yivanni Bianchi frowned at me before turning to my mother. "Rosemary? Is your da
ughter insinuating that you never told her that you knew of me?" Turning to me,
she gave me a warm smile."Your mother and I were sorority sisters in college. In
separable and joined at the hip, always getting into trouble. Well until I marri
ed Robert. Do you not remember the numerous play dates you and Garrett had as ch
ildren?"
Before I could reply, a baritone voice rang out, firm and clear with no Italian
accent. "Mom, I think we should get going. Dad's flight to Beijing is in three h
ours. Exchange numbers or something okay? We have to go." Irritation was clear i
n his voice and despite his incredible looks, chiseled face and all, I could tel
l he had a crappy personality on the inside, immediately making my respect for h
im dwindle.
Yivanni nodded before slowly giving my mother one last hug and rapidly rattling
off a string of numbers. Then with a flourish and a traditional kiss on both che
eks, she and her son left, moving quickly towards the limo that was idling on th
e side of the street. Just as the car pulled away, it began raining, soaking me
through and finally collapsing the flimsy tent.
Like in all the sappy romance movies, and the occasional action ones when the he
ro desperately kisses the heroine or drops of water fall on a ravaged city, rain
represented gloom, but a new beginning- a new beginning for me.
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter One*
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Chapter One
"Wait, what do you mean by L'amore is closing? Last time I checked, which was la
st night thank you very much, I was cooking in the back, and customers were enjo
ying our cuisine. I'm sorry sir, but I think you're a nutcase to be assuming tha
t."
I sighed as the nasal sounding lawyer on the other side muttered something about
legal ownership and property taxes, none of which I gave a damn about or frankl
y, understood. Twisting the white phone cord around my wrist, wincing slightly w
hen it brushed against my newest oil burn, thanks to the busboy not drying the p
an, I resisted sighing loudly into the phone so the insistent man could get the
point.
"Yes sir, I understand your um... concern in the matter that my father never sig
ned the ownership over to me, but if you recall, my father didn't have enough ti
me as he lay burning in a car to sign any shitty documents. Now if you would ple
ase excuse me... I believe you should take a break from all those gossip magazin
es, alright?"
His annoying voice was cut off by the sound of the phone slamming against my pur
ple bedroom wall.
Taking a deep breath, I ran my fingers through my hair, resisting screaming loud
ly and pulling a couple dark strands out of my head. For the past month, our pho
ne was being clogged constantly by lawyers, buyers, and gold diggers, all reques
ting to buy L'amore or badgering me about one senseless thing or another. In a s
ense, it made me feel proud that so many business men found interest in such a s
mall restaurant, but the countless phone calls and legal sounding speeches were
starting to get on my worn out nerves. Along with having to console my mother, w
ork from nine in the morning to ten at night, trying to ward off greedy pigs was
not something I wanted to be doing.
I heard the pantry door slam close and could hear my mother's laughter from down
stairs. She was chatting on her cell phone and her voice rang merrily, signifyin
g that she was talking to Yivanni Bianchi.
After the funeral, the two seemed to reconcile and now my mother couldn't go a d
ay without talking with her former college friend. The conversations the two had
seemed to be the only thing that anchored my mother to the present world, me in
cluded as sad as it was. Hearing her walk up the stairs, I exited my room, putti
ng a small smile on my face as I went to greet her.
"I don't know how she is doing right now to tell you the truth. All Kirsten's be
en doing is work, work, and work. You should see the horrible burns she gets on
her arms from carelessly cooking. I feel like she needs a break. I rarely see he
r in the morning because she's always rushing off and she doesn't get home until
ten thirty! You know, she didn't go to college mainly because her dream was to
cook with her father. And now that he's gone, I'm afraid she doesn't have enough
friends or a social life for a nineteen year old. She's matured so fast, Yivann
i, even before her father died."
I stopped short when I heard my name, silently hiding around the corner between
the bathroom and the stairwell, curious as to what my mom was saying about me.
"I know, I know, I'll think about okay? I know she would love to go but I'm not
sure if she is willing to leave me and her restaurant. She has such a sense of l
oyalty and responsibility that sometimes I don't know what to do... But of cours
e we'll be there tonight. We wouldn't miss it for anything. You're such a darlin
g friend."
My mother paused before muttering something indistinguishable in Italian. There
was small frown on her face when she finally hung up, seen through the cracks in
the stairwell..
"Hey mom," I greeted cheerfully, coming out into the hallway once I felt the coa
st was clear, giving her a small hug and a kiss on the cheek. She seemed surpris
ed to see me still at home and not at the restaurant yet but managed to hide it
well, replacing it with genuine guilt on her wrinkled, yet still youthful Sophia
Loren-looking, face.

"Hi honey. What are you still doing at home?. Doesn't Pierre want you at the res
taurant at nine? It's already ten."
I inwardly cursed the lawyer from earlier who had sidetracked me from getting to
work, but put on my how can I help you? restaurant smile that I used for the im
patient customers and crying toddlers. "I'm taking a break today. My arms hurt e
nough today without having to add one or two more burns to my growing collection
. Besides, I wanted to stay at home with my mother. Pierre totally understood."
What a lie. Pierre was probably fuming.
Ever since my father's death, my mother had stayed unemployed. Before, she had b
een a wonderful real estate agent but decided to 'take a break' when he passed a
way. She claimed that she was too nervous and fragile to be working with other p
eople, something I could totally believe thanks to her frail appearance, so my f
ather's funds and my job were the only breadwinners of the family.
My thoughts shifted to my father, newly buried under six feet of dirt and rock.
Our family had never been the most religious like some, but sometimes, like now,
I wondered if he was watching over us, guiding me in the right direction of my
life. Like, was he holding the reins to the future, acting like my guardian ange
l?
My mother cleared her throat, jolting me out of my own fervent thoughts.
"So honey, Yivanni just called and she invited you and me to come over to her ho
use and have dinner. Apparently Mr. Bianchi returns from Beijing today and she i
s hosting a homecoming party. I told we would attend," my mother blushed at this
statement, "but I wanted to run this by you to make sure you were okay with it.
"
My excitement rose as I thought about the prospects of going to the Bianchi mans
ion. It wasn't because of the extraordinary size that caught my attention - our
small Victorian house suited me just fine - it was the ideal that I would get to
step into the house of a famous culinary instructor whose name could be found n
early everywhere.
My mother seemed to be able to read my starry-eyed expression and broke out into
a sunny smile.
"This is going to amazing, Kirsten. I remember you telling me at the age of four
that when you grew up, you would become a successful chef. Maybe your dream wil
l finally come true." Her somber expression caught me off guard but before I cou
ld over analyze it, she broke out into another smile.
"Since you have the day off, Kirsten, why don't we go shopping for clothes tonig
ht? I know I need a new dress and we should consider doing something with that o
bstinate hair of yours."
And thus, began another day.
***************
"Kirsten, honey, are you ready yet? It's almost six and you know how bad I am wi
th directions!"
I sighed as my mother's voice ran into my room. I was standing in front of my fl
oor length mirror, inspecting every inch of me to see if I was presentable enoug
h. My chocolate brown hair had been curled to perfection earlier today; every st
rand was hanging in a loose spiral. The stylist at the salon also kindly offered
me a mani, pedi, and makeup package which was why my toenails were painted a de
ep red - even though you couldn't see them inside my red pumps - and my makeup w
as better than the normal eyeliner-lipgloss combo. I was wearing a long, golden
dress that was tight around the jewel-studded bodice and waist, but flowed out t
o collect around my feet, the same dress I had worn to senior prom.
"Honey, you look gorgeous like usual. Can we please go now?"
I jumped in fright as my mom's voice came closer than before. Turning around, I
saw that see was at my open door, her jeweled arm on her hip, looking at me with
impatience and pride. She, herself, looked pretty nice as well. She had bought
a deep blue dress, after hours of searching and deciding, to match her gold heel
s, and had gotten her hair up in a sophisticated bun that made her look much you
nger.
"Mom, chill." I muttered, "you're about as nervous as a child going to her very
first slumber party. We have time. Lots of time, actually." But to appease my mo

m, I grabbed my clutch, took her outstretched hand, and out into the car we went
.
After driving around on the highway, through forests and random roads, some of w
hich I had never seen or heard about before, my mother finally parked at the Bia
nchi's incredibly long driveway, clearly agitated at her misguiding map. While s
he ranted on the possibilities of suing MapQuest for incorrect directions, I was
stunned into silence by the sheer beauty of the house.
There were at least six floors from what I could see, with random balconies and
terraces around the whole place. A fountain was pouring continuous streams of wa
ter in the courtyard, the beautiful artificial lights from the lanterns illumina
ting summer's most beautiful flowers that hung in vines and in baskets. The over
all color was a dark tan, half made of red stones and the other half made of woo
d and clay.
I was shaken out of my drooling by an elderly man that cleared his voice. Then I
realized that he had opened up the door for me, foot tapping on the paved groun
d. I blushed and muttered my thanks before stepping slowly out onto the ground.
My mother was already out of the car and excitement shone obvious on her face. T
ogether we carefully walked up the remainder of the driveway in our heels and we
re met by a pair of double wooden doors with brass knockers.
Before my mom could raise her hand and knock, the door to the right flung open,
revealing the entire Bianchi family.
Yivanni, dressed in a dazzling purple gown that made me feel cheap, had opened u
p the door and was beaming from bedazzled ear to bedazzled ear. To her right, a
little back was Robert Bianchi, who stood in an Armani suit, looking on regally
with a small warm smile on his face. My breath caught in my throat as I stared a
t him. To my uncomprehensible disappointment, I didn't see their son, the one wi
th the captivating grey eyes that had caught my attention at the funeral.
"Oh Rosemary and Kirsten! Thank you so much for coming!" Yivanni gushed, holding
my mother's hands and giving her two air kisses.
My mom mirrored the smile and went to greet Mr. Bianchi. I suddenly felt shy as
we entered their home and walked to the dining room. It was a fine place to dine
, complete with portraits and golden silverware and I almost expected The Last S
upper to be hanging up on the walls, complimenting the rest of the Classism art.
I sat down at the long table and the adults took the seats near me, Mr. Bianchi
at the head, Yivanni next to him, and my mother next to her.
We only occupied a third of the entire table.
My mind was blank as the appetizer was brought to the table, just a simple fried
calamari with marinade sauce and a salad. I could vaguely hear my mom laughing
at something someone said, but I wasn't paying enough attention to hear exactly
what. I wasn't sure what to say to Mr. Bianchi, who was digging into his food an
d lending an ear to his wife's conversation, so I sat at my spot, trying to eat
my calamari with a salad fork instead of with my hands..
Halfway through the first course, mom and Yivanni's chatter filling up the dinne
r table, the dining room doors burst open, revealing a very scattered, windblown
looking Garrett. I looked up to see what had caused the door to make a loud ban
g, and there he was in all his glory, staring at me angrily with his stormy eyes
.
This night was about to get a lot more interesting.
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Two*
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Chapter Two
Silence followed Garrett's dramatic entrance, no one speaking until the handsome
intruder's face turned red from anger and he exploded.
"What is the meaning of 'Robert Bianchi proud to announce that his son will take
over the Bianchi Culinary Institute at age 25!' What crap is this dad? When did

I ever agree to any of this shit?" Garrett waved his arms around and that was w
hen I saw the crumpled People magazine in his hand.
Mr. Bianchi stiffened as he gripped his salad fork harder; suddenly his once kin
d face became a blank mask, but not before an uncontrollable rage in his eyes co
uld be stopped.
The tension in the room was stifling and I awkwardly prodded a piece of squid, n
ot looking up from my plate, realizing that I wasn't supposed to be hearing such
a private conversation.
"Garrett, sweetie, please calm down. Rob, can't we talk about this later? You di
dn't forget about our guests did you?" Yivanni said sweetly, her hand rubbing he
r husband's back. "Do join us Garrett; you do remember Mrs. Bellini and her daug
hter Kirsten. Right?"
My mother cleared her throat awkwardly before standing up and giving a reluctant
Garret a hug. "How are you Garrett? It's nice being able to talk to you for muc
h longer than the last time we met. It's a shock to see you so old."
Garrett shot his father a murderous glare before taking a seat. The seat next to
mine. I stiffened unconsciously as a whiff of his cologne came over me and his
arm rested on the table where mine had been a millisecond ago.
"It's been decent Mrs. Bellini. I just got my teacher's permit so I'll be teachi
ng at the Institute once school begins." His voice was slightly stiff as a maid
set down his plate. From the tone of his voice, I could tell that he didn't seem
to like the prospect of teaching, or taking over anything.
An awkward silence followed as everyone resorted to eating and conversation seem
ed to die. I couldn't help myself but glance at the handsome guy sitting next to
me. From the side view, I could see his strong facial bone structure and high c
heekbones, a face worthy of being on the cover of Vogue.
His dark brown hair was slightly windswept and his skin was tinged a pale pink,
contrasting with his creamy, tan skin. I was wondering what his eyes looked like
because for some reason they looked blue instead of grey tonight, but didn't wa
nt to stare openly to find out the answer, when suddenly, he turned in his seat
and smirked at me.
My heart nearly stopped when he gave me an arrogant smile and whispered, "Like w
hat you're seeing?"
I was not exactly wrong when I had thought his eyes were blue. Surrounded by lon
g eyelashes, his eyes were tinged with a light blue and green, getting lighter a
nd lighter as it went closer to his pupil.
But that didn't matter. I was simply appalled; how could someone so effortless m
ove from being completely upset to arrogant and suave? It just didn't make sense
, unless he was a superb actor trained by Meryl Streep. Or he was bipolar which
seemed much more likely than the previous idea. Actually, bipolar seemed to fit
him a bit too well.
Looking around with a blush on my face, I realized that my mom was in an avid co
nversation with Garrett's parents and that they hadn't heard anything he had jus
t said to me. Remembering that he was waiting for a reply, I turned to face him
completely, dropping my fake smile along with my etiquette as a scowl appeared o
n my face.
"In your dreams."

He grinned at me as I stabbed my remaining green olive and leaned close enough f

or me to get affirmation that he smelled like my personal heaven. Vanilla and af
tershave definitely hit my weak spot.
"I don't think so Kirsten," he muttered, and when he said my name, shivers went
down my back. However, before my hormones could fully fall for his charms, he co
ntinued talking to me. "Maybe... no, definitely, in your dreams."
***************
I could barely concentrate as my mom and the Bianchis continued talking. The mai
n course had long been done and I was currently sitting on a red leather love se
at, stabbing dissolutely at my tiramisu. I could hear Garrett talking with my mo
ther, causing her to laugh once in a while at his jokes. So far, I had not said
a single word.
'How could he?' I fumed, watching my dessert fall onto its side after one last b
rutal jab. The guy was an obviously spoiled brat who didn't know how to keep his
trap shut. I sure as hell had no superficial feelings for him and his good look
s now after his last comment. The quote, "Never judge a book by its cover," seem
ed fitting for tonight and not in the positive way either.
'Definitely not in my dreams at least. It would be a nightmare if you were in it
' echoed in my head. Who did he think he was? Sure he may be the son of the best
culinary cook in all of history, but as far as I knew, my cooking tasted better
that his and he was just a spoiled, immature boy who lived off his father's ear
nings. The fact that I had been attracted to his looks only made me more upset,
except at myself.
After being in the same room with him for an hour, his true characteristics were
obvious. I had to restrain myself from not stabbing his left hand with my fork
at the dinner table and usually I was never that immature.
"Kirsten, honey?" My head jerked up as I heard Yivanni call my name, blushing as
my fork landed on the plate with a loud clatter.
"Uh sorry, Mrs. Bianchi, I was off in my own little world. Could you repeat what
you just said?" I waved my hand as if to convince them I was alright, not missi
ng the fact that Garrett was laughing at me in his little corner.
Yivanni smiled at me. "It's alright dear. We were just talking about the option
of you coming to the Bianchi Culinary Institute if you wished for a semester or
two. It would be free of course since we're such close friends. We thought it wo
uld be a nice little treat to get some more experience, especially from Rob and.
.. Garrett."
At that moment, my world stopped. Me? At the world's most famous culinary insti
tute? With Robert Bianchi? For free? It seemed way too good to be true. I froze,
staring at Yivanni with my eyebrow still raised and my mouth slightly open. Tha
t must have been what my mom and her were talking about on the phone this mornin
g.
However, before I could get giddy with excitement and jump to conclusions, I tho
ught about my aging mother and my father's beloved restaurant. There was no poss
ible way I would be able to manage both while attending such a demanding and pre
stigious school without neglecting one or the other. My mom was right; family wa
s my number one priority. I didn't need a social life or to be a famous chef.
"I know that it seems like you have a lot on your plate now since you've been th

rown into an unexpected situation. But your mom and I have talked extensively on
the matter and she really feels strongly for you to get the experience that you
've always wanted, honey." Yivanni's voice was comforting, almost bringing tears
into my eyes.
Mr. Bianchi shifted slightly in his seat and Garrett cleared his throat. Before
I knew what I do doing, my mouth opened up and I muttered, "I'll think about you
r generous offer." The words were slightly hoarse and scratchy, causing me to bl
ush and repeat my words, this time a bit louder. However, once they were out, I
immediately felt a wave of guilt wash over me.
Yivanni broke into a huge smile and my mother gave me a slight thumbs up. I hear
d Garrett mumble something under his breath, but from where I sat, I couldn't he
ar him. Not that his words mattered to me in any way. Mr. Bianchi gave me a smal
l pat on the back and everyone acted as if they had convinced me already.
****************
Late that night, long after we had left the Bianchi mansion and my mom had falle
n asleep, I lied on my bed, my mind wandering from one subject to another, but a
lways coming back to a specific one. I now had the chance of a lifetime.
My hair spilled over my pillow as I shifted my head and propped it under my hand
, blinking rapidly at the window that showed off a couple of aspens, barely visi
ble in the moonlight. The night was hot and my comforter was conserving all my b
ody heat, which gave me a reason to still be awake. Even though I was really mul
ling over a hard decision.
I wondered what my father would have told me to do. He probably would of said so
mething along the cheesy lines of 'follow your dreams' but in a situation like t
he one I was currently in, it was hard to follow my heart, especially when there
was so many different paths to choose from.
He would be okay with me going to the institute, right? The family had enough mo
ney to sustain itself without me working too much. Pierre could easily take cont
rol of L'amore for a couple month; he already organized me at work. This questio
n went through my head a dozen times, dizzying, and all I could see was myself b
ecome an amazing cook on some television show or with a recipe book.
Before I knew, my eyes drooped and I fell into an easy sleep.
The next morning, I awoke to the sound of my cell phone blaring next to my pillo
w, continuously singing Lady GaGa's Paparazzi song. That could only mean one thi
ng and it wasn't good.
"Shit," I muttered groggily, squinting at the illuminated screen. Sure enough, P
ierre's number flashed numerous times, and with a sleep induced groan, I picked
up the phone.
Before I was able to utter a single word, an angry voice started yelling at me i
n rapid French, not that I could understand what he was saying. Letting out a si
gh that cut him of mid sentence I muttered, "What got your panties in a twist?"
Pierre's heavily accent rang over the speaker. "You never told me you decided to
give a day off. How you know worried I when when you show up no? And to top it
with a cherry, the stupid lawyer called again, demanding to talk with you."
That was the reason he sounded so mad. Thinking back to yesterday, I realized th
at I never had informed Pierre of my random day off. Frowning, I strained my bra
in to think of why I hadn't shown up. That was when it hit me.

I had been offered a student spot at the most prestigious culinary institute.
Ignoring my manager's ranting, I cut him off and shouted excitedly, "I have amaz
ing news, Pierre. I'll be at L'amore in an hour!"
Not checking the time, I jumped out of bed with renewed energy and dressed as fa
st as I possibly could, throwing on my waitress outfit, and dumping my chef unif
orm in my bag just in case. It took me approximately two minutes to pull my pant
yhose up my legs from excitement, a slight tear near the heel where I scratched
it with my toenail, but in half an hour, I sat in my navy blue Mazda, driving ca
refully down the busy road, a small smile on my face.
L'amore was silent, not a single car parked in the parking lot except for mine a
nd Pierre's shiny Cadillac. Obviously none of the waiters and assistant cooks ha
d bothered to come early. I slowly twisted open the iron gate and paused to wate
r the drooping flowers that hung from the stone walls of the exterior. I noticed
that the grey paint was starting to chip off just a bit, and I made a mental no
te to buy some more later in the afternoon. Then, I rushed inside, eager to tell
Pierre everything.
"Pierre!" I yelled, the second I entered the quiet and dim restaurant, the regul
ar roar of chatter not present due to the fact that it was ten in the morning.
My manager stuck his head out of the kitchen door, an annoyed look on his face.
Pierre was a chubby, old man, and by the look on his weathered face, he was not
exactly pleased to see me. When standing straight, he was 6'3" with wiry grey ha
ir that still managed to curl wildly across his tan forehead and green eyes that
were now glaring at me.
"So the high and mighty finally decides to show up." Even though he was getting
old, Pierre's tongue was still as sarcastic as ever.
My mood slightly sank as I stared at him. He looked really tired and really old,
something that gave me a sinking feeling in my stomach. "Now don't be like that
," I muttered cheerfully, moving so that I was behind the counter, "You know you
missed my presence last night. And yeah, I'm sorry for not calling you but I ha
ve really really good news, Pierre!"
He stared at me for a moment before he reluctantly came out of the door, his fac
e relaxing slightly. "You told me when before you hang up. That was not nice. So
what the good news. I am listen."
"So you know the Bianchis, right?" He nodded his head reluctantly. Before he cou
ld make another smart ass comment, I hurriedly continued. "Well apparently my mo
m was friends with Yivanni Bianchi and we went over to their house last night fo
r dinner. I was so excited that I forgot to call you. But the good part is that
they offered my a spot as a student for the next two semesters. Isn't that great
?"
Instead of receiving the positive reaction I was expecting, Pierre frowned sligh
tly. "The Bianchi Culinary Institute, eh? Tu veux aller Les Bianchis? Pour qoui
tu ne reste pas ici?"
"Excuse me?"
My manager gave me an annoyed look. "Nothing. It is your decision. I am proud ve
ry of you. Your papa would just be as proud. He always want to go to culinary sc
hool to get more experience. Let me see the brochure and letter of acceptance?"

My heart sank as a detail came into my mind, replacing my happiness with guilt a
nd shame. I was not a current student at the institute. Yivanni had offered me t
he position but I had not given a direct answer because of my mother's predicame
nt. Suddenly, I felt incredibly foolish.
"Uh yeah, Pierre, um I don't have it with me but um, but you know, now that I'm
here, what should I do?" I asked swiftly, moving quickly to the black, kitchen d
oor without looking back.
He didn't seem to notice my abrupt and strange change in attitude, but only foll
owed me. "The olives need chopping and soon the chicken has to be put into the o
ven. We be making the olive chicken soup tonight. Very homey and delicious espec
ially since it so cold tonight. That blasted Colorado weather make my bone go ch
illy."
Frowning, I walked to my workspace. It was a whopping sixty degrees outside, ama
zing for Colorado weather in the autumn.
Pushing up my sleeves and grabbing a sharp knife from the stand, I grabbed a han
dful of the oval shaped olives trying to work quickly so that the tedious job co
uld be finished sooner. Within a second, my hand moved in quick movements choppi
ng the green olives into miniature pieces. But my mind wasn't into it. I was thi
nking, my mind going into overdrive.
I really wanted to go to the cooking institute, but in my mind, I thought of the
possible outcomes of my regular life. I didn't know how my mom was going to far
e without my help, and Pierre sure needed me to run the restaurant.
A sharp twinge of pain snapped me out of my reverie and I looked down, shocked a
s a steady trail of blood pooled down onto the olives, staining the brown cuttin
g board and the knife with red liquid. A long jagged cut stretched from my knuck
le to my fingernail, and now that the shock was wearing off, my finger really st
arted hurting.
Dropping the knife as quickly as possible, I heard Pierre cuss next to me. "My p
recious olives! How could you ruin my olives, fresh from Greece?"
Oh god.
I started feeling dizzy as the blood kept on pouring but was numb as Pierre grab
bed my finger and dragged me to the sink and started drizzling alcohol on my han
d. I hissed in pain but stood still until he finished, with my finger bubbling l
ike crazy. Oh lord, it hurt like hell. So bad that I didn't want to remind that
his olives had been in the fridge for the past week.
"That's it, Kirsten, no touching knife again missy. Go clean yourself up and get
out of my kitchen. Go sweep floor or something."
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Three*
####################################
Chapter Three
By the time I got home, which was around midnight, my mom's room's light was sti
ll on, shining through her closed floral drapes. I slowly got out of my car, gin
gerly clutching my bag since my finger was starting to scab over, as I entered t
he silent house. Dropping my bag onto the hardwood floor quietly, my apron rustl
ing, I made my way up the stairs to my mother's room, slightly startled when I h
eard sniffling on the other end.

Opening up her door quietly, I whispered, "Mom?"

I obviously frightened her because she whirled around, dropping a piece of paper
onto the ground, the picture fluttering as it landed onto the cream colored car
pet. As I advanced, I saw that it was a photo of my father, smiling as he posed
next to the Statue of Liberty. He was wearing his favorite Mickey Mouse t-shirt
from the sixties and was making a funny face as he stared at the camera, unaware
of the doom to come in a year.
"Hello, Kirsten, how are you? You left early for work and I didn't get to say by
e. Don't leave without saying bye next time." My mother said, bending over slowl
y to retrieve the photo.
"Mom, I wanted to talk to you about the offer to the Bianchi Culinary Institute.
" I muttered, immediately cutting to the chase.
"Ah, yes. It will be a great experience for you, honey, I suggest that you go."
My mom's wrinkled face lit up at the prospect, though her crow feet looking deep
er and deeper. Her face was showing signs of getting old and her hands loked kno
bbier and thinner than just a few weeks ago. For some reason this only angered m
e. How could my father leave? How?
My mother continued, "And that nice handsome boy, Garrett is simply just the pe
rfect gentleman. You could learn a lot from him." she peered at me owlishly, a s
mall knowing smile in her eyes.
I bit my lip, twisting my purity ring around my finger, trying to control my fru
stration and anger especially at the horrible, juvenile acting man. If only my m
other knew about his bad attitude and cockiness behind all of his sweet words an
d faux mask. "What about you and the restaurant? That's all that we have. And wh
at if you get sick? There will be no one that can help you."
My mom gave a small laugh, embracing me in a hug, her wet cheek pressing against
mine. "Oh, darling you are like your father. Always worrying about the smallest
things."
'Right, small.' I thought as she continued.
"Of course I will be fine. We do have neighbors, no? It has always been your fat
her's dream to attend a culinary institute as famous as the Bianchi's but he nev
er got the chance. He would have been so proud of you if he knew that you were a
ccepted, whether or not it was because I'm friends with Yivanni. I've already ta
lked to Yivanni, and she'll pull up a document for you. Go to bed now. I think w
e will be meeting with them again tomorrow for dinner or something and I want yo
u to look pretty and well rested."
Before I could say anything or protest, she led me to the door, her thin hand on
my back, and waved as she closed it behind me. I took the hint to let her have
some privacy with the memory of her husband.
My mother and father had always been in love. Many couples, after having a kid o
r two resigned to a relationship that was almost like a partnership with friendl
y feelings, not love. But every small peck on the cheek or ruffle of hair was th
e endearments that I wanted with a spouse like my parents had. My mother's pain
was unexplainable, uncomprehensible, even to me.
Walking into my room, cautiously tiptoeing so that I wouldn't stub my toes on so
me object that I probably had hurriedly discarded earlier, my mind shifted to th
e prospect of going to the institute. Even my mother was encouraging me to leave

her and her husband's business to travel 70 miles and learn a trade that had al
ways been my dream.
By the time I was half asleep, my life was changed forever, and I couldn't wait
until a new experience started
**************
"Kirsten? Earth to Kirsten. Helloooo?!"
Sharp jabs in my side made me flinch violently, causing my hand to jolt and the
pitcher of ice to clatter to the ground with a loud, resounding crash. Jackson,
the other waiter that was in my section and the one that had called my name to g
et my attention started cussing and muttering sorries, while rushing to get a br
oom to sweep up the mess he had caused me to make.
I sighed, rubbing my arm across my face. My eyes felt weary and my brown hair wa
s flying across my face like the snakes of Medusa. Sleep had eluded me last nigh
t and the effects were obviously showing today, from the dark bags under my eyes
to my extremely clumsy moments whenever I began to zone out.
Jackson returned with the needed tools to clean up my mess, a small, worried smi
le etched into his face. He stood at six foot three with wide muscular shoulders
and an undeniable six pack under his waiter shirt. With blond hair, grey eyes a
nd dimples on either side of his mouth, Jackson was as hot as it could get. And
the obvious attraction from him was really starting to get on my nerves.
It wasn't that I found his unattractive -even my mother praised his looks as str
ange and awkward as that was- but the simple fact that his flirting was starting
to get very irritating.
"Are you okay? You've been zoning out for the past hour, Pierre's freaking out b
ecause it's already four and the tables aren't set up, and you look like a ghost
."
"Well isn't that the perfect thing to say to a girl," I muttered dryly, giving J
ackson a small smile and starting to mop up the water. "It's really nothing, Jac
k, nothing you have to be worried about. And besides, your girlfriend's giving m
e the evil eye."
Jackson blushed slightly, looking swiftly at Caroline, a petite brunette with bl
ue eyes, who was clearly jealous of my sort of friendship with her crush.
"Aw, don't mind her." He replied, snatching the broom away from me and busily wr
inging out the dirty water. "She's not my girlfriend, Kirsten."
An awkward silence followed so I cleared my throat and muttered, "I'll be in the
kitchen."
Jackson didn't try to follow me, which was good. Ever since he joined L'amore, I
had been trying to get him on a date with any other girl, just not me. For some
reason, he kept on coming back to me like a fly attracted to honey, and I wante
d to be the vinegar, the undesired, which was the issue because Jackson was defi
nitely getting his condiments mixed up. A relationship scared me: more than hot
oil getting mixed with water or sharp knives that could skewer people in half, e
specially with such a perfect looking and acting guy like Jackson.
The second I walked though the kitchen doors, a strong aroma of tomato sauce and
basil wafted into my nose, delightfully tickling my senses. But before I could
fully enjoy the smell, Pierre's voice rang out. "What you think you do in here.

Allons-y allons-y!? I no want to see you. Your finger needs rest so no cooking a
ujour hui ou demain. Non non non, allons-y!"

I smiled at Pierre's little, raging monolgue. Every time he got mad, random spew
s of French would come out, mixed in with his halting English, giving him the so
und of a very confused immigrant.
The other cooks looked at Pierre with bemused smiles before going back to decora
ting platters or chopping vegetables, a couple waving at me with apologetic look
s on their faces.
"Okay, okay, I'm out of here." I threw my hands up in surrender. But before I ex
ited, I shouted out, "You need more basil in that sauce and less garlic. The sme
ll's slightly off."
He grunted in response, but I knew that he was secretly smiling as he made the p
roper adjustments.
"Oh, and one more thing. Do I have to wait tables? I mean, I can still stir and
bake and what not. Please?"
Pierre gave me an admonishing frown. "The only other thing you can do is be a ho
stess. Americanne, especially femme, elles sont tres bete. If I tell you get out
of kitchen, where you think you stir and bake, eh? Le toilette?"
"Did you just call me stupid?" I questioned? "I'm pretty sure you just said 'gir
ls are very stupid'.
"Non non you es tres intelligent." Pierre muttered sarcastically.
I grinned and shook my head, not wanting to argue any longer, and exited the kit
chen.
Jackson caught me by surprise by hiding around the corner as I closed the doors
behind me, jumping out and grabbing my hand before I could snatch it away or pro
test.
"Hey, Kirsten, can I talk to you for just one moment?"
I gave an inaudible, weary sigh then relented, letting him lead me into the dry
goods pantry.
"Okay look Kirsten, I really like you if you haven't noticed." He gave a short,
humorless laugh and I felt bad that he sounded so hurt.
He continued slowly, "I don't know if you like me in that way that I like you bu
t I was wondering if you were willing to maybe give me a chance, ya know? Let me
take you out to dinner some time. Just as friends if you want."
I looked up at Jackson, his grey eyes staring hopefully down into mine. I couldn
't help but feel incredibly bad that he thought that I was leading him on, so I
replied, "yeah, I guess that would be fine."
The look in his eyes, a mixture of glee and adoration, made me almost want to re
gret my decision, but before he could say anything out of line, I muttered quick
ly, "But just one date okay? Then we'll go from there."
He was more than happy to oblige.

***************
"I need one bowl of Spaghetti Feast please with extra parmesan cheese!" I shoute
d through the din of the busy restaurant. "Order number seventy-six; a kid porti
on of our Italian nachos and a Tiramisu."
Surprisingly, my father's
least. Sure, some people
s income was good. Either
ing or didn't know, which
on wounds.

death didn't seem to be disturbing our business in the

had wondered and asked where he had gone, but L'amore'
the customers didn't wish to speak of my father's pass
was fine by me either way. I didn't like rubbing salt

Looking down at my watch, I groaned inwardly at the 6:48, wishing that time coul
d speed up and it could be 9:30. Grabbing a new order pad from the unused stack
and several extra menus, I quickly ran out of the backroom and headed to my tabl
es.
Without looking at who my newest customers were, I muttered, "Welcome to L'amore
, my name's Kirsten and I'll be your waitress for tonight. The specialties inclu
de olive chicken soup and six cheese ravioli. What can I get for you to drink to
night?"
"Um, Kirsten darling, how are you tonight?"
I looked up startled, coming face to face with the Bianchi's.
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Four*
####################################
Chapter Four
"Oh, wow, um hi guys... I'm so so so sorry. It's been a really long day and I gu
ess my actions have become a bit repetitive." I blushed at my statement, glad th
at one, I hadn't stuttered, and two, my mom wasn't here to listen to my nearly i
ncoherent mumbling.
Unaware that I was doing this, I looked around the small table, and stopped to l
ook at Garrett. He looked just as nice as before, wearing a short sleeved yellow
polo shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans. He didn't seem to notice me looking a
t him, but only stared intently down at the menu, as if in deep thought and didn
't want to be disturbed.
I cleared my throat. "So, um, what are you all doing tonight at L'amore?"
Yivanni looked at me, surprise etched into her youthful looking face. "Well didn
't your mother tell you? We were going to have a little rendevous at your restau
rant tonight and talk about you coming to the institute next semester."
As if on cue, a waft of my mother's favorite perfume came rushing at me, and sec
onds later, my mom's voice called out to the Bianchis. "Oh lord, I'm so sorry I'
m late. The traffic was absolutely terrible coming this way. And Kirsten, why di
d you not pick up your phone? I must of called you at least ten times!"
Mrs. Bianchi smoothly interjected, "Why, I was just telling Kirsten about our li
ttle meeting. And do sit down Rosemary, you look a little shaky. Pull up a chair
please."
"Um so is this going to take very long? I'm not sure my boss knows that you're h
ere and I don't want to get in trouble for not working."
"Oh it's fine," Garrett muttered dryly, not taking his eyes of the menu, "If con
vincing doesn't work, my parents can bribe him with money."
Shocked silence followed his statement before Yivanni replied smoothly, "Garrett
doesn't mean that. Please sit down Kirsten, it'll be fine. I'll only need you f
or a minute."
"Yes I do." Garrett argued right back, glancing up to survey everyone.

Yivanni ignored him.

I relented and sat down in an empty stool, smoothing down my black skirt and awa
iting their verdict on whether or not I could attend.
"We would love to have you Bianchi Culinary Institute for the next year or two.
Your mother told me this morning that you had expressed interest in attending. I
s that statement correct, Kirsten?" Yivanni asked with a small smile on her fac
e.
"Um, yes that's correct. I do want to attend." I replied, awkwardly, trying to s
ound much more professional like Yivanni was.
"Wonderful. Here's a packet giving you the general information." Mr. Bianchi fis
hed out a thick pamphlet out of his black briefcase, handing it to me. "Don't bo
ther with the dorm agreement part because I'm pretty sure you will be staying wi
th us."
"She is?" Garrett questioned, just as I asked, "I am?"
My eyebrows raised at this statement and I looked at my mother for confirmation.
She nodded her head in agreement and gave me a timid smile.
"Why of course darling. You deserve care since you'll be far away from home. Den
ver is around 70 miles from here. We wouldn't want you running back and forth in
your car. Our car service is the top so there is no chance of you getting hurt
and we would love for you to stay with us. Plus, Garrett and you can get to know
each other better!" Yivanni exclaimed cheerfully.
Garrett snorted at this but I managed to ignore it. I did wonder, however, why h
e seemed so hostile to me and his family tonight. Bipolar much?
"There's one more thing. I want to make sure that you are okay with being in a c
lass with much older people in your class. The average age is around the late tw
enties to thirties. Since you're only nineteen, it may be more difficult to adju
st." Mr. Bianchi said, smoothing his napkin over his legs.
"She's only nineteen?" Garrett asked, looking at me. There was shock evident in
his face as he examined me.
"Yes, Garrett." Mr. Bianchi replied tiredly. "You'll probably be the closest in
age to her. Garrett's twenty-three if you didn't know that, Kirsten."
There was an awkward silence before Mrs. Bianchi cleared her throat and said, "S
o now that that is taken care of, I guess we'll just enjoy a nice dinner and bru
sh up some of the small details. What do you suggest to eat?"
I was still in a bit of shock and only managed a, "anything on the menu is delec
table." Then I fled to the kitchen doors, the booklet heavy in my hand. From beh
ind me, I could feel Garrett's grey-eyed gaze burning into my back.
Back in the kitchen, I stood in one of the corners out of the way of the chefs,
shakily scanning through the paragraphs, enough to see how amazing this was. The
paper was even made out of something thick and the calligraphy was written with
gold ink, making everything look fancy.
"Kirsten! Allons-y alloys-y, what do you think you're doing in here? I told you
specifically to get outside. Wait, what in your hand?"
I turned and gave Pierre a big smile. "It's my acceptance into the Bianchi Culin
ary Institute. Pierre, I got in!"
Pierre managed a small smile but then gave me a frown. "But what about your fath
er's restaurant? What are we going to do without your marvelous cooking?"
Too over the moon to worry, I just laughed and said, "We'll figure something out
. Anyways, you seem to be doing fine without me tonight."
Cue dryness of tone.
***************
An hour later, the Bianchis and my mother stopped by the front desk.
"It was marvelous seeing you again tonight." Yivanni said, giving me an air kiss
on both cheeks. "I'll give your mother all the small details later. We'll give
you a week to pack and say your goodbyes even though you're going to be seventy
miles away, if that's alright."
"Yes, it's fine." I replied wearily, more worn out from work than anything else.
Garrett stepped forward and cleared his throat as Yivanni and my mom chatted wit
h Sarah, the hostess, asking in a low tone, "can I talk to you in private?"
I frowned. What did he want now? "Sure. Follow me."

Leading him into the hallway that was a small extension off of the kitchen, I tu
rned around and crossed my arms. "What's up?"
"I just want to say sorry for what I said the other night?" Garrett's voice soun
ded genuinely apologetic and I looked up, surprised beyond words.
"It's accepted." I replied stiffly.
"Seriously. I'm sorry." Now his tone sounded more guarded. Looking up into his e
yes, I saw a hint of sadness in the solid grey mass and couldn't help but feel b
ad for him, whatever his mysterious predicament happened to be.
"But a tip, Kirsten. Next time you check out a guy, be a little more discreet, a
lright?" He smirked and all my sympathetic feelings vanished.
After they left, Jackson came up to me with a rag in his hands. "Who was that gu
y?" He asked in a curious and slightly angry tone, wiping his hands on his towel
.
I hesistated, not wanting to bring any attraction to the Bianchis. "A friend." I
muttered stiffly, realizing that Jackson was probably jealous.
"Really? Aren't friends usually nice to one another? He looked like he was going
to gobble you up for dessert or something."
"Lay off Jackson." I said tiredly. "I've had a busy day. I don't need to be ridi
culed."
"Alright. But just saying, we'll miss you here."
'More like you'll not be getting another chance of getting laid with me.' I thou
ght mentally, walking away from Jackson to go greet the next customers.
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Five*
####################################
Enjoy!
<3 Infatuated
*******************
My father used to say one Italian proverb over and over again, whenever I had ex
pressed my longing for a famous life in New York City or a mansion with wild sta
llions and servants. Merely childish dreams at the time, but my padre wanted to
emphasize enjoying what a person already has.
"E meglio un uovo oggi di una gallina domani." It is better to have one bird in
hand than two in the bush.
Those were the words I dwelled on as the sleek black limousine approached the cu
rb next to our Victorian house, looking out of place among the small houses line
d across from me. It came to a smooth stop as the driver hurried out from behind
the wheel.
"Ms. Bellini, I presume?" He asked, lifting his sunglasses over his shaved head
to squint at me in the sunlight. Before I could answer, a slightly annoyed voice
from inside the limo yelled, "That's her James. Hurry up! I've got a press conf
erence with Cooking International and I don't want to be late."
Well, well, well. If it wasn't Mr. Garrett 'stick up my ass' Bianchi.
"Ragazze e la loro roba. So annoying." He muttered from inside the vehicle, his
tone one of impatience and irritation.
I frowned at his comment and watched as James carefully placed my two suitcases
in the trunk before answering him.
"Due valigie sono un sacco?" I questioned, slowly entering the dark interior of

the limousine.
Despite the bright sunlight outside, inside was as gloomy as a place could possi
bly be. Closing my door softly, I coughed as a cloud of smoke hit my lungs.
"What are you doing? Smoking is the cancer of fools."
The slouching form of Garrett only snorted and took another long drag then blew
it my way again. He was dressed in a casual cashmere grey sweater, one that only
helped enunciate the hard muscles visible under the material. Dark blue designe
r jeans were very snug against his slim hips and polished black dress shoes were
propped against his knee in a casual way.
"So you speak Italian, eh?" He muttered looking out of the tinted windows, one h
and resting on his armrest and the other holding his burning cigarette.
"No, non parlo Italiano." I muttered sarcastically. "I just made up a bunch of w
ords and hoped it sounded like Italian."
He looked at me, grey eyes boring into mine. "Sarcasm is not appreciated."
"Smoking is not appreciated."
"Ooh, that hurt."
Why was he being such a jackass again? Last week, he had seemed so genuinely nic
e when he apologized. Somebody seriously needed to diagnose him with bipolar dis
order.
"So why did you come with James to pick me up? I assure you, I did not need extr
a company."
"When you are the son of one of the most famous people in the world, they tend t
o put thir amazing power into their commands and poof! You are doing something y
ou don't want to."
After that comment, we fell into an uncomfortable silence, me staring out the wi
ndow, and him sucking away on his stick of death.
Once in a while Garrett and I would say a couple things to each other, though mo
re of the ride consisted of me staring out the window and him just sitting there
with Adele singing softly in the background.
An hour later, as we slowly pulled up to the Bianchi Mansion, my mind was fully
exhausted. I had dwelled on the thoughts of home, of my father, and his beloved
restaurant. My mind had been in a mental battle. Was it right that I had left or
should I have stayed? Either way, it was too late to change.
Looking at my watch, I noted that it had been six days since I fell asleep with
the pamphlet in my arms, six days since Jackson asked me out, one day since I 'r
esigned' from being chef at L'amore. And it had only been two hours since I had
hugged my mother's small form and said addio.
"You coming?" Garrett growled, throwing his second cigarette on the pavement and
grinding it under his foot.
"Yeah," I sighed in relief as I exited the car, stretching out my limbs and winc
ing slightly as something in my back popped.
"Well hurry up." With that, he headed up the long driveway, giving me a perfect

view of his broad shoulders and muscular back. Not that I enjoyed it or anything
.
Grabbing my two suitcases from the waiting James' hands, I quickly followed him
and entered the home of the Bianchi's.
The mansion was just as splendid as it had been the night of the dinner. Several
gardeners were outside trimming the hedges and cleaning the fountain, while peo
ple bustled around the courtyard, doing one thing or the other. I couldn't help
but stare a bit but Garrett just casually strolled down the path as if this rich
ness was the usual, making me look like a bumbling tourist.
Yivanni was at the door waiting for me, dressed in a deep purple silk robe that
draped around her frame delicately. Mr. Bianchi was no where in sight.
"Garrett! Kirsten!" She called.
"Hey mom, I delivered her safe and sound. Now can I please finish that essay for
the teacher permit thingy? And who's helping me get dressed for the interview?"
Garrett asked, walking past into the hallway.
"Patrick's going ot help you, and yes you can go study, but after you show Kirst
en around the house. We would not want her to get lost." Enveloping me into a wa
rm, vanilla scented embrace, she muttered, "we are very pleased to have you, Kir
sten. Oh, and do not mind my son. He can be tempermental at moments. Garrett snu
ff that wretched thing out. You're going to die young."
I let out an uncomfortable laughed as Garrett sighed and ground his barely used
cigarette under his foot, and answered, "none the less, thank you so much for ha
ving me and everything you've done to get me into the institute. I couldn't expr
ess my thanks in any form. I am forever in your debt"
Garrett snorted from behind me and muttered, "Are you coming? I'm busy and this
needs to be quick so I won't fail."
"Of course," I replied, eying him crossly. If Garrett was to be like this I coul
dn't help but feel pity for those related to him and those who were with him eve
ryday. Bless his future students.
"Here, give me your suitcases." Garrett said, beckoning me to follow him.
I gladly handed them over and followed him up two flights of stairs onto the thi
rd floor. After taking several twists and turns, we stopped in front a pair of d
ouble doors and Garrett gestured in a way that told me to open them up. I ginger
ly did, half expecting something fragile and extremely expensive to break but wh
en nothing happened, I slowly entered my new room.
Gasping, I fumbled for the light switch that would turn on thousands of electric
candles and recess lights that hung from the mile high ceiling. To my left, a b
ig nook revealed a kitchen, not one of those mini bar things, but a kitchen fine
r than the ones at L'amore.
To my right, there several mahogany doors I presumed lead to the bathroom, close
t, and bedroom. Instead of my bed being in this main room, a couch and plasma TV
was in leui of it, not that I minded.
Everything, from the couch to the kitchen countertop were mixtures of burgundy,
grey, and dark chocolate brown. The dim glow of the lights gave it a romantic an
d warm feel while the large floor length window gave a marvelous view of acres o
f pines and coniferous trees.

This was definitely not a bedroom. It was more like a suite fit for royalty.
"Do you like it?"
I nearly jumped a mile in the air as Garrett's voice ran through the room much c
loser than I expected. Turning, a big grin spread on my face and impulsively gav
e him as big hug. He smelled good, like creamy vanilla, but with a hint of nicot
ine.
Realizing what I was doing, I stepped back and muttered a small 'sorry' before t
urning around to hide my blush.
"What are those doors for?" I asked, pointing to the ones that were attached to
the bay window.
"Um, the balcony?" He answered my question with a question, as if the answer had
been so obvious, and I was just stupid. But, after living in a small Victorian
house all my life, of course I hadn't known that.
"Oh my god." I muttered, walking to a loveseat and taking a seat.
Garrett followed me and said. "Shouldn't you be jumping up and down so excited t
hat you get to live like Kate Middleton for a year?"
"That's the issue. I don't deserve such royal treatment. I haven't done anything
that allows me to deserve to be here." I gestured wildy to the luxurey around m
e. "All I deserve is an apartment in downtown Colorado and a puppy, the cheap ki
nd that you get from the pound. Not velvet plush sofas and a place to live more
luxurious than the damn lofts on SoHo."
He shifted uncomfortably and finally came to sit across from me on a brown leath
er couch. "If it makes you feel any better, we don't own any puppies.... just se
veral horses."
I cracked a smile at this.
He continued, "I'm also pretty positive that you must of done something in your
life that deserves this kind of treatment. Don't be so hard on yourself. After e
verything you've gone through in the past few weeks really shows that you need a
break. Seriously, I don't know another person that deserves this place more tha
n you. I mean, you seem nice and caring enough, when you're not pissed at least.
" Garrett's voice was warmer and he scootched closer to me.
"Thanks, I needed that," I muttered wryly. "I'm only pissed to people who act ru
de. Now let me ask you a question. What's up with the sarcastic, mean act to you
r parents when you seem like a genuinely nice person as well?"
Garrett gave me an expressionless look for a long time that it made me think I p
robably shouldn't of asked him such a personal and upfront question. Before I co
uld apologize for my forwardness, he said something that didn't explain anything
at all.
"Don't judge a book by its cover."
With that he got up briskly and headed to the doors that lead to the hallway. "H
ave a nice day, Kirsten."
Looking down at my hands then glancing outside at the picturesque view, I sighed
, confused as to why he had reacted so angrily, and then started unpacking my su

itcases. Some things were meant to remain cryptic.

*********************
"So did you like it?" Yivanni asked, taking a dainty sip of her red wine.
"Yes thank you so much." I replied, cracking open a
slipping it into my mouth as elegantly as possible.
room table, awaiting dinner. Garrett had long left
ng International, and apparently Mr. Bianchi was on
before the first semester of school started.

peanut and self consciously

We were at the casual dining
for his interview with Cooki
a last minute trip to Italy

"I presume you know nearly all of the details for your classes? School does star
t next week and we wouldn't want you getting confused."
"I think so," I replied, my stomach grumbling softly.
"Well let me go over it again just so everything is cleared up. Classes begin at
nine for you in Wing A. School started September 1st. Either Garrett, Rob, or J
ames will be taking you since you will be permantly living with us instead of th
e dorms. The materials you'll need include a portfolio of past achievements and
a three inch folder since all of your recipes will be placed in there." She wait
ed for my nod of confirmation before handing me a piece of paper.
"Here is your schedule. It includes the basics to world culinary techniques to d
ifferent courses that emphasize on a specific culture. Once we see where your le
vel is, we'll move you around to fit your needs."
I looked down at my schedule, quickly scanning across the small words:
Introduction to the Worldwide Culinary Arts. 9:00-11:00 A.M.Mr. G. Bianchi
Cultural Spanish 1:00-2:00 P.M. Mr. R. Bianchi
Cultural Oriental 3:00-4:00 P.M. Mr. J. Whitson
Culinary Tools of Trade 4:00-4:30 P.M. Mrs. A. Livingston
Cartering And Presentation 5:00-6:00 P.M. Mr. G. Bianchi
Wait a second...
"So I will be taking classes from Garret?"
Yivanni misread my stricken expression and tried to reassure me. "Garrett has be
en the recipient of many awards. He started cooking at age seven and was taught
by Rob. He is highly adequate to teach you. Do not worry."
"Oh that wasn't my worry." I muttered quickly. "It just surprised me that he tau
ght so much."
A horrible bluff but it would have to do.
Yivanni gave me a strange look and I smiled. "It'll be fine. Everything will be
just great."
Before we could continue talking, our appetizer course was served and we commenc
ed eating.
********************

Later that night, I went into my room and shut the door wanting some privacy fro
m the rest of the family since I still felt awkward being around them without wa
nting to worship the ground they stood on. Taking out my cell phone, I dialed a
familiar number and listened it ring, hoping that the person on the other side w
ould pick up.
"Hello?" A voice croaked on the other side, sleep evident in her tone.
"Oh crap, Elle, sorry if I woke you up. I keep forgetting that there's a two hou
r time difference between us now."
Elle Peterson had been my best friend since eighth grade and it seemed to me as
if we were growing apart, her at Juliard in New York, and me still stuck in Colo
rado. Elle was a ballerina, one that had easily been sumbited to the best art sc
hool in the country and had left in a flash, wanting to get away from the semi-r
ural part of the country. With curly blond hair and an amazing figure from all t
he intricate twists and turns she had to do on a daily basis, her sky blue eyes
only added to the image of a slender, tall porcelain doll.
"No worries." She muttered, her voice suddely brightening. "Tell me everything t
hat has been going on! I haven't talked to you since your father's funeral. I wa
nt all the details."
For the next half hour I explained how I had managed to find myself in the Bianc
hi Mansion with a culinary education ahead, when just a few months ago, I had no
plans other than being happy with what I had.
I made the mistake of mentioning Garrett and spent more time describing in full
details his hair color, hands, body built, and eyes. By the time I was done I re
alized that it was already 9:00 pm my time and being in New York, that meant tha
t Elle was still up at eleven in the morning.
"Listen, I gotta go now, Elle." I muttered sadly. "I'll email you later."
"Wait, wait, Kirsten, I have good news!"
"I'm listening," I muttered, picking at a loose strand on my shirt.
"Well, I met this really cute and sweet guy, Nick Mrotek. He is just the nicest
person ever and he plays the violin like a beast. No kidding."
I rolled my eyes. Elle was one of those girls that think they've found their sou
l mate in any and every boy that show interest in them. Even though none of them
have seemed to stick around longer than a year, Elle wouldn't give up.
"That's great, honey. What does he look like?" I asked. When I heard Elle rant o
n for a while, I sighed. It was going to be a long night.
An hour later, Elle finally claimed that she was tired and we hung up, promising
to communicate tomorrow.
Even though it was only ten, the time I usually got off work, I brushed my teeth
and washed my face before unpacking my fleece pjamas with sheep all over the fa
bric. Then I stumbled onto my new bed and almost fell asleep lying clumsily on t
he covers, but woke up when my phone buzzed next to me. Reaching out and grabbin
g it in the dark, I read the text message from an unknown number.
'Just finished with my interview. Be prepared to wake up early and get a tour of
the institute.'

I frowned. It was obviously Garrett but I had never given him my number. I didn'
t dwell on it long when I registered the fact that I would finally get to go ins
ide the internationally known school.
With that information, I fell into a deep sleep, a smile on my face.
********************
So to clear up a few things.
One, when Garrett is speaking Italian, he says. "Girls and their luggage. So ann
oying." In which Kirsten looks at her two suitcases and replies, "two is a lot?"
If you have any questions with the Italian do ask.
Addio means bye by the way.
I dedicate this to Franny98 because she is legitly Italian so she's been really
helping me.
~~Infatuated####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Six*
####################################
VOTE VOTE VOTE!!!!
<3 Infatuated
********************
I woke up the next morning with a hangover. My head was pounding so damn loud, i
t being the only thing I could hear. It was the type of feeling where a person
just wanted to curl up under her red covers, pop in two Advils, and sleep for th
e next two days straight.
Wait a minute...
My sheets were white, not red.
I shot up in my bed, nearly falling onto the plush carpeted floor in my haste, a
s I pushed away my tangled sheets and sprinted my way to the door. Instead of th
e obnoxious pounding being merely on my head, I realized that someone was furiou
sly pounding on the door with their hand.
Opening up the door, I came face to face with a massive golden retriever as it j
umped onto my chest, barrelling me over. The dog panted, its drool getting all o
ver my black tank top, and cocked its ginourmous head, as if asking me why my ha
ir was a mess, why I was wearing only mini pink shorts and a sleeveless shirt, a
nd why I hadn't managed to hold in his (I assumed it was a he) weight.
Laughing, I reached up and scratched him behind his ears as he eagerly sniffed m
y free hand as if searching for a hidden treat in my palm.
"Hey, Goldilocks, come back here you she-dog!" A voice yelled in the hallway. Th
e presumed 'Goldilocks' lifted its head from my body and let out an excited bark
, one loud enough to wake up the entire country.
Before I could push of the hundred pound sack of fur and dog off my chest, a fig

ure appeared at my doorway, his handsome face relaxing an inch as he viewed the
spectacle in front of him.
The man before me was tall, probably taller than Jackson. He was wearing a black
leather jacket that was snug against his broad shoulders and a pair of dark was
hed jeans that were slightly baggy. His hair was literally the same color as the
animal before, however, in lieu of the straggly straight stands of Goldilocks,
his were unruly and curling all over his tan skin. He had a square jaw and dark
shadow around his chin with green eyes that were currently unabashedly running u
p and down my scantily sclad body.
"Um, hi," I muttered, managing to push the dog off and stand up, straightening o
ut my wrinkled clothes, wishing that I had kept my sheep pj's on.
He looked at me bemused, his eyes still trailing up my image. "Usually when peop
le say hi, you are suppose to say something in return." I said hotly, trying to
discreetly hide as much of me away from him as possible, while slowly scootching
back until I hit the side of the brown couch.
Giving me a larger than life smile, he took my hand and placed a soft kiss on my
skin. "Hi, my name is Toben. It's nice to meet you, but what the hell are you d
oing in my room?"
Before I could reply to his strange question, another voice rang through the hal
lways. "Goldie? Toben? Where the hell did you guys- Oh, morning Kirsten."
Garrett stood at the doorway, peering into my, Toben's, someone's room. "Am I in
terupting something?" He asked raising an eyebrow at out closeness, due to Toben
's gentlemanly kiss.
"No, nothing." I muttered, blushing slightly as I realized that now two men had
now seen me in my booty shorts.
The dark haired boy barely acknowledged what I said before muttering, "well if y
ou're ready to go, we can head up to the Institute and I'll give you a tour of t
he place. All the other students come tomorrow to get settled in their dorms so
you get the first, 'exclusive' glance"
"Of course, just let my get on my stripper heels and we'll be on our way, eh?" I
replied sarcastically, turning to the multiple doors that led to the kitchen, b
athroom, closet, and balcony.
"Okay," he muttered nonchalently.
Toben snickered behind me and he coughed before saying, "dude, have you not seen
what she's wearing? A slut would be ashamed."
This time I focused my glare at the other guy. Who had the audacity to say that
to a complete and utter stranger? "For your information, sluts don't bother wear
ing underwear. At least I am."
That didn't seem to faze him as he headed to the door, where Garrett and Goldilo
cks were impatiently waiting. "I know. I can see them." My cheeks burned as I st
ared after him, not sure as to what to say in return. Turning to the mulitple do
ors, I hesitantly opened up the left one, hoping that it would be the closet.
"Nope not that one." Both Toben and Garrett muttered.
Looking at the dark interior of the kitchen, I sighed, and opened up the next.

"Not that one either." Toben said. "It's the one on the far right."
I gave a short laugh. Mix me up with three different doors and I never would hav
e figured out the right one.
"Thank you." I replied a little coldly, before entering the walk in closet.
Ten minutes later, after being physically dragged by Garrett, shoes in one hand,
brush in the other, him, Toben, Goldie, and I sat uncomfortably in the black Me
rcedes that was speeding down I-25.
Every once in a while, my gaze would travel to Garrett, who sat with another cig
arette in his hand, avidly chatting to Toben about the upcoming college football
season.
Today, he had ditched his formal clothes and had on a grey t-shirt with the Denv
er Broncos written over his chest. His hair looked like he had just gotten out o
f bed like me, without the tightness and hot pink of course, and his dark blue s
weatpants and sandals weren't helping his image at all either.
"So, Kirsten, is it? It is a pleasure to meet you. As I recall m'lady, I never p
roperly introduce myself to such a delightful woman as yourself." A fake British
accent touched the edge of his word, putting a smile on my face. "My name is To
ben Reynolds, age 25, single, but alas, as gay as a baby girl."
My eyebrows hitched up a notch at his last comment. Not because I was a homophob
e, which I wasn't, but because my only interaction with gays were looking at the
ir glitter covered faces and hearing their high pitch voices on Project Runway.
Toben, from what I could interpret, looked and acted like a man as straight as G
arrett was.
"I'll take that as a compliment." He muttered, grinning. It was then that I real
ized I had voiced my opinions outloud. "But I do think that Josh was less yummy
than Andrew in that last season. I don't like men who slick back their hair."
"Agreed." I muttered. "Josh's hairdo was starting to freak me out, as well as hi
s too tight purple tank tops."
He grinned at me. "You're one to talk."
My face flamed at the thought of being mauled by a dog in my scanty pj's that al
most covered all that was necessary. Hearing a muffled snort, I turned to see Ga
rrett grinning to himself while looking straight at me.
"Hypocrite." Toben muttered teasingly.
"Don't call me fat." I replied with a grin. "Who calls girls hippoes?"
"Can we please get going guys? As much fun as it to listen to the two of you tal
k about glitter and Project Runway, I do have something to do today." Garrett mu
ttered crossly, a small, yet almost discernable smile on his face."
"Ah, mate, let's not be a sour puss, eh?" Toben replied cheerfully, now replacin
g his faux British accent with an Australian. Garrett glared at the other boy as
Toben slung a leather clad arm around his shoulder.
"Anywho," I said quickly, turning back to Toben, "was that really your room that
I'm in?"
Toben looked at me mildly. "Why of course. I was just there two days ago. Beware

, the sheets haven't been changed and I'm a very sexually active man who needs t
o sooth his desires."
The look on my face, disgusted and afraid, sent the two guys into peals of laugh
ter and Goldilocks into a string of random barks.
"Chill, Kirsten, I'm just joking. I've been doing it on the kitchen countertop."
He muttered, patting my knee affectionately.
That set them off into another round of laughter and perverted jokes that left m
e feeling dirty, abused, yet happy to be in the company of the other two even th
ough one was suffering from an extreme case of biploarity and the other one from
extreme pervertedness.
********************
The
the
the
red

pictures taken of the Bianchi Institute were nothing compared to staring at

sight myself. From the images I had seen, they had not only miscommunicated
size, but the feeling of awe as I stepped outside the black Mercedes and sta
at the sight before me.

Bianchi Culinary Institute was about twice, maybe even three times as large as t
he Bianchi's mansion. With around six levels, the main building towered before m
e, made of dark redwood and deep grey stones, and other smaller, yet still massi
ve buildings, were scattered around, leading one to the other by a wide stone pa
ved path.
Flowers were in full bloom, surrounding every building, and the gorgeous red and
gold leaves of the trees in the backround set the entire surreal picture into a
whole other level. Massive architectural and artistic statues were spread out o
n the lawns and pavements, mostly in black and a shiny silver.
"Um, Kirsten? Are you okay? I think a fly just went into your mouth." A voice mu
ttered in a Texas accent to my left.
I turned my head and just stared at Toben. "How can you not be blown away by thi
s picturesque sight?" I asked, still turning around to look at everything.
"One," he replied, still in his annoying Texan accent, " I'm not an aspiring che
f or food freak. And two, I've been here around a billion times so after awhile,
it sort of gets dull."
"You've been here before?" I asked frowning at him.
"Yep, you darling lady, didn't realize I was this not so fine man's best friend.
" He pointed at Garrett and pretended to shoot a gun at him. "Afta all, it is my
fault for not introducing myself fully. Personally, I ain't so sure why I bothe
r hanging around him when he acts like such a douche. Y'all know, after that Mir
a chick, he hasn-"
Toben couldn't finish the rest of his sentence before he went crashing on the gr
ound, Garrett on top. "Woah woah," Toben cried. "I thought I were the cowboy her
e, mister! Stop riding me!"
Garrett merely glowered at him and stood up, giving me just as hard of a look wi
th his dark and stormy grey eyes. "Come on," he muttered gruffly not looking bac
k as he stormed up one of the pathways to the main building, "let's make this qu
ick so I don't have to be in that jackass's face any more than I want to be."
It would of been scary if Toben haden't yelled, "I'm a cowboy who rides horses.

Not a donkey!"
At that moment, it was hard not to laugh.
*********************
"So as you know, there are five wings to the school."
ered the dark hallway. With a flick of his finger, he
and the entire room illuminated. We were currently at
uilding which Garrett called the Dining and Reception
ere on, I could understand why.

Garrett muttered as we ent

turned on the lightswitch
the entrance of the main b
hall and once the lights w

Around ten rows of dining tables were lined along the walls of the room, with a
massive mohagany table in the middle. It was in a traditional Italian setting wh
ere the people ate to the sides and came to the middle to grab food.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the gold ceiling, some were small and at the sides
whule one enormous one hung in the middle of the room. Candles were everywhere;
on tables, in some holders attached to the wall, and some hanging on the chande
liers.
On the arch that led to the tables were the words 'Mangiare bene, bere bene, viv
re bene.' Eat well, drink well, live well.
"I thought this was an international school. Why the Italian words?" I asked, pa
using to examine the letters written in burgundy paint and scrawled in calligrap
hy.
"All rooms that teach a specific cuisine or style tend to have something in thei
r own language, but since we are Italian and it sounded pretty, my mother decide
d that it was the best."
We fell into a silence as Toben joined us and Garrett led us to room after room
after room. By the time we were finished sightseeing, it was around noon.#######
#############################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Seven
####################################
Chapter Seven
"So, Kirsten Bellini, eh? Tell me about yourself." Toben said, wiping the edge o
f his mouth with a red and white checkered paper napkin.
The three of us were currently sitting at a stuffy restaurant called Cupid's Bow
, enjoying old-fashioned hamburgers and fries. I sat on one side of the booth, w
hile Garrett and Toben sat across.
"I'm horrible with autobios. That's one thing that you need to learn. Never ask
me that question if you want this answer." I replied, stuffing another fry down
my throat, the trip making me ravished.
"Okay, so pretend I didn't ask the question. What's your answer?" Toben said, ta
king a slurp of his soda.
"Well, I didn't know you asked a question. What question?" I teased.
Toben gave me a look of disapproval. "Is there something I should know? Why won'
t you just tell me?"

I set down my napkin and swallowed slowly, wincing as the hard chunk of beef sli
d down my throat. After I began learning the art of cooking, around five years a
go, nothing seemed to taste just perfect. Take this hamburger for an example. Ov
ercooked, not enough salt, too much pepper, and obviously from the frozen food a
isle of some mysterious market probably hundreds of mile away.
"Okay, fine, if you insist." I glowered at him as he shot a triumphant look my w
ay. "But don't expect anything exciting."
"Anything's more exciting than this lump over here." He muttered, poking the dro
wsy Garrett with a finger. He seemed so tired that he didn't even seem to feel T
oben's finger.
Garrett was definitely cute when he was docile. Though he did look pretty nice l
aughing or glowering at me, the relaxed, quiet version of him seemed to suit him
the best.
"Now hurry up, Kirsten, we don't have all day. I just want the outlines. The jui
cy details can wait."
I rolled my eyes and began telling my story.
"Wait, so you're saying that he just continued working, even though you were sta
nding in a puddle of water, ice cold liquid dripping down your white dress? What
the hell is the matter with him? That's like a white t-shirt moment except with
a dress. What color was your bra?" Toben asked, looking at me with his overdram
atic, wide eyes.
I rolled my eyes in Toben's direction as we sped down the highway. "Thanks, I ne
eded the empathy. It was white with red polka dots."
"You're welcome. If it helps, it sucks when your first date turns out to be stra
ighter than a line. Worse than looking like a chick with chicken pox on her boob
s."
I stifled a smile. Toben had been cracking jokes ever since he convinced me to t
ell every detail of my life and didn't seem to be stopping as we entered the pri
vate estates. "No it doesn't, eh. Now that must suck."
"Yep," he replied, "I still seem to have not found Mr. Right."
"You'd find one faster if you'd get your fat ass off of me. Hitting on me is a w
aste of time." Garrett grumbled, his grey eyes tired as he shifted uncomfortably
.
"Really?" Toben mocked, "you're not gay? After not having any action with a sing
le girl for over three months, I thought you had gone over to the amazing rainbo
w side."
My eyebrow hitched up at this statement. I personally had been single ever since
... well I had been single for a very long time and I was positive that I was st
raight.
"Just because I haven't had a girlfriend in a fourth of a year does not mean tha
t my interests have diverged. Even after... you know, I've been very busy with t
he institute and school. I have no spare time for girls and flings."
The two of them shared a knowing look across the seats and I shifted in my seat,
slightly uncomfortable as Toben and Garrett seemed to communicate telepathicall
y.

"Anyhow, Kirsten, what happened after the waiter spilled that water? And whateve
r happened to that clueless guy that didn't know what he was missing out on?" Ga
rrett asked.
My eyebrows rose at his comment. As I had told numerous stories of my childhood
to Toben, I didn't expect Garrett to be listening as well.
"Well, um," I blushed, "the waiter tried to wipe off the water with his towel bu
t the problem was that it was in my hair, on my chest, and all over my lap. Thus
creating an incredibly awkward moment."
Toben laughed and Garrett cracked a small smile. "And he didn't notice the bra?"
I looked out the window and was surprised to see us pulling into the long drivew
ay of the mansion. Time had passed so fast. "Oh he did. Too bad he wore eyeliner
."
"Well, this is an exceedingly interesting story with an apparently hot gay waite
r near the end, but I gotta go." Toben said, jumping out of the car when it came
to a halt and grabbing the sleeping Goldilocks' leash. The dog fought feebly bu
t eventually just complied with its owner and stepped out of the car. "It was fu
n getting to know you, Kirsten. We need to talk soon, mon copine."
There goes the French accent.
"It's actually ma copine." I called after him with a grin on my face. I watched
him walk away to a shiny silver BMW that was sitting in the shade of a tree afte
r looking back at me and shaking his head, hopping into the driver's side. Once
Goldi was situated, he sped backwards down the driveway and out the gates.
Turning back, I noticed Garrett staring at me, his grey green eyes giving me an
almost sharp look. Shivers ran down my spine as I stared back, enthralled by his
silver glare.
"What?" I asked.
"What? Oh nothing, Kirsten. I'm just incredibly tired, you know? Toben really we
ars me out. I guess I just zoned out a little."
His voice seemed distracted but he shot me a crooked smile that looked a tad rem
orseful before opening his side of the car. I stared after him in slight surpris
e. What happened to the sarcastic remarks and dry comments I was starting to get
used to?
********************
"He is so cute Kirsten! You just don't understand his hotness because I cannot e
xpress it in words or pictures. You'll just have to see once Christmas break com
es around! You are coming to New York right?"
I laughed as Elle muttered something about planning something for winter break.
That was Elle. Always planning three months ahead.
"I don't know," I replied, "I'm not sure if the Bianchis have any plans for brea
k or if my mom wants me to stay with her. But I'll ask." In about two months, I
mused silently.
"Okay good. But I'll try to sneak a picture of Nick's face once I get the chance
. And maybe, just maybe his abs if I can." She giggled.

"Ew Elle, I don't know when it would be convenient to take a picture of his abs
unless you know..." I smiled as I twisted the phone cord around my hand, jokingl
y trying to avoid the topic of her getting down and dirty. Even though she had b
een in school for a mere two days, she was already starting to get some action.
Unlike me on the other hand...
Looking over at the clock that read 3:54 am, I sighed. It was Sunday and tomorro
w, the dreaded yet exhilerating first day of school would take place.
"Helloo? Kirsten, you still listening?"
"Huh? Yeah, I'm still listening."
"Well I gotta go now girly. Class starts at seven and I still need to get dresse
d and eat breakfast. I'll talk to you later, okay? Tell me how school goes. And
keep up to track how many hot guys are in your class. I want all the details. By
e-bye!"
The dial tone rang in my ear and I hung up slowly, closing my eyes from exhuasti
on. It had been a week since Toben and Garrett had shown me around the institute
and my nerves were highwire. I wasn't one of those people that had been in a mi
litary family as a child, always moving around from one school to the next. To s
ay that I was horrible with making friends was an understatement.
Rolling onto the otherside of my bed, I turned off my lamp and listened to my he
art beat in the silence.
I wasn't like Elle in the least and that was probably the reason we were such go
od friends. Once I got to know the person, my extroverted self came out, but if
they were strangers, I suddenly couldn't utter a single word.
********************
The beeping of the alarm clock on my night stand woke me up precisely two hours
later, the annoying screech waking me from my slumber. Groaning, I squinted at t
he neon numbers and slumped back under my comfortable cover, regretting staying
up to talk about abs and missing out on my sleep. I relaxed for a second before
another set of beeps rang.
Sighing, I sluggishly hopped out of bed and blindly went to the windows. Peering
outside, I noted that the autumn sun was about to rise and that is was six, mea
ning that it was time to move my butt.
Grabbing a flowly dark purple shirt and a pair of shorts, I headed to the bathro
om to take a quick shower and dress before meeting Garrett downstairs.
Thirty minutes later, I was running around my room, snatching empty notebooks, m
y bag, a first aid kit, and a pair of black shoes, stuffing everything except th
e shoes in my bag. I sprinted down two levels of stairs and hallways, before lan
ding breathlessly in front of the kitchen. Looking at my cell phone, I breathed
slowly, relieved that I had five minutes before Garrett was taking me to school.
Entering through the double doors where Yivanni and her son were obviously chit
chatting, I paused before meekly poking my head and muttering a quiet 'morning'.
Yivanni turned, still dressed in her robe, held a massive mug of what looked lik
e pure black coffee. "Good morning, Kirsten. Are you excited for the first day?"

I gave her an uneasy smile before grabbing a newly iced scone from the cooling r
ack. "Of course." I replied smoothly, with a bright smile.
Suddenly a string of curses came from the pantry and we both turned to see Garre
tt come out, a bit of flour still visible in his hair.
"That goddam-- oh, morning Kirsten."
"Hey," I replied, trying to smother my laughter. Bread flour was everywhere. On
his thin grey sweater and black dress pants, to his polished black shoes and eye
lashes.
Looking down at his Rolex, he cursed again before running out of the kitchen. "I
'll be right down Kirsten. I have to change!"
"That boy," Yivannni scowled, a small smile on her face, "Still doesn't realize
that paper bags cannot trap all of those miniscule particles. Alas, cani vecchi
non imparare nuovie trucchi."
Old dogs do not learn new tricks.
I laughed in agreement and snagged a ready cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup and
another warm blueberry scone.
***********************
"So, you have everything right? Portfolio, notebooks, the guides, schedule? Oh a
nd the introduction pamphlet?"
I sighed again as Garrett asked me for the third time if I had everything prepar
ed for class. As if I wasn't nervous enough.
"Yes, I have everything."
"Good," he replied, "some teachers there are very strict about having your suppl
ies ready. Oh, and try to refrain from telling people that you're here because y
our parents are friends with mine and they let you in for free. Only the best co
me here and it would probably cause some protests from the more haughty students
."
"Parent." I correctly him softly, silently pulling the extra fluff off of my shi
rt.
"What was that?" He asked, turning to look at me briefly before turning back to
the road.
"It's parent, not parents."
"Oh, I'm sorry." He frowned before speeding up and passing an old red pickup tru
ck, a sad look on his face.
Turning into the teacher parking lot, Garrett turned off the engine and faced me
. "Don't forget to meet me out here during our lunch break. I'll take you somewh
ere since it's your first day and you don't know anyone."
I bristled at his comment. "I can make friends." I said shortly as I hopped out
of the car, pushing my previous doubts to the back of my mind as Garrett raised
a skeptical eyebrow.
When I glared at him, he only gave me a small smirk before heading to Wing A. "Y

ou coming?"
Thirty minutes later I found myself in a desk, listening to Garret as he droned
on about the basic techniques of the culinary arts. Since I had stayed up all ni
ght talking to Elle, the effects of insomnia hit me right there in the beginning
of class. Trying not to droop my eyes, I stared right at Garrett as he explaine
d the benefits of the class and the occupations avaliable to us.
"Today, I will be assessing your cooking abilities so everyone grab a partner ar
ound you and head to one of the stations where you will find an array of vegetab
les, meats, and cheeses. Your assignment is to create an authentic dish with you
r partners using all the basic techniques each one of you should know." He looke
d at me for a second before continuing. "You will have one hour. Begin."
I looked back at the stations where I had set out all the possible ingredients e
arly this morning. Each station had an oven, a six pan stove, a grill, blender,
deep fryer, and around fifty utensils of everything, ranging from knifes to chee
se shredders. Some stations were already beginning to fill up and I looked at th
e seats around me, searching for a partner.
A girl caught my eye as I looked around the classroom. She had red hair, obvious
ly dyed, and bright blue eyes and white skin that made her look patriotic. She c
aught my eye and gave me a tentative smile, in which I returned. I mouthed 'part
ners?' and she nodded her head.
"It's nice to meet you," she said in a small sweet voice as we washed our hands
in the sink. "My name's Amelia, just turned twenty-seven this summer."
"It's nice to meet you too," I replied, drying my hands and looking at our food
items. "I'm Kirsten. 19."
Amelia and I had obviously been blessed with a nice station. We had several chic
ken thighs, many vegetables, a round circle of what looked like paremsan cheese,
and a pound or so of unsliced bacon. Immediately several ideas popped into my h
ead and I quickly conversed with Amelia. She agreed with my chicken mushroom art
ichoke pasta.
Quickly, she put a pot of water to boil and a smaller pot of chicken stock. I ra
ised my sleeves and began chopping the artichokes into chunks and the mushrooms
into thin slices that would definitely soak up all the flavors. Wincing as the c
ut on my hand burned, I stopped for a second and examined my finger.
It had never properly healed after I sliced my skin off and onto the olives two
weeks ago. The scab was massive but cracked in so many places that it was gauran
teed to start bleeding again. Already, a thin trickle was going down my palm.
Kirsten? Are you okay?" Garrett asked from behind me, his voice suddenly right n
ext to my shoulder.
I blushed and jumped away from him. "Yeah, everything's fine Ga- Mr. Bianchi. My
cut is just bothering me. And won't allow me to properly chop the mushrooms."
Suddely, he was right in front of me, pushing Amelia to the background, my cold
hand being carefully examined by my teacher. His eyes were squinted in concentra
tion and he abruptly grabbed my hand and led me out of the door.
"Here," he muttered bruskly, "give me your First Aid Kit." I meekly handed it to
him and he grabbed a bottle of alcohol from the top shelf and something that lo
oked like Neosporin. Then he carefully took my finger and applied alochol to my
wound. I winced a bit as it stinged but held still as he ripped open a bandaid a

nd smeared cream onto my finger. This time I did hiss in pain as he gently stuck
the bandaid on.
"There you go," he muttered gruffly. "Make that redhead do all the chopping I wo
n't dock off points this time."
I smiled gratefully. "Thank you so much Garrett." Throwing my arms around him fr
om instinct, he stiffened before awkwardly patting my back. That was when I real
ized that we were in a cramped closet with not much room.
"Sorry," I muttered clearing my throat and releasing my grip. "But thanks. Reall
y." Without looking back I exited the closet and made my way back to Amelia, lea
ving behind a guy that seemed to make fun of me one second, then be the nicest p
erson ever the next.
*********************
"And here are the chicken thighs in which we seasoned with lemon and sage. Durin
g the cooking process in the grill, we basted the pieces with chicken broth in o
rder to enhance the flavor of the meat without directly adding salt." I explaine
d to Garrett as he examined our freshly made dish.
Poking a fork into a slice of chicken and a bowtie noodle, he chewed slowly, a q
uestioning look on his face. "Nice job ladies," he muttered, finally swallowing.
"I just feel like there wasn't enough lemon."
We breathed a sigh of relief as he went to the next station.
"God he is cute," Amelia said breathlessly staring at Garrett. He did look nice,
I silently agreed looking at his backside. After the flour incident, he had cha
nged into a form fitting black button down shirt that enhanced his muscular stat
ure. It was obvious that he was fit as he rolled up the sleeves to his shirt and
demonstrated how to chop a cuccumber into thin slices.
"Anyhow, it's not like he's avaliable anways thanks to that Mira girl or whateve
r. Apparently she broke his heart. He's still healing from her oh so torturous b
reak up."
I frowned at her. "How do you know all of this?"
Reaching into her brown satchel, she extracted a copy of the most recent People
magazine. "It tells it all in this mag. Every juicy detail."
My curiosity grew and I asked, "Can I borrow it for the day?"
She laughed at me, the kind of laugh where her mouth opens and it sounds real. "
Of course. It's got everything about him."
I couldn't wait to start reading.
************************
Excited for the gossip? What do you think happened between him and Mira? She's t
he same girl Garrett and Toben were discreetly talking about last chapter. Thoug
hts?####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Eight
####################################
Hey guys! Do enjoy!

Vote Vote VOTE!!!

~~Infatuated
********************
"Hey, Kirsten. Hello?"
My head jerked up as I looked tiredly at Garrett who sat across from me, a small
frown marring his perfect features. "Have you decided what you want yet? Or do
you need more time?"
I sighed, looking down at the slightly oily green menu in my hands. Realizing th
at I had just been about to fall asleep, I shook my head. "Yeah I'm ready. Sorry
for zoning out. I'm a bit tired."
"I understand but um Kirsten, what do you want to eat?" He muttered, shifting a
bit uncomfortably in his seat.
I mentally groaned, realizing that I had just stared blankly at the menu and had
n't bothered choosing a dish. "Um... I'll just get the lemon pepper chicken."
Garrett nodded and signaled our waiter over. After ordering for the both of us,
he leaned forward with a sympathetic expression and muttered, "long night?"
"Yep, my friend's incessant babbling kept me up. She has this high tolerance for
sleep deprivation." I replied, unfolding my napkin and placing it on my legs.
We didn't say much after that, him nodding quietly and looking out the window th
at faced the green, deciduous forest and me staring intently at my hands until h
e blurted, "does your hand still hurt?"
I shook my head no. "The bleeding's stopped but it just hurts really bad when I
bend my finger too much. Not a big deal though. I'm not a damsel in distress and
I sure don't need you to be a knight in shining armour."
Garrett gave me a smile, his lips curving up pleasantly. "Sure... whatever you s
ay."
He took my hand that lay on the table and gently peeled off my gauze. What he sa
w obviously disturbed him. "God, Kirsten, who took care of you? This wound was o
bviously severe and now it looks like your hand is rotting. The person that trea
ted this must not have any common sense."
My temper flared. "Well for your information Mr. Know it All, I actually bandage
d my own hand."
"Well you didn't do that great of a job." He muttered just as hotly. " It's just
it looks pretty ugly. Stop by after school and I'll rebandage you up. You'll be
needing a new one every few hours. I'll have to stay after school to prepare so
me things so you will probably have to get a ride from my dad or James."
I stared at Garrett's face until he looked up and saw me watching him.
"What?"
"Why are you being so nice to me now? I thought you were some spoiled douche who
didn't give a crap about other peoples feelings."

I could see his jaw harden as I said this words and right when I thought he woul
dn't reply, he dropped my hand onto the table, he muttered softly, "Like I've sa
id before Kirsten, never judge a book by its cover. How long have you known me?"
He answered his own question. "One month. Does that seem like a long enough tim
e to be saying those statements?" He paused, "And if you really want to know, I'
m only like that to the people that deserve it."
Pain flashed in his eyes but I ignored it. The unopened and unread People magazi
ne in my bag came into my mind and I thought, 'I may not know your secrets now b
ut I'll soon find out.'
Just then, our food arrived and we ate in silence.
*********************
I stared at the mess I made, heaving a loud and frustrated sigh before taking up
my knife and quickly chopping some more green onions. Mr. Whitson, the aged Cul
tural Oriental teacher, had already decided to assign homework. Within the first
ten minutes of trying create little dumplings out of thin slices of dough, I h
ad wasted a pound of lamb meat, two slices of ginger, all of the dough he had pr
ovided for us, and my patience.
Taking the silver chopsticks, I picked up a small clump of meat, and with sever
e precision, placed it upon the dough. Picking up the thin slice of dough, I lay
ed it in my palm and tried folding it up in the way Mr. Whitson had showed us ea
rlier.
Seconds later, the dough split in half and the meat came spilling out.
"You're not pinching it the right way." A voice muttered behind my left shoulder
and I screamed, jumping up and dropping the chopsticks on the ground.
Garrett stood behind me, a small amused look on his face as he looked at me. His
eyes trailed up and down my body, and for some reason I grew nervous under his
scrutiny.
"You have flour in your hair." He muttered softly, brushing his hand and dusting
off the white particles. "Who'd you think I was? A murderer who's going to chop
open your brains with a butter knife?"
"Isn't it a rational fear?" I asked sarcastically, sneezing as a bit of flour se
nsitized my nose. I could feel myself blush so I muttered sharply, "if you know
how to make dumplings, why don't you show me then?"
He grinned at my attitude and washed his hands quickly, the muscles in his arms
twitching as he scrubbed.
God, he had nice hands...
Snapping myself
l came over me,
of chopsticks,
was a perfectly

out of my ogling, I stiffened as he came close and his nice smel

he rolled up his sleeves and sliced the dough. Taking a new pair
he easily scooped up the meat and in a few millliseconds, there
folded dumpling in his hand.

"Woah, woah, woah," I muttered, "Please put your cooking, folding, and magic on
slow motion."
He grinned then took my hand, his warm fingers ironically sending shivers up my
back. Noticing that the distance between the two of us was slowly becoming small
er and smaller, I shifted nervously as he placed a slice of dough and stuck a wh

ollop of meat on top.

"It's like this," he muttered softly, taking my fingers and gently pinching them
together, the dough in between my fingers. "It's a simple concept really. Just
pinch and turn, pinch and turn until the whole thing folds up into a nice little
dumpling. See? Didn't Mr. Whitson teach this to y'all today?"
I grumbled as I set down the perfectly folded dumpling onto the metal pan. "Let'
s just say that I may have been a little to tired to focus on anything."
Garrett laughed, causing me to look up with surprise. Garrett never laughed like
the way he was laughing right now since the time I've been here. "What's so fun
ny?" I asked, turning to try my hand on another dumpling.
"Nothing," he said, "except for the fact when I had Mr. Whitson, it wasn't too h
ard for anyone to fall asleep. He's blind in one eye so if you sit in the exact
right spot, he won't see you do anything. Let me guess, you sat in the far right
corner next to the Chinese lanterns?"
I nodded.
He grinned. "Just don't sit there too often. There's some wicked spiders that li
ve in that lantern."
I shivered. Spiders, no matter what kind, were the one thing I couldn't stand. G
ive me a bucketful of snakes and flies and I wouldn't flinch. Take me to the Den
ver Museum of Natural History to see Bessie the Tarantula, and I would flip out.
"How'd you know there was spiders in the lanterns?"
Immediately, Garrett's face fell as he focused his attention on his forming dump
ling. "My father made me go to the insititute myself so that he could show me of
f to all the other instructors."
I realized that I had hit a nerve; talking about his father, though I had no ide
a why it bothered him so much.
After a few minutes of silence and me struggling to keep the meat inside of the
dough, I said, "Like this?" showing him my slightly crooked dumpling.
He winced slightly before sighing and muttering, "I guess this is going to take
a while."
********************
Thirty minutes later, a pot of steamed dumplings sat in front of me, all made no
ne other than Garrett.
"I can't believe you made me make your homework." He grumbled, back in his playf
ul mood, wiping his hands on his apron. "This is the equivilant of bullying a ne
rd into doing math problems for you."
"I wouldn't know," I teased, "perfect A+ student right here. Valecdictorian of m
y class."
"Yeah, that's because the nerd did all your homework. Now tell me Miss Valecdict
orian of my Class, how did you blackmail this poor student?"
"Shut up," I muttered cheekily. "I promised not to throw him in the trash can if
he did all my work."

"Well on that note," he said, "I guess you owe me something, right?"
I gulped suddenly nervous at his cheerful attitude. From what he was displaying
now, my assumption that he was some moody, arrogant, guy who couldn't crack a ge
nuine smile to save his life, was obviously incorrect.
"Um, I guess so."
"Okay then... what should it be? You have to wash and slice every single potato
for tomorrow's lesson? Maybe clean all the work stations after school? Okay, I g
ot it. You get to go out to dinner with me. Friday at six. Wear something fancy.
"
I raised my eyebrows at his request. "Explain how taking me out to dinner is con
sidered a punishment for all the dumplings you made." I gestured at the pot.
Garrett's foolish smile slipped for a moment before muttering in a faux cheerful
voice, "I've heard that I'm insufferable."
In a teasing voice, I groaned. "I better start writing my will. I don't know how
long I'll be able to last."
"Ha ha, very funny," Garrett muttered dryly, taking my pot of dumplings and sett
ing them down on the table. "Let's see how my masterpieces taste."
Taking a pair of chopsticks, he sat down and snagged a steaming dumpling. He che
wed for a few seconds before his expression turned into mild disgust. I could te
ll that he was resisting the urge to throw it up so I handed him a napkin and sa
id, "Remember, you were the one who made them."
"Yeah, I was the one who made them, but I sure as hell did not make the lamb mea
t. How much green onion and ginger did you put in here? And why is there a massi
ve piece of ginger lying here?"
I looked blankly at him. "Um, the recipe said two chunks of ginger."
He glared at me, wiping his mouth. "And did it say anything about putting them i
n water?"
"Um yeah, but I put the water and ginger in the meat. Isn't that what is require
d?" I asked.
His grossed out expression gave me my answer. "You were suppose to shred the gin
ger, soak it in water, then put the ginger water, without the ginger, into the m
eat."
"Okay, I'm sorry," I cried, banging my head against the table. "I cook Italian c
uisine, not Chinese takeout! I don't use ginger on a daily basis, only for my gi
nger ale."
I could hear Garrett laughing so I looked up and there he was, shaking his head
at me with a big grin on his face. "Oh Kirsten, looks like you owe me two dinner
dates." He muttered, getting up and dumping all the ginger infested dumplings i
n the trash. "Just be glad my family eats a lot of lamb."
"Oh god." I moaned, watching Garrett start working on another batch. "I am so ch
eating and this is the first homework assignment."
********************

"So, how was school, Kirsten?" Mr. Bianchi asked, forking a piece of Italian sau
sage into his mouth, a polite expression on his face as he chewed.
I looked up from my plate and smiled shyly in his direction. "Good, far better t
han I expected."
Garrett snorted from his spot and I glared at him. He had been a fairly decent g
uy when we were alone, but once we commenced eating with his family, his dispost
ition seemed to slip and go down the drain. I blamed the lack of a father son re
lationship between the two.
"That's good." Mr. Bianchi said vacantly, not looking up from his magazine.
Yivanni cleared her throat before asking. "I trust Garrett has been helping you
get around and meet some of the students there?"
I cast Garrett a discreet glance before answering her. "Yeah, he's the perfect g
entleman when he's around certain people. I don't know what I would do if he did
n't show me around. I owe him a lot." The emphasis on 'owe his a lot' was direct
ed towards Garrett who shot me a smirk and wiggled his eyebrows.
The oblivious older woman smiled. "Have you made any friends yet?"
I smiled back. "Yes, several nice people."
When Amelia had slowly befriended me, it had opened me up to a whole group of pe
ople that welcomed me into their mini family. There was Ross, a gay twenty nine
year old who wanted to open up a sweets shop, Emily, a shy twenty three year old
, who dropped out of Harvard to come here, Charlotte, a goth looking chick who h
ad a cheerful persona, and Terrence, the thirty two year old who showed me a ful
l leg tattoo of his fiance of three years.
Before Yivanni could say anything, my cellphone burst out into the tune of Viva
La Vida, by ColdPlay. I blushed furiously and scrambled out of my seat before wa
lking out the door. The ringtone was unfamiliar as was the number on my screen b
ut I answered anyways.
"Hello?"
"Hey Kirsten, long time no see. Well I guess you would say talk now, eh?"
I flinched at the stranger's awful joke and frowned for a second before I recogn
ized the deep masculine voice.
"Oh... hey Jackson."####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Nine
####################################
Votes and comments would be appreciated!
Also, some people have asked who Jackson is. If you look back, he was another wa
iter at L'amore and has the crush on Kirsten.
~~Infatuated
********************
"How are you, Kirsten?" Jackson asks again, prompting me to speak.

I plastered on a smile even though he couldn't see it and cheerfully replied. "I
'm doing pretty well. But, um, Jackson? How did you get my number?"
Jackson laughed sheepishly the bustle of L'amore's kitchen audible in the backgr
ound, "I managed to bribe Pierre to give it to me once I told him my very good r
eason."
"Which is....." I trailed off, awkwardly twisting the hem of my shirt and placi
ng my phone on a random stool, turning on speaker phone so that I could hear him
better.
Another nervous laugh came over the phone. "Well I was hoping that we could plan
our friendly dinner date? Some time this week? You kind of left me hanging here
so I wasn't sure if I could make plans or something... I know that you're prett
y busy wih studying and whatnot and the fact that you currently live sixty miles
away kind of interfers but how about Friday? I'll pick you up?"
Oh shit, how could I forget? Our dinner date. The date I promised him we could h
ave only as friends, and here he was, talking as if we were actually a couple. M
y patience with him as I noted his oblivion was slowly starting to wear down.
I mentally bang my head against the brick wall. "Um, Friday sounds great. But si
nce it is a long drive, why don't I just meet you at La Crepe at seven? Does tha
t sound okay?"
The relief in his voice was evident as he muttered, "Awesome. So, um, I will see
you Friday. I can't wait!"
"Well someone sounds desperate." Garett muttered from behind me as I shut my pho
ne close, and again, for the second time in a day, I jumped up and glared at his
casual form leaning against the wall.
"Cripes," I hissed holding my hand to my chest, "you have got to stop sneaking u
p on me. And where did you come from?"
"Cripes?" He raised an eyebrow. "Nice word choice you Brit. I see Toben's rubbed
off on you. I came from my mother's uterus years ago. Where'd you come from? Ac
taully, I just came from the restroom. My word of advice? Don't put your calls o
n speaker phone because some stray ears may hear every word."
He didn't give me a chance to reply, just shot me a casual smile and muttered, "
Guys that are that desperate aren't worth having around."
"You would know," I retorted, crossing my arms.
His smirk widened. "God, it is funny arguing with you, Ms. Spitfire. All I'm try
ing to do is help you with your love life. Do I look even remotely gay?"
The issue was he didn't.
"Here give me your phone, I'll fix the speaker phone issue" I reluctantly handed
it to him, making sure I didn't touch his skin because I wasn't in the mood to
feel the sparks fly between us.
He pressed a few button, scrolled through something, before grinning and pressin
g another buttob. "You may be fiesty, Kirsten, but you sure are gullible."
The second he said that Jackson's voice rang through the speaker. "Hello, Kirste
n?"

"Hi, Jackson right? I'm sorry but Kirsten can't come to the phone. She just foun
d out that she'll be busy on Friday and can't go with you on your date. I'm afra
id I will have to cance-"
"Garrett!" I screamed, lunging at him. He easily blocked me before continued tal
king. "And if you seriously can't take a hint, here's a simple conspicuous one.
She doesn't want to date you. Have a nice night."
He clicked the phone shut and grinned at me as I seethed and reached for my cell
.
"Garret I don't know your middle name Bianchi, what kind of jerkish move is that
you idiot?! How did you know I didn't want to go out with him? Huh? You imcebil
e!"
"It's Robert."
"Excuse me?"
"My middle name is Robert. What?" He asked, obviously enjoying the infuriated lo
ok on my face. "You indirectly asked me what my middle name is and I told you. D
on't get mad or anything."
I was at a loss for words. "You, you, you, scoundrel, you jerk!"
"Hey! Don't shoot the messanger. I told him that you aren't interested in him be
cause you aren't. I know girl, okay? Shouldn't you give me a hug and thank me fo
r getting you out of an incredibly awkward night with a wimp who won't properly
ask you out?"
"Just give me back my phone!"
He pocketed the device patting his back pocket where it was safe and snug next t
o.... oh god. There goes my plans of retrieving it.
"Do you think I'll give it back right now? You'll just call him and apologize an
d ask him out like all girls do. Nope, it's staying with me."
I glared at his retreating back but didn't say anything as I walked back into th
e dining room, because I knew that he was right. That is what my good soul would
of done
"Everything alright, dear?" Yivanni asked as I took my seat.
"Everything is just fine, thank you. Just a phone call from a friend inquiring h
ow I am. Oh my, this chicken pot pie looks delectable." I mumbled with a fake an
d strained smile on my face.
Garrett smirked from his seat as Yivanni muttered mildy, "It's lemon meriguie, b
ut I'll tell the chef anyhow."
I glared at him, before laughing. Nervously. "My bad. I don't feel that great ri
ght now and it must be affecting my eye sight and taste ability. I think I will
retire for the night if that's okay with you all."
"Go ahead," Yivanni said, shooting me a small smile. "I hope you feel better tom
orrow."
Once I managed to escape the dining room, I sped walked to my room, sighing in r

elief when I finally opened up and door and flopped onto my bed. My bag that res
ted on a chair come into my vision and I eyed it wearily before gingerly taking
out Amelia's People Magazine.
The cover was slick and glossy under my fingertips, displaying a close up image
of Jennifer Lopez and her two children. The sidebar showed other celebrities, no
ne giving any juicy gossip about Garrett and the oh so famous 'Mira'.
Wasting no time, I quickly flipped through the table of contents and noticed a s
pecific one labeled, 'Bianci Heir's Love Conquests... Or Not?'. Snorting at the
overdramatized title, I opened up the magazine to page 56 and found myself stari
ng at a smirking, confident, Garrett.
Sucking in a breath, my gaze traveled down the picture, admiring the tight black
dress shirt and low slung marble washed jeans. His brown hair was tousled back,
looking effortless even though the stylists had taken probably hours to manage
it, and the lazy grin on his face displayed his arrogance and conceitedness.
At least in my opinion.
So why did my heart do a little flip when I saw his picture?
I shook my head, now irritated, and proceeded to read the article.
'The Heir to the Bianchi Culinary Institute, worth billions of dollars, Garrett
Bianchi, is an attractive man of 23 and is already one of the most sought after
males in the States. Rumored to be a heartbreaker, Garrett has always appeared m
ysterious and quiet when talking to reporters about his love life.
However, in the recent time, a new name has popped out into the media world and
seems to be directly related to the prodigy chef. Mira Withers, a 22 year old mo
del who has appeared briefly in several sitcoms such as How I Met Your Mother an
d high fashion ads, seems to have caught the attention of the devilishly handsom
e man. As we first reported, the two seemed to be a couple during the early mont
hs of the year. Spotted on May 1, 2011, the two were cozying it up at a small ic
e cream parlour in Colorado Springs, a two hour drive from the Bianchi Mansion a
nd only several minutes from Mira's secluded estate in Black Forest. This event
spurred the question, 'Who's falling for who?'
This love story gets even stranger. On May 21, half a year since they were first
seen together, an image of a crying Mira and a stoic faced Garrett spread acros
s the internet like crazy. But then recently, they were spotted talking in a par
king lot, Winters looking defiant and Bianchi bored. After that moment, the two
were spotted seperately, but never together.
So that leaves many unanswered questions that thousands of teenage girls and wom
en across America want answered about the newest and hottest bachelor.'
The article ended with several images of Garrett and a fuzzy image of two figure
s sitting at an ice cream booth. There was no image of Mira Withers.
I sighed, closing the magazine. What people saw in these celebrity articles were
completely beyond me. Staring down at an ad for Justin Bieber's new perfume, I
gave a frustrated cry and threw the magazine across the room. Due to the length
of the bedroom, the pile of papers only managed to sail over my bed before thump
ing on my floor pathetically, the pages splaying open to display Garrett nice fi
gure.

In my nineteen years of live, I had never felt the way I was feeling now. Sure,
there had been moments where I was infatuated with one boy, while having a crush
on another, but the way I felt right now just didn't seem right.
The way I responded to his touch, especially when he was bandaging my finger, wa
s enough to know that I had a bigger than big crush on the 'hottest bachelor in
America'. It was completely absurd too. Garrett was one of the most rudest, arro
gant, bipolar, and shut off from reality person I have ever met and yet I still
managed to find something good about him. But was it because of his attractivene
ss or was it something different? When I realized that I didn't know the answer,
just that I was nursing a small crush on a guy I had met a little over a month
ago, my stomack filled with dread. How could this happen? My heart had been brok
en once and was now just mending itself.
Jake Varess was the one boy I had ever felt any romantic notion about, past all
the crushes and giggling. With spiked blond hair and a killer smile like Garrett
, he had been the one guy I could see a small future with. We had dated for two
years in high school, before the Senior class erupted in scandal, and I found my
self glaring at the handsome 6 foot 3 football player as he danced with... Mira
Withers.
Suddenly I jolted up, my movements frantic as I grasped the magazine. There, rig
ht there.
Mira Withers, currently twenty two years old.
The Mira Withers I had known had been two years older than me, already a sophmor
e in college when Jake had asked her to Homecoming and she had accepted, knowing
fully that the two of us were dating. When they slow danced, him trailing kisse
s up her neck and her looking at him with adoration in her eyes and at me with a
knowing smirk, my heart had torn apart with a rip, and a wall began forming aro
und my wounded organ.
Jumping up, I hurried to my laptop. Plugging in the charger, I hurridly typed in
her name on the Google Search bar with shaking fingers. Images popped up over m
y computer screen. Images of her posing in a revealing sports bra, her in How I
Met Your Mother, her kissing another model while dripped in paint, her staring s
traight at the camera, a crooked grin on her face.
She looked barely any different from two years ago, with wavy blonde hair and ba
by blue eyes and a figure that looked as if she lived at the gym. The only diffe
rence was that her nose was longer and straight, and her breasts had grown. A lo
t.
Scrolling down, I saw no images of her with Garrett so I retyped in her name alo
ng with Garrett's. And there it was. Only one picture had any relevance to the t
wo of them, but it was enough evidence for me.
Staring at the two of them sharing a ridiculously small ice cream cone so it was
guaranteed that they were sharing salivia, a feeling of hatred and sadness wash
ed over me.
The guy I was actually starting to like was taken by the girl who had once ruine
d my life.
A knock on my door startled me, pulling me out of my self misery. Opening the do
or, I came face to face with my cellphone and Garrett.
I gulped. Right now was not the right time for him to be visiting. Hoping that h
e wouldn't see my computer screen of him with a woman or the open magazine displ

aying his figure, two totally stalkerish moves on my part, I closed my door behi
nd me.
"What do you want?" I snapped.
He raised an eyebrow at me, "Just came to return your phone. It kept on buzzing
and was really starting to irritate me. Some chick named Elle kept on texting an
d saying something about a Nick and hot guys named Garrett Bianchi. Sound famili
ar?"
My face flamed as I snatched the phone out of his hand.
"What, not even a thank you?"
"Thank you."
"And by the way, you will find that Jack'ass'on's number is no longer in your co
ntacts. Sweet dreams."
As I slammed the door in his face, I also slammed it on a new crush, one that I
seemed to be falling head over heels for.
********************
I bet you weren't expecting that, eh?
Comments and votes appreciated!####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Ten
####################################
Don't forget to vote and comment for moi!
~~Infatuated
*********************
Tuesday passed quickly and before I knew it, Wednsday was approaching.
Wednsday. I should be excited; after all it was my dinner with Garrett but I cou
ldn't help feel weary and worn out at the prospect of meeting the guy that had a
history with Mira, complicating it more, the guy who I was currently nursing a
little crush on.
I sighed as I stared at the contents of my closet. The room I was in had a massi
ve walk in closet, equipped with shelves, hangers, drawers, and a lot of racks.
The clothes I had brought with me only used up about one fifth of the space the
wall in closet provided.
The only problem with my current clothes was that there wasn't anything fancy in
it. I had only taken jeans, t-shirts, and the occasional skirt. The dress I wor
e to the Bianchi dinner party ages ago was the only formal looking thing I could
possibly find admist all the casual clothing and that seemed a bit too formal f
or a casual dinner.
Frustrated, I kicked one of my high heels into the corner, and pulled out my cel
lphone. The time read 7:25. Dinner had finshed half an hour ago and I had been l
ooking for anything I could possibly wear for what seemed like ages.
Making sure that my wallet was in my purse, along with pepper spray that I alway

s carried after watching Twilight, after much persuasion from Elle, I pocketed m
y phone and headed down the hall to Yivanni's study.
She was typing out a long paragraph furiously, the light of the computer screen
illuminating her face. The sound of keys clacking must of caused her not to be a
ble to hear my approach. I gently tapped her shoulder and she turned with a star
t before realizing it was me and smiling.
"What can I do for you?" She asked, smoothing out her skirt.
"Oh, I hope I wasn't bothering you." I muttered sincerely, "but I was wondering
if I could borrow a car to take to the mall. I need to buy a couple of... things
."
"Of course you can! Here take this key," she handed my a black Audi key, "and it
belongs to the red Audi on the far right. Nameplate should say B3N H89. And Kir
sten? Don't ask next time. Just grab the key and go wherever you want."
Weakly I shook my head yes while staring down at the key she had placed in my ha
nd. An Audi? Did she not expect me to kill myself while driving such a thing?"
On my way out of the door, checking to make sure that Garrett was.'t around, I w
as about to open up the door that lead to the garage, when it swung open, displa
ying Toben and Goldie.
"Holy crap." I shrieked as Toben began laughing.
"Did I frighten you my dear? Why madam, I am terribly sorry. Will you accept my
sincere apology for giving you a scare?"
So today was an old fashioned British accent, eh?
"What are you doing here?" I asked him as he let go of Goldie's lease and bounde
d into the house with a string of joyful barks.
"I was coming to visit Garrett like I normally do. Why are you going out on this
cold, gloomy, desolate night? It's drizzling."
I grimaced. "I have to go shopping for a dress. Not the most fun, I know."
Toben's eyes lit up as I mentioned shopping and fell out of his character for a
second when he exclaimed, "can I go with you?"
He saw me
black car
pinion is
d talk in

hesitate and swung his arm around my shoulder, steering me to a shiny

that I presumed was his. "Come on Kirsten. You know that a gay guy's o
always the best. Even though I'm not like the gays who wear glitter an
a high voice, I have a great fashion taste. I mean look at me!"

I laughed at his comment as he opened up the shotgun door for me. Then he close
d the door and opened up his side, sliding in easily. "Sorry 'bout the chew toys
and the dog smell. Goldie is very spoiled."
"It's fine." I muttered, just happy with not having to drive a fancy Audi.
"Now tell me Kirsten, where are we off too. And why do you need to go shopping?"
I twisted my purity ring around my finger nervously as I stared at the trees pas
sing at a high speed, even though we were still on the long driveway. "Um well y
ou see - slow down Toben you'll hit the trash can!-, Garrett did a very kind fav
or for me the other day and I have to repay him and he suggested my debt be paid

by him taking me out to dinner." Toben's eyebrows raised and for a second he lo
oked really angry so I quickly added, "it's weird though cause I don't consider
it as a debt payment."
Toben seemed more distracted than before and I could just see his brain thinking
hard as he replied, "I'm sure it's nothing, Kirsten. Now which color would look
better on you? Purple or red? Guess we'll have to try on both."
********************
"Kirsten, look at this one? Wouldn't it match your eyes? Or this one. No no too
Christmassy." Was the first few words Toben muttered as we entered Macy.
"Hey, hey, calm down Toben. We have an hour. Chill. No need to run around grabbi
ng all the dresses..... never mind then."
I sighed as Toben came back with ten dresses of all kinds under a minute. "Um, w
ouldn't you like to know what shoes I have before you take everything off the ra
cks? Because I'm pretty sure blue shoes wouldn't match with a green dress. Am I
right?"
Toben's eyes went wide. "Blue shoes? Why didn't you say so. Oh my god this won't
work, this defint-"
"Toben, Toben, I never said they were blue. They're actually gold, strappy ones.
Three inches and they crisscross at the toes."
The relief was so evident on his face -and comical- that I couldn't help but lau
gh.
"Well in that case," Toben muttered, "Have fun trying all of these on."
Fifty minutes later, after zipping up countless dresses, dome rather skanky and
some too formal for my tastes, Toben was getting frantic and overly distressed.
"We still haven't found the bombshell one yet! What are we going to do? All of t
hese don't match with your complextion and eye color."
Then, as I wearily looked around the numerous racks, I spotted it. Hanging from
a clearance rack, the purple dress easily caught my eye. The front of the dress
criss-crossed in gold and purple over onto my back, which was nicely covered. Th
e material was loosly hanging down, tied by a gold band under the breast area, a
nd had gold beading on the bottom hem which glittered in the light. The dress se
emed to stop at the knees which was just perfect, not slutty in the least bit.
"Toben, what about this one?" I asked, holding it up for him to inspect. He stop
ped his rant just enough to stare at the dress before going silent.
After a few
s stunning.
d flecks in
on and will
"

seconds he muttered, "maybe you didn't need me to come with you. It'
The gold brings out the purple and your heels and also helps the gol
your green eyes stand out. The purple matches with your tan complexi
look amazing with your straight black hair. Speaking of your hair...

Suddenly, I found myself agreeing to him doing my hair tomorrow, like some abuse
d Barbie forced to have a toddler's sticky hands mess with her hair.
As we sat in the car driving back to the mansion, me exhausted from arguing to p
ay for my own outfit and losing, Toben suddenly blurted out, "Did Garrett tell y
ou why he wanted to take you out for dinner? I mean, you're hot for a girl, Kirs
ten, but isn't it weird that he's been such a jerk and all of a sudden want to t

ake you out?"

I bit my lip and sighed, "I've thought about it and truthfully, I don't care. We
're just friends, I think."
"Do you like him? Be truthful."
"Yeah I like him when he's not a jackass."
"Kirsten..."
"Okay fine! I think I like him but I'm pretty sure its just an infatuation thing
okay? Not a big deal. I've known him for a little while so I don't think it's g
oing to turn into anything major."
He was silent after my outburst but finally muttered, "I see. Thanks for telling
me Kirsten."
Just then, we pulled into the garage not allowing us to continue the awkward con
versation.
Toben helped me take out my dress and we silently headed into the house. Neither
Goldie nor Garrett was anywhere to be seen. After we set down the dress in my r
oom, Toben cleared his throat and muttered, "I have a question Kirsten..."
I sighed and rolled my eyes before asking, "what question?" I was gearing up for
another cross examination when he replied cheerfully, "Can you make me somethin
g to eat?"
Surprised at his rather simple request, I nodded and we headed into the kitchen
together after I dropped my dress into my room.
"Why is it so runny?" Toben asked as he stared at the panini I had just placed i
n front of him ten minutes later.
"It has eggplant with antipesto and loads of meat with butter. Of course it's go
ing to be runny. Let the master chef here do what's she's doing." I said with a
sigh, dropping down into the stool next to Toben.
He shrugged before taking a massive bite. "That's cool with me. As long as I get
to eat."
"You can eat somewhere out of the kitchen." A new voice muttered crossly. Toben
and I both turned to see Garrett holding a bucket of strawberries and a bag of s
ugar.
"What got up your ass, matie?" Toben asked, lifting his feet and crossing them o
ver a chair.
"The fact that I need to prepare a buttload of stawberry granita for my class to
morrow is up my ass. Now if you'll excuse me..." he dumped the contents on the n
earest counter, "I need to steal Kirsten so she can do all the work for me."
"Way to be blunt." I grumbled just as Toben muttered, "Can I be the tastetester?
"
"No. And that's final. I don't want a twenty minute debate like the last time I
was making something." Garrett grumbled, rolling up his sleeves and washing his
hands.

"Okay, okay," Tobenn muttered, stuffing the rest of his panini in his mouth befo
re heading to the door. "I need to leave anyways. I'll go grab Goldie. In the ya
rd I resume? Well goodnight."
He exited the room before we could say anything and left just the two of us to s
tand there.
"Well anyways," Garrett muttered, You've made strawberry granita before right?"
"You insult me. Any Italian, whether they have the ability to cook or not, knows
how to make granita. Now, if you want me to help it would be purely amazing if
you could say please." I teased, coming to stand beside him, trying really hard
for my stomach to do another teenage crush flip where it felt almost as if I was
heart sick and just needed to touch him.
Damn it. There it goes.
I blamed the fact that he smelled to good.
He sighed and turned to glare at me. "Consider it the second favor you've done f
or me."
"Toben asked right. What the heck went up your butt?"
He glared at me. "Listen, you want me to be in a different mood? Then get busy w
ashing and chopping up the strawberries. I need all the help I can get."
We worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds audible were me chopping
and him stirring the sugary syrup. After a while, he turned to me and muttered.
"I'm sorry okay? Some... things just happened and it sucks when you teach 'caus
e then you have to prepare stuff the little bastards don't want to do themselves
. Not including you of course. You're not a jerk. Hell you can't even cuss prope
rly."
I raised an eyebrow at him. "I'll take that as a compliment. Now do you want me
to stir in the lemon yet?" I asked gesturing to the boiling pot.
"Yeah, sure go ahead." Garrett shrugged. "Just don't mess up, Ms. 'I'm Italian s
o I know how to Make Granita."
I, in turn, glared at him.
"So tell me." I said, trying to break the silence when Garrett didn't react to m
y facial expressions. "What are we doing tomorrow in class?"
Garrett sighed before turning to me. "We're having a little competition. Every p
erson that makes the best dessert that compliments with the strawberry granita w
ill win. And since you already know what's going on, guess you get to be my assi
stant?"
"Wait, so how many classes do you have?" I asked, frowning at the giant two bowl
s of unwashed strawberries and the bowl of finished ones. "And where does all th
e food go to? I don't see you or anyone else in the family eat all of this."
"I have two classes that's going to be using the strawberry granita. Yours and a
n Italian class. We donate all the food to the poor so don't mess up."
I raised my eyebrows at his comment. "Really? This is the first time I've heard
of any institute donating its food."

"Well yeah, before we usually either threw it away or tried to eat it. But then
I decided to open up a soup kitchen in downtown Colorado where I send all the fo
od there. I'm in charge and I head down there every other night at best."
Uh oh. My crush for him just developed. Kindhearted? Since when?
"I've been kindhearted ever since I could remember." He retorted. "I just don't
show it very often."
Startled, I accidently sliced my thumb on the grater, the skin peeling off and f
alling onto the board, making me quickly brush it off in disgust. He had heard m
e voice my thoughts? No he didn't... couldn't.
"How would you like to come down with me some time?" Suddenly Garrett's voice se
emed almost soft and gentle.
"Like a date?" I asked. Oh god, what was wrong with me?
"Yeah like a date." He turned to smile at me.
But then his gaze dropped to my thumb and he nearly shouted. "God lord, Kirsten!
Do you always have to injure yourself on something? Is it completely necessary?
"
I glanced down at my thumb which was bleeding slightly at the very center. Only
the skin had been torn off, leaving a raw patch on the tip of my finger. "Good g
od, Garrett!" I mimicked him, sticking my thumb in my mouth and sucking the bloo
d off. "Do you always have to get so pissy all the time?"
Garrett stared at me, no emotion on his face. His gaze flickered to my mouth bef
ore he muttered, "sorry."
I didn't reply as I looked back at him, and he didn't stop looking at me. Our tr
ance was broken when the sound of water sizzling on the stove came to our ears.
"Quick, quick," Garrett shouted, "The lemon!!"
********************
"Thanks for the help." Garrett muttered sincerely as we stuck the last pan of st
rawberry syrup in the freezer. "I would still be washing strawberries right now
if it wasn't for you."
"Anytime." I smiled brightly. "And, Garrett?"
"Yeah?"
"I would love to go with you to your soup kitchen."
God. Those damn hormones. There goes my stomach and heart again.
That night, I realized that whether or not there was a Mira, whether or not he m
ay like me back, whether or not it would ever work between us, I would always ha
ve a teensy weensy crush on him.
I mean, can you blame me?
********************
Hey guys! I'm considering having part of the next chapter be in Garrett's pov si

nce the date scene is next! Comments?

Don't forget! 100 votes! If half of y'all vote we'll reach it quicker!##########
##########################
Interview With Kirsten Gabrielle Bellini/ Garrett Robert Bianchi
####################################
So I'm conducting interviews with my amazing spectacular characters and I will d
o them when I am awaiting for something. *cough cough I need a hundred votes on
Chapter Ten before continuing* or when I have writers block. So please vote and
enjoy!
I need fifty votes and 100 on the previous chapter!
~~Infatuated
Background Infomation (written by the character herself)
Name: Kirsten Gabrielle Bellini
Age: Nineteen, I'm over the hill :)
Birthday: June 21
Birthplace: Colorado Springs, Colorado
Location: Colorado Springs, Colorado
Occupation: Chef and student
Gender: Now there's a really hard question...
Height: 5' 10" I look like a giant compared to Elle
Hair Color: Black
Hair Style: Straight as a stick
Eye Color: I wish I could say grey, like a certain someone, but they're green.
Skin Color: Tan in the summer, pale in the winter. What's with these questions?
A.N they're not questions :)
Ethnicty: 100% Italian

Interview
Welcome readers! Today I'm with Kirsten Bellini, the beloved protagonist of my r
omance story, Culinaira L'amore. Do enjoy.
I: So tell me Kirsten, how have you been coping with your father's death since t
hat horrid automobile accident?
K: It has been pretty hard. Not only mentally but also physically because of L'a
more and dealing with working double shifts and stuff. The damn lawyers have not
been helping out my mother and I's situation. Sometimes I regret coming to the
Bianchi Institute because I can't keep close tabs on how the restaurant is runni

ng and because I don't have the ability to aid my mother's suffering.

I: Speaking of the Bianchi Institute, what prompted you to accept their offer to
go to their institute for free?
K: Oh wow, um, there were several things I guess. My mother's encouragement was
probably the main one. Her approval is probably the most important thing to me.
If she was okay with it and the yearlong class was free, I just thought that may
be it was the proper path to take. Besides, in order to advertise L'amore to the
public it's best that there is some credential that there is a cook that gradua
ted from the Bianchi Institute of Culinary Arts.
I: So do you think you have learned a lot from your instructors.
K: (laughs) Well I've only been in school for a couple of days but I have learne
d a few things, such as making Chinese dumplins. Even though I run a Italian res
taurant.
I: I bet Garrett really helped you with that. Is he a great teacher?
K: Yeah, plus he is caring and sweet, when he isn't in his pissy, eff off mood,
so it is a lot easier to learn from him.
I: Caring and sweet? Only in the kitchen?
K: I have no idea what you are talking about.
I: Next topic! Have you and Toben developed your friendship?
K: Definitely. He is such a sweet and caring guy that I would date him if he was
n't gay. Just dont tell that to him; it would inflate his ego even though he doe
sn't play for that field. Plus, he has a great sense of fashion which is really
nice when I need help.
I: Like when he helped you for your date with Garrett?
K: Yeah, of co- wait that dinner thing was not a date. He brought me there becau
se I owed him.
I: Oh sweetie. I am the writer. I know what's a date and what is not. Dont you w
ant to know why he asked you in the first place?
K: Well sort of...
I: Now that is a story for another time. Anywho, what are your feelings for Garr
ett?
K: Way to be blunt.
I: Hey, I need to know if my plans are working. And the readers want to know too
.
K: Fine. When he's not in a bad mood he is incredibly sweet and is genuinely nic
e and kind. Like the soup kitchen, who in a million years would of thought moody
and sarcastic Garrett was feeding tens of people in Colorado Springs? At least
not me. Especially when we first met at the funeral. But the sad thing is he has
a lot of secrets. A lot. And I can tell Mira has defintely affected his life as
have some other things like his parents for instance. I just hope once we start
spening more time together to prepare for the Cu- oh wait, I'm not suppose to b
e talking about that am I?

I: Haha nope. Sorry.

K: Plus, he has very nice abs. Like when we went to the- damn it! I'm not suppos
e to be talking about that either! But anyways, I'm just kind of sceptical that
he really really likes me in the way I like him. Why would he have me, a girl fo
ur years younger than him, when he could have girls like Mira?
I: Have you two KISSED? O.o
K: Shouldn't you know? Possibly... maybe, maybe not. You'll just have to read on
.
I: So you are afraid that he won't like you back.
K: Yes.
I: When did you first fall for him?
K: Probably at the funeral when his was a complete bastard. And then when he tol
d me about the soup kitchen. He really is a kind hearted guy, really. It may not
show but he literally is perfect.
Well, except his attitude...
I: Well you have already met his parents, when is he going to meet your mom?
K: Hah, you"re getting ahead of yourself. We are not actually dating yet, I'm st
ill waiting for him to ask me. But to tell you the truth, I think my mom wants m
e to hook up with Garrett. Like with that phone call couple of wee- damn it I di
d it again. Ignore that comment eh?
I: Are you that in love with him that if he were break your heart you would feel
as if you were about to die?
K: What is up with the abrupt change in subject? And what are those words suppos
e to mean?! Don't tell me you're foreshadowing an event!?
I: Ah watching you be tortured is marvelous. It is merely a rhetorical question,
for now at least. Let me ask you a really serious question. If something was to
happen to him, would you stay by his side and never leave him?
K: Now that is a hard question. If I loved him enough yes.
I: So do you still have feelings for Ha- crap, I'm sorry. These slipups are driv
ing me insane!
K: I know right?
I: Okay well I am going to end here before I give too much away so have a nice d
ay Kirsten!
K: Thanks you too. P.S. if something does happen to Garrett or our relationship.
... lets just say that I know where you live.
Interview With Garrett Bianchi
Character Information (filled by the character himself)

Name: Garrett Robert Bianchi

Age: 23
Birthdate: December 18
Birthplace: Albany, New York
Current Location: Denver, Colorado
Occupation: Chef and Teacher
Gender: Male
Height: 6' 3"
Hair Color: Black
Hair Style: Garrett-Style
Eye Color: Grey
Skin Color: a bit racist, aren't we?
Ethnicity: Italian
I: Wow Garrett, you filled out your form without more than two snide remarks. Ki
rsten had much much more.
G: You interviewed Kirsten already?
I: I love how you totally zone in on the words I say in relation to Kirsten. Yes
, I did interview her already because she's the main character, not you. She's m
ore special and important.
G: Big overstatement of the year.
I: Come on, you know Kirsten's going to be reading this, be nice to your girlfri
end.
G: She's not my girlfriend.
I: Yet. Remember, I'm the one manipulating the story. Either way, however, we al
l know your head over heels.
G: Dannazione sta 'zitto. And I don't wear heels.
I: Ooh, sexy Garrett. Cussing me out in Italian. Is that what Kirsten finds attr
active? Never mind, let me get to the actual questions. First one, what'd grudge
do you hold against your parents? You're always insulting them.
G: Other than the fact that they forced me to become a chef and a teacher and wa
nt me to be the next big thing, there's some facts that I'm not allowed to talk
about due to contract they made me sign a while back that keeps me quiet.
I: So there is more than just the obvious things.
G: Next question.
I: Someone's grumpy today, eh? So Garrett, what is your true personality behind

the sarcasm, and moodiness?

G: Sarcasm and moodiness.
I: Very funny. But seriously, its been displayed before. You're a sweet guy to K
irsten. Is that a mood especially reserved for her?
G: Truthfully, it's hard not to be sweet to Kirsten. Especially after all she's
been through, she deserves some sweetness from anyone. And I guess I was at the
right time and place to provide the friendship for her in such a difficult time.
I: Speaking of friendship, how did you and Toben meet?
G: In college at some crazy frat party.
I: freshman year right? Before you dropped out?
G: Yep, he was trying to become an artist or a crazy soliciting business man and
I was just in college just to be in college. Of course that little episode didn
't last long thanks to my mother.
I: What is your opinion of gay and lesbian people since he is a gay?
G: I support it. Nobody should tell others who they can love. It's that simple.
I'm not religious so it may be different for others who have different beliefs.
But personally, whoever Toben ends up with is his decision which I will accept.
I: Is it ever awkward when you talk about girls and suddenly he starts talking a
bout his new boyfriend?
G: Sometimes I don't know what to really say since he is gay but like I stated b
efore, I support him. Just because I don't know what it's like to be gay doesn't
mean I can't crack a joke with him once in a while.
I: Are you worried, that as you get closer to Kirsten, that there might be some
laws that could prevent you two from having an actual relationship with her?
G: As in it's illegal to have a student-teacher relationship? Since we're both l
egal adults it wouldn't really matter.
I: But what about your parents and the media? You seem to be getting more and mo
re famous as every day goes by.
G: My mother would love it if we got together. The media could go crazy but if I
really loved this hypothetical girl, we could fight through anything.
I: Hypothetical girl as in Kirsten.
G: We'll see.
I: You didn't mention your father. Would he approve or not?
G: My relationship with my dad truthfully isn't the greatest. What he thinks on
anything that he doesn't bluntly voice out is a mystery to me.
I: Why is your relationship with him so strained?
G: Ironically, he didn't want a boy so there goes a little resentment. Then, onc
e I started smoking and messing around, he said that my behavior insulted the Bi
anchi title. That made him dislike me more. He's always imagined a perfect copy

of himself in his child and when he deals with me, he's a bit insulted that I'm
not perfect.
I: Moving on, who was your very first crush?
G: What type of question is that? Probably some blonde chick who wore pink bows
in her hair in kindergarten.
I: Thanks for telling us your type. Which brings me to ask, if Kirsten is a brun
ette whose favorite color is purple and doesn't wear pink bows, why go for a gir
l who is evidently quite the polar opposite of what you appear to be attracted t
o?
G: There's several things wrong with your reasoning Blythe. First, that happened
approximately twenty years ago. I'm pretty sure my tastes have changed from gir
ly, pink, frilly bows. Second, who said I was attracted to her?
I: There's also something wrong with your reasoning. I happen to be the writer.
So I would know whether or not you like her.
G: Next question. I'm on a strict schedule.
I: Alright. When you first met Kirsten, what was your reaction?
G: Technically I met her around fifteen years ago and she threw her chocolate ic
e cream at me because I decided to take a bite.
I: Right, but what about at the funeral? It is where this story starts off after
all.
G: My first thought was that she looked very much different. More mature, and be
autiful. She looked so sad in her black dress and the pain was obvious in her bl
ue eyes. I felt really bad about her situation. Usually, I wouldn't feel anythin
g when someone is suffering, thanks to... Never mind. But anyways, I also couldn
't help but notice that she had some nice curves and what not.
I: See? You are attracted to her. It's so obvious.
G: Attracted, but not in love.
I: But you soon will be :)
G: That's nice to know.
I: What are some characteristics that you love about Kirsten?
G: She's funny, really intelligent, and she tries so hard to be independent. It'
s actually kind of attractive in any girl.
I: So, you've always stated your heavy dislike for working as a teacher. If you
could be anything or anyone, what would you do?
G: I'd like to be a geneticist. It's so fascinating seeing everything that makes
a person up in just a couple strands of what appears to be nothing. Truly crazy
.
I: Last question. How are you recovering from your previous relationships?
G: Fine. I'm fine, thank you.

I: More details?
G: I'm over Mira, Theresa's out of my mind, the only thing bothering me is the s
hit all those gossip mongers post. Other than that, my past relationships don't
really haunt me anymore like it used to.
I: Used to?
G: Smoked, drank, whored around. The general picture of an immature young man.
I: Alright. Thank you Garrett.
That was Garrett Bianchi. Obviously he doesn't like to give away too much inform
ation so tune in soon for the next chapter!####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Eleven
####################################
VOTE VOTE VOTE!!!!!!
I love you ALL!!!!!
~~Infatuated
********************
Toben stepped away from my hair, his reflection in the mirror shrinking as he ba
cked up, critically examining my hairstyle. He had put it in a very loose bun, c
urling every strand so that the unruly pieces of hair were wisps of curls that f
loated around the nape of my neck and forehead. How he managed to get my stick s
traight hair into a flowy mass of curls was beyond me; but I enjoyed the rare fe
eling of bounciness against my skin.
Rearranging some pieces of hair and adjusting my diamond clip, I finally smacked
his hand away from my hair and muttered, "It's perfect, Mother."
"I'm insulted, Kirsten. After all my hard work you just mortally injure me and t
alk to me in harsh tones? And calling me a mother? Why maybe I shouldn't help yo
u next time."
"I never asked for your help." I grumbled, slowly getting out of the chair. "I d
o know how to apply makeup and curl my own hair."
Toben grinned at me cheekily, pushing down on my shoulders and making me flop ba
ck onto the chair. "That may be true sweetie but look at you! Do you really thin
k you could of done much better? Sure, by negative 2 times!"
I had to agree; I did look nice.
The girl staring back at me was not the image of an impatient girl who swiped on
some mascara and put her hair in a messy bun before hurrying out of the door ev
ery morning. Instead, I was met with an image I nearly never saw. Toben had appl
ied a violet eyeshadow mixed in with tinges of bronze that glittered in the mirr
or's light and a layer of pale foundation and darker bronzer that literally made
me shine. On my neck was a thin gold chain and had a locket hanging from it, an
d on my ears were a set of dangly golden chains that were precariously close to
my chin.
The purple dress that I bought matched my heels and this time I stood up without
pushing me back down into my seat.

"Thank you Toben," I whispered giving him a huge hug. He laughed silently as he
returned it before whispering in my ear, "if only you would show that kind of af
fection when Garrett is around."
My frow furrowed as I released my grip on his shoulders. "I'm not catching on."
Toben rolled his eyes. "To make him jealous. Isn't that what girls like to do?"
A blush crept up my neck. "Um, why would I want to make him jealous?" I asked, t
rying to innocently bite my lip.
"Stop that." Toben replied pointing at my lips. "Even though it's lip stain that
stuff does come off. And to reply to your lame question, stop pretending Kirste
n. Your heels are above your head already."
"Huh?" I asked, this time actually truly confused with Toben's hints.
He sighed. "The term head over heels does come into play silly goose. I can see
the way you look at him. And the way he talks to you."
"Excuse me? Talks to me? That's how he talks to everyone! Jerkishly and annoying
ly."
Toben grinned at me. "You keep on telling yourself that. He's only had that atti
tude around one other girl, Ther- Never mind."
I planted my hands on my hip as he tried to distract me by handing me my jacket
and muttering about how I wouldn't need my pepper spray. "Toben, you are a bad a
ctor. Who did he talk to like that? Mira?"
He looked up at me surprised, whether it be at my angry tone or the fact that I
knew Mira was beyond me.
"How'd you know about Mira?"
"Gossip magazines. Oh and she stole my boyfriend." I muttered breezily, glaring
at him as he sat on my bed.
He looked down at his watch, Rolex probably, before giving what I hoped was a si
gh of surrender. "Okay, fine, Kirsten. We have thirty minutes before you have to
leave. Let me tell you the story." He looked ouver at me. "But, you have to swe
ar on your life that you won't say anything to Garrett, unless you want me to lo
se a life."
"A life?" I asked, lowering myself onto my bed and raising an eyebrow.
"Just trying to be melodramatic. I'm like a cat. Now if you want me to tell the
story, you have to shut up and listen. Without interupting."
"Fine. Just please tell. No secrets. Just the blunt truth."
He glared at me. "You're already breaking it."
"No I'm not." I cried throwing my hands up in the air, quite strange considering
the fact that I was lying on the ground.
"You just did again. Anyways here goes the story. So the Garrett you know now re
ally isn't who he really is. Seriously. As completely unrealistic, shocking, you
may find it, the dude is, or was, totally different. So this story starts proba

bly back when he was a freshman in college, just a few years back. Well we were
both attending UPenn (a.n. a great college in America) and that's where we first
met. Old Garrett was one of those incredibly genuine guys who wasn't afraid to
speak his opinions-"
I snorted but quickly covered my mouth when he glared at me. "He was never a pla
yer, one of those people that took relationships incredibly seriously. He had ne
ver had flings, one night stands, a quickie, you name it. Well then, he met Ther
esa."
Raising my hand, I gave Toben a pleading look and he sighed, gesturing for me to
speak. "Are you literally insinuating that he is a player now?"
He frowned at me. "You know Kirsten, I was just about to get to that part before
you interupted me with your eccentric arm waving, squeaky sounding, wacko combi
nations of craziness."
"Anywho, so Garrett met Teresa, another freshman who caught the attention of our
dear friend. She was one of those quiet shy girls who was always afraid to spea
k and for some reason, Garrett liked that. They dated for probably about three y
ears, yes just as The Bianchi Instititute really hit fame.
"Then, shockingly, Teresa cheated on him. Like not just 'I was drunk so I made o
ut with this random guy' kind of cheating but something way worse. She cheated o
n him with her teacher, a balding 35 year old pedophile who charmed her somehow,
probably brainwashing. Of course no one knew of this so Garrett thought it had
been his fault that she had slept with a disgusting old man."
Toben cleared his voice before continuing. "So Garrett was torn, absolutely crus
hed. There are no words to describe his heartbreak. No way. He got drunk a lot,
slept with random people he didn't know, and experimented with cigarettes. And a
s you realize he never got over that last addiction. He never did anything illeg
al. He had enough morals to not do that. Then, of course, just as Garrett was st
arting to rebound, Teresa confesses and says that she still loved Garrett and on
ly cheated on him because she had been blackmailed, or some shit like that."
"The reason no one heard about this in the news was because Garrett's parents pa
id her and the teacher to keep their lips shut."
Suddenly the memory of the Bianchis' coming into L'amore entered my head. '"Dont
worry. Garrett muttered dryly, looking at me over his menu, "if my parents can'
t convince your boss to talk with us, they can always pay him. It always works.'
Toben was still talking. "After that whole dramatized incident, Toben bounded fr
om one girl to the next. Yes, you could call him a player, playboy, rake..."
I raised my eyebrows at this. Didn't they call players 'rakes' during the Victor
ian era?
"Until he met Mira. Apparently he thought that Mira was his slavation. They had
a so called 'connection' and dated for about a year and a half until recently, w
hen she claimed to be tired of the relationship and just got off her skinny litt
le ass and moved to god damn New York." Toben sounded incredibly angry so I gent
ly touched his left arm, trying to sooth him.
"That's why Garrett seems like a massive jerk. He's still hurting, first from Te
resa, though it may not be her fault completely, then Mira. I tell you Kirsten,
he can't suffer another heartbreak because if it happens, I don't know if he can
survive it."

We were silent, each in our own thoughts until Toben suddenly looked over at me
and whispered in a low tone, "The reason I'm telling you this is because the loo
ks he gives you are the looks that he once gave Teresa and Mira. It's the look o
f a completely vulnerable guy falling in love wiith this gorgeous innocent girl
that doesn't like following instructions and has a bad attitude. However, he doe
sn't know that you like him in return because he can be so dense and blind to lo
ve. That's why Kirsten? If you ruin this for him and you, you're dead."
The seriousness in Toben's voice shocked and scared me.
"The reason I'm so upset that he asked you to this dinner date payback what ever
the hell it is, is because he's being a wimp by not actually getting down on on
e fucking knee and asking you out like a proper guy. He used to be so confident,
not in the arrogant cocky way, that you would just relax. But ever since his ho
rrid relationships, that guy's scared to get rejected. If you don't like him Kir
sten, please don't be a clingy brat and lead him on. I have a feeling that you'r
e definitely the perfect match for him so please make him and everyone around hi
m happy."
"H-how do you know that I would be the perfect match for him? I'm just a regular
girl who is an enrolled student at this school who just happens to be a friends
of these famous people." I managed to whisper, sitting up and staring at Toben
in loss.
Toben gave me a wry smile. "Trust me, I know it when its a perfect match. I'm fu
cking Cupid."
I didn't know if he meant that he was Cupid or the other possible definition whi
ch the f-word was used in context, but I decided not to comment on it.
********************
Garrett's POV (yay!)
At first when I heard Toben talk to Kirsten about my past, I was furious. Standi
ng next to my about-to-be date's slightly ajar door, I could easily hear my bast
ard of a friend's voice tell her the story of Theresa. My heart seemed to squeez
e painfully for a second as he mentioned the whole scandal but then I heard Kirs
ten's soft voice and immediately I felt better.
Frowning at my balck polished shoes, I mulled over the mysterious girl that was
on the other side of the door. Kirsten made me feel things that I had never felt
before, not even with Teresa, a girl who I saw everyday for three years. How st
range was it that she could comfort me, make me forget my twisted life with just
a smile, a touch?
Kirsten just had this way of making me laugh, making me feel emotions. Her sarca
sm and quick yet sharp tongue wanted me to either playfully snap at her or break
out into fits of laughter.
But I didn't deserve a beautiful, intelligent girl like her. I was messed up, ro
tting from the inside out, who used to like smoking, even though I was trying to
quit.
Not to mention that I was too big of a pussy to properly ask her out. Instead, t
his dumbass just had to hide his true feelings by asking out his dream girl on a
date that she 'owed' him. God, how stupid could he possible get?
I sighed in frustration as I paced the hallway outside. Trying not to start cuss
ing under my breath, I tried to calm myself down. Once I started ranting to myse

lf in third person that meant something was wrong. Guys were not suppose to have
these feelings, especially not after having their heart broken by two women.
The one thing Toben had failed to mention was the fact that Teresa had gotten pr
egnant, even before the son of a bitch blackmailed her. I knew it couldn't be my
baby for the birthday of the baby boy didn't match up with when we first had se
x.
There was no possibility that Teresa had stayed faithful to me when we were dati
ng.
No damn possibility.
I heard Toben's voice this time louder breaking me out of my annoying yet tormen
ting thoughts. " so tell me Kirsten, if I wasn't mistaken, I heard you say that
Mira stole your boyfriend in high school?"
I immediately stiffened at the mention of Mira Withers. At first, she had been t
he girl I had been looking for, sweet and kind. Now we were in the falling out s
tage where she didn't give a shit if she cheated on me but only wanted to be on
the cover of People.
"Listen Toben." Kirsten muttered sadly. "It's almost time for me to go. But I pr
omise to tell you the full story once I get the chance to."
Toben muttered something I couldn't hear and a pair of footsteps started making
their way to the door. Quickly, I knocked on it, hoping that the person standing
behind it wouldn't get suspicious.
Kirsten opened the door, surprise written on her beautiful face. I couldn't help
but let my gaze travel down her body, enjoying what I was seeing. She was dress
ed up in a stunning and flattering dress and there was a natural glow about her
that almost made me lose my breathe.
'Damn it.' I thought to myself, rearranging my face and putting up a cool front
as Toben came up behind her. 'Garrett, stop falling for her. She's your student
goddamn it! Plus she doesn't know you like her either!'
I grimaced, my cool facade slipping off for a second. 'And she won't know for a
while.' I thought grimly.
********************
The second I opened the door, the pained expression on Garrett's face made me fe
el horrible and worried at thet same time. There could be no way Garrett had lis
tened to our entire conversation. But the look on him face made me think the opp
osite.
His expression turned from pain the surprise then a blank face in less than a se
cond. He slowly trailed his captivating grey eyes up my body, making my blush an
d feel uncomfortable, in a good way. Then his eyes connected with mine and they
seemed to soften. I could feel myself mentally swoon, and not just from his impe
ccably good looks in a crisp black suit and gold tie that matched my dress perfe
ctly.
"Look, we match." Garrett said softly, a gentle undertone lying in his voice. He
gave me a genuine crooked smile and I took his arm, enjoying the smell of vanil
la.
Toben came behind us, making 'aahh'ing noises causing Garrett to give him his fa

mous glare. Toben cackled at Garrett's facial expression before muttering, "Have
fun you two love birds, eh?"
Garrett snapped back, a little too harsh. "We're not on a date dumbass. Just a f
riendly gathering."
For some reason, sadness fell over me as I looked at the ground, trying to hide
my disappointment at his word choice..
"Whatever you say bro." Toben replied, giving me a sympathetic look.
"Well we're leaving now Toben. Enjoy your night."
"You two too. Haha aren't I just the comedian?" He said, trying to lighten up th
e slightly tense mood.
"Yeah, yeah, we're leaving now Toben. Bye." Garrett muttered, tugging on my hand
.####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Twelve
####################################
Hye guys! Enjoy the chapter! I worked uber hard on this one since I appreciated
all the amazing comments and pleading for me to upload :)
~~Infatuated
********************
Outside for September in Colorado was actually surprisingly warm, not the normal
chilly weather that Coloradians normally had to suffer through. A soft wind ble
w as Garrett opened up the door for me and I slipped in, grateful that the breez
e hadn't flipped my dress over. He came over to the other side once I was situat
ed and hopped in, easily turn on the soft, purring engine.
"Um Garrett?" I asked once we were going down the highway.
"Yeah?" He replied, looking at me for a brief second before focusing back on the
road.
"I hope you do know that people seeing us together will raise suspicion. I mean,
especially if any of your students get the wrong idea."
"Wrong idea?" Garrett's eyebrow quirked as he grinned.
I blushed, not wanting to say the exact words. "You know, that we're, um, well y
ou know, um, dating. It is illegal and you could go to jail."
His grin turned to a small grimace as he turned around a corner in ease. "Don't
worry, if my parents don't convince them otherwise, they can always pay them."
There we go again.
Swallowing nervously, I muttered, "You heard Toben and my conversation, didn't y
ou."
He frowned as we abruptly stopped at a red light. "What conversation? What did I
miss? Don't tell me Toben went on another fashion rant. Those things get so dar
n annoying sometimes."

His tone seemed genuine enough that I relaxed back into the leather seat. "Oh it
was no big deal, just some aimless chit chat. Nothing to worry about."
"To answer your earlier question, we will be going to a restaurant pretty far aw
ay so that you don't have to worry about us getting in trouble. Also, paparazzi
currently think I'm in Italy for a short break so it's not necessary to worry ab
out that either. I am a good planner. Plus, it's not illegal. You're an adult. I
t's technically not but the whole moral thing with the student teacher relations
hip is still rather forbidden."
"Ah, okay."
We fell at a loss for words, though the silence wasn't awkward, just quiet.
Thrity minutes later, we pulled into an empty parking space in front of an expen
sive looking Greek restaurant called Constantine's.
Garrett put out his elbow for me and I took it graciously, teetering in my heels
as we made out way up the wooden steps. The air conditioning blew in my face as
we entered the building and were greeted with two hostesses.
"Do you have reservation tonight sir?" One of them with a daringly low neckline
asked, smiling sweetly up at him. I couldn't help but eyeroll at her comment. Ho
w cliche could that get? Hot hostess flirts with hot guy, while rather plain dat
e waits awkwardly.
Garrett cleared his throat. "Um, yeah, under the name Garry please."
I shot him a surprised look and he just silently shook his head, leading me to a
corner table that was lit with old-fashioned oil lamps and grape colored wicker
candles.
"Enjoy your meal." She muttered in a sticky sweet voice before departing with a
couple of hip sways.
"How pathetic does that get?" Garrett asked, disgust clear in his voice.
I raised my eyebrows at him as I spread out my napkin. "Don't guys just dig the
whole willing sexy female look?"
Garrett gave me a strange look before browsing over his menu. "I don't know what
male company you've been in Kirsten, but the guys I know don't exactly apprecia
te girls that will bend over backwards figuratively, or forwards for that matter
, if you know what I mean. I mean the view can sometimes be rather not, but guys
like their girl a little more conservative. Especially for a guy who looks like
me."
I snorted and rolled my eyes as Garrett gave me a smirk.
"Right," I muttered dryly. "It's not like many guys look as devilishly handsome
as you do."
The second I said that I wanted to take it back.
"Was that suppose to be sarcasm there?"
"Um, yeah, um, couldn't you tell silly?" I said with a nervous smile on my face.
"Yes I could tell.... that you were not being sarcastic.... and that you're curr
ently trying to hide your blush and lie to me."

I gave him a glare. "Jerk."

"Don't even go down the name calling lane." He teased, gently bumping his foot w
ith mine under the table. "For once, I will take your innocent comment back ther
e as a compliment and will try to supress my ego."
Surprised, I looked into Garrett's eyes. Today, unlike many others, he looked ni
ce, kind, more like the old Garrett that Toben had talked about. He appeared mor
e relaxed and mature, acting more like his age. I could feel myself leaning forw
ard, not breaking my eye contact, but then I felt something slightly gooey under
my elbow.
Just then a person cleared his throat from above, saving me from another immenen
t embarressment.
********************
"Hi! My name is Harrison and I will be taking care of y'all tonight. Can I start
you two with something to drink?"
I tried not to grimace as I realized my elbow had now found a new home in a pile
of cold butter. Trying to gingerly remove it, I hastily wiped off the oily mess
on my napkin in my lap before looking up with a sheepish smile, hoping no one h
ad spotted my blundering error.
For some reason, the waiter that was currently smiling down at me looked very fa
miliar but as he began talking about the appetizer specials, I couldn't put my f
inger on where I had seen him before. He had curly brown hair, was around 6' 2",
and had familiar hazel eyes that seemed to strike a chord in my memory.
"Um excuse me miss?" He asked, a pleasant smile on his face. "What would you lik
e to drink tonight?"
I blushed as Garrett looked at me then at the waiter, then back at me, before sc
owling a bit. "Um, I'll just take water, thanks."
The waiter shot me another smile before turning to Garrett and muttering, "I wil
l be right back with your waters. In the meantime, enjoy the bread and choose an
appetizer. The mozerella cheese sticks are actually just fresh out of the oven.
"
As he walked away, I stared openly at his backside, trying to figure out where I
recognized him. The lack of knowledge was starting to irk me.
"So, how are you Kirsten?" Garrett asked pleasantly, cutting the loaf of bread i
nto smaller sections. I shifted a bit uncomfortably in my seat, swiftly hiding t
he small tin of butter to the side, as the waiter disappeared into the back of m
y mind and the thoughts of Garrett's past romances resurfaced. Before answering,
I took the time as he concentrated on cutting the bread to stare at him, trying
to figure out my feelings for him and his possible feelings for me.
From what I felt in my heart was that I was starting to really appreciated the m
an across from me. From his good looks to his kind heart, there seemed to be not
hing wrong with him except for his jealous attitude and horrible fortune with wo
men. And the fact that he could a bossy jerks at moments when he was grumpy.
Who was I kidding? I never imagined that I could have feeling for a person like
Garrett, but ever since the funeral and I first met him, I felt a fairytale spar
k between the two of us, as cheesy as it seems.

Then there was the issue with Garrett and whether or not he liked me in the way
I liked him. At one moment he was gentle and kind with me but at the next he was
the guy that shielded his emotions with sarcastic jokes and lame catch phrases.
On a more technical note, he was my teacher. Though I was of legal age, I didn'
t know if I wanted to have a relationship with a superior leveled guy that may n
ot even share the same feelings.
I groaned, burrowing my head into my hands and thought, "I wish I could crawl in
to a hole and just hiberate."
"That bad, eh?" Garrett asked, looking at me with a raised eyebrow and a small s
mirk.
"What?"
"Are you really not happy to be on this da- dinner with me and would rather hibe
rate in a hole?"
I looked at him with mild horror. "Oh god no, Garrett. I'm just um.. you know...
really tired. Cooking takes a lot out of me."
He didn't look convinced but just then, our waiter reappeared with our water and
a plate of steaming golden mozerella sticks. "On the house for the couple." He
said with a smile, gently placing the hot plate between us. We sat there awkward
ly, neither of us mentioning anything about the fact that we weren't really actu
ally dating until the waiter muttered... "So are you ready to order?"
Garrett looked up at me and I nodded affirmitively. "I'll take the Greek Pasta w
ith extra olives please." I said, handing him the menu which gave me an excuse t
o look closer at his features.
God, somehow he still looked familiar.
Garrett muttered something before the waiter left, and we were left to sitting s
lightly uncomfortably across from each other. After a few seconds of silence, Ga
rrett cleared his throat and muttered, "You look... pretty tonight."
"Thank you." I replied softly, giving him an easy going smile.
"Toben really does know how to use his magic."
I looked at him, "What's that suppose to mean? That I don't look always this pre
tty?" I teased, laughing as he looked at me slightly bewildered.
"Haha, aren't you just the little comedian." He muttered dryly. "All I was sayin
g that he is really good at dolling people up. Anyways," he said with a small sm
irk, "I only chill with attractive people."
I rolled my eyes, feeling a little more comfortable after hearing him sound lik
e his normal cocky self. "So..." I muttered slowly, taking a sip of my water.
He looked up at me. "I was wondering why part of my debt was to go out to dinner
with you. I mean, was there any purpose other than just taking me out to dinner
?"
Twisting my purity ring, I looked up to see him looked at me, surprise written o
n his face as if I had caught him off guard. He looked down at the mozzerella st
icks and took one, a look of sadness and confusion on his handsome face.########
############################

Culinaria L'amore Chapter Thirteen

####################################
Dedicated to the person above because of her amazing comments. Especially this o
ne: hungry= food= cooking= Culinaria L'amore!
New chapter! Please vote and comment!
~~Infatuated
*********************
"Well... there were three reasons, I guess." He hesitated before taking a bite o
f cheese. "First, our moms are really great friends and I guess I just wanted to
get to know you a little better. You know, just figure out what your favorite c
olor is, what annoys you, and why you aren't in college. That sort of thing. I m
ean, we will be living together for the next year and you are my student so it w
ould be beneficial if we could add friends to that list. Second, you seemed like
the kind of girl I li- would like to hang out with."
"Well," I leaned back in my chair, squeezing my lemon slice over my water, "My f
avorite color is purple, I hate it when people act as if they're the most import
ant person in the world, and I'm not incollege because I've never really... you
know, pushed myself for more."
"Why?"
"Why what? I like purple because it's a beautiful color and it matches with my c
omplexion-"
"Kirsten..."
"Okay, fine. I didn't go to college mainly because I thought after high school I
would just be working in my family's restaurant, enjoying the simple lifestyle
I could receive. But after the accident, I realized that not going to college re
ally does make me suffer."
Garrett looked at me under hooded eyes. "I'm not going to tell you sorry because
I bet hundreds of people had already said that. But I do feel for you."
I cleared my throat, a new habit I seemed to develop after being stuck in a coup
le of uncomfortable situations. "Anyways, my turn!" I managed to say with a slig
ht smile. "What your favorite color, what is your favorite food, and what annoys
you?"
He looked at me thoughtfully for a second before replying, "Black, eggrolls, and
I hate it when people pretend to be someone they aren't."
Ten minutes later we were still going at it. "Favorite Disney princess?" I asked
.
"I would normally say Ariel because she wasn't afraid to flaunt her stuff," he w
inked at me, a genuine smile on his face, "But I personally liked Pocahantus bec
ause she was hot too and had a lot of chance for threesomes with those two guys.
" The look on my face must of looked hilarious because he burst and laughing and
muttered, "Kidding! Kidding! The look on your face was priceless. I don't have
a favorite princess. They all look the same to me.
"Big boobs, big caboose, and big lips?"

"Exactly." He grinned. "Except it was hard to tell if Mulan actually had assets.
The guy clothes was a slight turnoff."
I rolled my eyes, a small smile on my lips as I swirled my ice around with my st
raw.
"One order of the Greek Pasta?"
Looking up, the waiter smiled at me again, as if he seemed to recognized me. I a
ccepted the plate, grateful that the dish was filled to the brim with olives, pe
pperoni, olive oil, and pasta. Just the way I liked it.
"This looks delicious." I muttered, shooting him a smile. "Do tell the cook I ap
preciate his cuisine."
I could tell that Garrett was looking at me out of the corner of my eye, and I r
ealized that he was scowling. Again.
"And um, another stick of butter since the busboy must not of set up the table w
ith butter." Was that a teasing tone in his voice? I looked up to find the waite
r's hazel eyes twinkling in my direction before setting down Garrett's plate and
walking away
Once he left, I turned to Garrett and raised an eyebrow as I stabbed my food wit
h vigour. "What has your pantites in a twist?" I asked, trying to politely swall
ow without looking like a person that had been starving themself for days. Right
now, I felt just that way. Plus, the butter on the seat next to me was starting
to make me feel a tad bit uncomfortable
"Oh nothing," Garrett shrugged, "That waiter just looks a bit familiar."
"You too?" I asked surprised. "For some reason, it's as if I've met him before b
ut just don't remember his name."
"That's why you listen when he introduces himself to you. Remember? 'Hi, my name
is Harrison and I will be serving you.' Does that ring a bell in any sense?"
I stiffled a giggle as he impersonated Harrison and at the same time, realized t
hat the name Harrison did ring a bell in my head though I still couldn't remembe
r.
"Oh well," I shrugged, "It doesn't matter."
Twenty minutes later, I finally set down my fork annd leaned back in my chair. "
That was really nice, Garrett. Thank you for bringing me here."
"Anytime." He replied with a small grin.
As if on cue, Harrison came by, removing our plates and asking, "Anything for de
ssert?"
Garrett looked at me. "Kirsten? Do you think you can fit some more in?"
"No, I'm good."
"Well I will just ring up your order and will be back shortly."
"So what was the third reason?" I asked, tossing my napkin onto the table.

"Third reason?"
"Yep, you said that you had three reasons why you brought me out tonight. You to
ld me the first two now what's the third?"
"Oh." He looked at me cautiously before muttering, "I'll tell you later."
Raising my eyebrow at his obvious attempt at avoidance, I didn't say anything un
til Harrison came back with the receipt.
He set down the receipt book infront of Garrett before turning to me and questio
ning, "Not to be a bother or sound really creepy or anything, but are you by cha
nce Kirsten Bellini?"
I looked up surprised at the waiter. "Um, yes, in fact I am."
"Kirsten? How are you doing?"
Not knowing what to answer, I just muttered, "Great!"
His grin dimmed a little as he seemed to realize that I didn't remember him. "Yo
u don't remember me, do you?"
"I'm so so so so sorry, but I don't. You do look familiar I just can't put my fi
nger on it." I muttered apologetically, my face turning red at the embaressment
of being caught.
"Harrison Opel. One year older than you. First seed in the boy's tennis season f
or three consecutive years? Student Council representative while you were vice p
resident?"
I snapped my finger as everything seemed to be put in place. Harrison Opel had b
een one of those guys whom you couldn't help but like. He had been the perfect s
tudent with perfect grades and the perfect girlfriend."Now I remember. You were
the one that fell off the ladder during a dance setup whilst trying to hang up a
balloon chandelier. Do you still have that scar on your elbow when you landed o
n a pair of scissors?"
Harrison blushed and scratched the back of his neck. "Actually yeah. It's one of
my so called 'battle wounds'. From when I got stabbed in the elbow with a fork
by a crazed Spanish matador."
I laughed at his bashfulness, giving him a wide grin. "Well it's great seeing yo
u again Harrison! We have a lot of catching up to do."
"Of course." He muttered cheerfully but then looked confused as he glanced over
at Garrett. "Um, wouldn't your boyfriend mind?"
"I'm not her boyfriend," Garrett retorted a bit sharply, "We're merely friends."
If Harrison's contagious grin could get any bigger, it did. "Well then, you woul
dn't mind giving me your number then?"
Trying not to look over at Garrett, I quickly recited the sevven digits which he
wrote down on a white napkin before bidding Garrett and me a nice night. We qui
ckly put on our jackets before Garrett opened up the front door and were outside
.
Once we got into the car I turned to him and muttered, "So? What's the third rea

son?"
Garrett let out a sigh.
"So you do know about the annual International Culinary Arts Festival, right?" W
hen I nodded my head in affirmation, he swallowed and continued, "well the thing
is that I kind of need an assistant since it is the traditional competition for
mat with the sous chefs and such. And I was wondering... if you'd like the posit
ion."
The world at that moment literally stopped. Was he asking me to become a sous ch
ef for him at the ICAF? First, I was invited to attend the Bianchi Culinary Inst
itute for free; now I had the opportunity to be on TV, cooking for one of the mo
st famous young chefs world wide.
Chuckling at my expression as we sped out of the parking lot, Garret raised and
eyebrow and muttered, "I take that as a look in affirmation of my statement?"
"Hell yes." I managed to whisper. "If you weren't driving, I would hug you. But
since it's too dangero-"
Suddenly, we were at the side of the road, the car humming as he turned to me an
d opened his arms. "Well? I'm waiting."
Blushing, I gingerly wrapped my arms around his neck, enjoying his smell immensl
y as it engulfed the air I breathed.
"And if you want, I can take you to meet Bobby Flay."
I couldn't help myself. Squealing with excitement, I tried to plant a kiss on hi
s cheek.
However, at the last second he moved, and our lips connected.
********************
"We need to talk, Kirsten."
I gulped not willing to look Garrett in the eye. Instead, I stared down at my ha
lf eaten cranberry scone, swirling my cup of coffee in my left hand and trying n
ot to bolt out of the room screaming.
"What's up?" I asked cheerfully.
Garrett glared at me, his car keys jingling in his hand as he leaned forward. In
stictively, I moved back, my back hitting the back of the chair, forcing me to b
reathe in his vanilla scent.
"Funny," he muttered sarcastically, "I didn't know you suffered from memory loss
."
"I don't." I replied innocently, relaxing as he stepped away, brushing a hand th
rough his hair exasperated.
"Alright then. Nothing." He replied softly, "there's nothing we need to talk abo
ut. Nothing at all. I'll meet you in the car."
Looking after him, I felt a hollowness in my chest.
********************

It's been two days, nine hours, thirty six minutes, and a couple seconds.
"Um, Kirsten? The instructions say two cups of rice powder. You're already at tw
o and a third cups."
Amelia's voice was concerned as she peered at me behind her glasses. Somehow, my
hand couldn't stop shaking the flour out into the measuring cup until she reach
ed out and grabbed my wrist, looking up at me with a slight frown on her face.
"For some reason I feel like you're not even in the present world. What's gotten
into you, honey?"
I bit my tongue, not wanting to spill anything. Focusing on pouring the powder b
ack in the bag, I heard Amelia sigh and head to the pantry to get some more suga
r, making me feel even more guilty when she shook her head back and forth.
Groaning, I wiped up the spilled stuff from the counter, still deep in my own th
oughts.
Never in a million years had I expected
tt Bianchi on accident. Never. I, after
k on the cheek but instead he had moved
tact with his soft lips. Whether or not
me.

to receive my
all, had been
his head just
he had turned

very first kiss from Garre

leaning in for a quick pec
in time for me to make con
on purpose was way beyond

At moments like these of indecision, I wished that I could tell Elle everything.
After the accidental kiss, Garrett and I had driven home in complete silence, me
staring out into the blackness and him emotionless; apathetic. There was no way
I could decipher what he was thinking behind those vibrant grey eyes, but whate
ver it was, he sure as hell wasn't expressing them now.
For two days, nine hours, thirty seven minutes, and many seconds, there had been
no words conversed between the two of us except for an 'are you ready?' This mo
rning and a 'is your scab peeling already?' Last period.
That was it. No mention of any date, gathering, whatever the hell you wanted to
call it, and there was definitely no conversation of the physical contact of our
lips.
By the time Amelia returned with a bag of sugar, I was humming along to a song,
a small smile on my face. She smiled at me a bit warily as if she was afraid my
bipolarness would go against her, but we silently followed the directions, until
everything was in the pan and we were sticking it into a heated oven.
"I was wondering Kirsten. Ricky's having a friendly gathering next Friday at the
Barnyard. Do you want to come?"
Amelia looked at me hopefully, a long strand of her ginger hair falling across h
er face as she poured the hot pan of water into another mixture of rice flour an
d sugar.
"Slowly! You have to allow the rice to soak up the water preventing those annoyi
ng lumps of flour to pop up." I muttered, wringing the clothe under a wave of ho
t water. "And yeah, I will go."
She grinned at me, jumping up into the air a little before replying, "Great! I c
an't wait for you to meet Ricky."

The so called Ricky was a twenty eight year old whom Amelia had been dating for
the past one and a half years. According to her closest friends, it seemed as if
they were on the verge of getting married and since I was her newest aquaintanc
e, Amelia wanted me to give her my approval.
"... swing dancing and a lot of food. It'll be a blast."
I nooded in reply, slowly stirring the mixture around before pouring it into a p
an.
'Too bad Garrett wasn't going', I thought gloomily as Amelia started chatting to
another classmate, leaving me to my own devices. Immediately after thinking tha
t, I wanted to slap myself across the face. Hell, ever since the date, he couldn
't stand even being within five feet of me, sometimes even purposely walking out
of a room to avoid making eye contact.
Truthfully, I was slightly relieved at not having to confront him but at the sam
e time frustrated because it was impossible for me to uncover his true feelings
for me. I kept on recalling Toben's words of Garrett afraid of getting rejected,
but by ignoring a girl, the chances become even greater.
Ten minutes passed, and Amelia finally stuck her head into the oven, proudly rem
oving a steaming plate of rice cake, smelling like heaven, and looking delectabl
e enough for any anorexic person to devour in two seconds flat. Turning it in to
the balding substitute, we high fived each other before each cutting a small si
ze and enjoying the taste of Chinese sweets.
After class, I walked with Amelia to where she ate lunch with her friends. Mutte
ring a few greetings, I sat down and enjoyed my sandwich that I had packed mysel
f.
I eavesdropped into the numerous conversations going around me. Some included th
e party while some others were talking about the latest #1 tennis player.#######
#############################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Fourteen
####################################
Enjoy and please vote!
~~Infatuated
********************
"Hey, Kirsten, right?" A short, brunette girl asked, shyly coming up to me with
a small pink slip in her hands. "Mr. Bianchi needs you in his office now."
"Thank you," I replied, turning to Amelia and waving goodbye to her. A small fro
wn etched onto her face as she took a bite of her salami sandwich but I ignored
it as I headed down to Wing A.
My mind was in a whirlwind as I navigated through the deserted halls of the inst
itute. Why did Mr. Bianchi want to see me for? I had rarely spoken to me in the
past few weeks except for the occasional greeting but I had dubbed it as merely
shyness or control.
Stopping in front of a large wooden door then tentatively knocked before I heard
a gruff, "Enter please", I clutched the small slip tighter in my hand before en
tered the large room.
Compared to many offices, this one seemed sterile, with wooden walls, a clutter

free black desk , several rigid leather chairs, and sky high bookcases filled wi
th cookbooks, record books, and thick fancy looking stacks of folders. Instead o
f Mr. Bianchi siting in the tall seat, Garrett was there, tapping lightly on the
desk, flipping through a thick binder.
"Um, did your dad need me?" I asked, slowly closing the door behind me aware of
the distance between us and glad of it.
He frowned at me before closing the folder and setting down his fountain pen. "N
o, I called you here into my office. My dad and I don't go by different names wh
ich is why you're probably confused. Take a seat."
Once I was comfortably situated, Garrett cleared his throat before muttering, "I
need to know if you will be participating with me in the competition. You never
gave me a direct answer after... Anyways, if you are still interested, I need y
ou to take this and read everything carefully and sign where needed.
"Of course I'm still interested." I muttered faintly, slowly taking the binder o
ut of his outreached hands and noticing how he tried to make the least contact w
ith me.
"Good." He replied stiffly. "Then I need these back by tomorrow. We will have to
be practicing and preparing, seeing where your skill levels are but it should b
e very... interesting. That's all I needed you for. You may leave. Go finish you
r lunch"
"Well, thanks." I replied, slowly getting up and walking to the door. Trying to
ignore his commanding tone of voice and the lack of emotion, I muttered, "Have a
good day, Ga- Mr. Bianchi."
********************
"What did he need you for?" Amelia asked as we were walking down the halls, head
ing to her car. Since we had forty five minutes left of lunch, we were heading t
o Starbucks to get a quick drink before we both went to class.
I gulped nervously. "Just some paperwork stuff that I missed apparently. Not tha
t big of a deal."
"Oh."
"By the way, I have your magazine. Thanks for letting me borrow it."
She laughed and gratefully accepted the magazine that I held out. "No problem. D
id you find what you were looking for?"
The blank look on my face prompted her into asking, "Weren't you looking for som
ething on Mr. Bianchi? Or were you merely curious?"
"Merely curious." I muttered, hopping into the cool interior of her car. "I want
ed to get a clear picture of what his abs looked like."
Though I was merely joking, Amelia sighed and muttered, "His eyes are really pre
tty. I'm so envious. If we got married, we could have pretty babies."
"You'll have pretty babies anyways." I said eying her ginger hair that was up in
a loose ponytail today. "You'll be the one to repopulaize the world with ginger
s."
"True." She admitted, making a right turn into the Starbucks parking lot. "Riick

y has Irish blood in him so I'm praying that maybe it'll show up in our childern
."
I raised my eyebrow. "Wow you like to plan ahead, don't you? I can't believe you
two are so close."
She blushed, coloring her pale cheeks with a light pink hue. "Yeah, we really ar
e that close. I'm completely, irrivocably in love with him. He's my everything,
literally. Without Ricky... well I would rather not think about it."
Something in my stomach made me feel like I wanted
companion who loved me for me and whom I could see
who loved me so. Much that he would do everything
. That had been one of my original plans before my
ly appeared as a far away dream.

something that Amelia had. A

having children with. Someone
for me without any hesitation
father passed, but now, it on

"You coming in?" Amelia asked, opening up the door. Shaking myself out of my tho
ughts, I muttered 'Yeah'.
After we both ordered our drinks; mine a caramel frappachino and hers a strawber
ry cream frappachino, we sat down near the window.
"So, tell me about your love life, Kirsten. We've been focusing on mine so much
that we haven't even gotten to your first crush. Do you like anyone right now?
I automatically thought of Garrett, but quickly moved on to think of anyone, any
one other than the sarcastic, sweet guy that I had just gone a date with. I thou
ght of Harrison, the guy I had vaguely remembered from high school and got a lit
tle excited at the thought of getting to know one of my old classmates better.
"Well... I did meet this guy the other day. He's an old classmate of mine from h
igh school and I gave him my number so we could set up a little rendezvous."
"Ooh, old high school romances. I love those things. Did you know that approxxim
ately 50% of high school sweethearts end up married? So romantic. Where did you
meet?"
"Um... well," I dug around in my brain to think of anything without giving aaway
that I had been with Garrett when I met him. "He was working at the restaurant
I went to two nights ago."
Amelia raised an eyebrow. "What were you doing at a restaurant?"
"Uh... eating?"
She gasped dramatically before taking a bite of her cranberry scone. "Don't tell
me you were there alone?"
No, I wasn't... I was with the guy that you wanted to make pretty babies with. "
Yep, I'm a pathetic single woman without a date so I had to go eat alone."
"God, we have got to find you a boyfriend. I hope this high school sweetheart wi
ll ask you out soon. Then we can go on a double date. Wouldn't that be so much f
un?"
"Sure."
She noted my sarcasm and rolled her eyes, grabbing both of our drinks. "Stop bei
ng a party pooper honey. Someday, when spring is here, you'll find your love ane
w. And then the birds will sing and wedding bells will ring. Someday when your p

rince will come..."

"Please stop singing." I muttered as she belted out the tune to Snow White, her
voice slightly cracking as she reached a particularly high note. "You're embare
ssing yourself and me."
"Gosh, live a little."
Punching me gently in the arm, which was quite hard since she was shorter than m
e by a few inches, she looked down at her watch and yelpeed with alarm. "Oh, shi
t, we have five minutes to get back to class."
Crap, if I was late, Garrett would either ignore me or rat me out in front of th
e whole class. "Let's go, hurry."
As we headed out the door at a fast pace, I veered to the right, narrowly avoidi
ng a guy who was walking through the door. "Oh, sorry, my bad."
"Kirsten?"
I looked up to see Harrison looking down at me with a broad smile on his face. "
What's up Harrison?" I asked, stopping to give him a friendly smile back.
"Nothing much. Going to go get a chocolate donut. Where are you going in such a
rush?"
"Class.that starts in five minutes."
"Oh, well you better get going. By the way, I was going to call you tonight, but
since you're here already, do you want to get together on Saturday? Maybe talk
about what's happened since my senior year?"
Mentally going through my calendar, which was definitely blank, I muttered quick
ly, "That sounds great. Call me?"
Harrison smiled down at me, his hopeful yet confident stance reminding me of Jac
kson almost nut in a much less annoying way.
"Sure. Definitely"
"Okay, well... I gotta go. Like right now."
"Of course, I'll talk to you later."
The second I was in the car, Amelia turned to me. "Now who was that hot piece of
meat?"
"Harrison, the so called high school sweetheart."
"Wow you know how to pick them."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, just drive, I don't want to be late."
********************
In the end we were only late by five minutes. But I swore to myself that I would
never sit in the car while Amelia was driving. I was definitelt sure that blood
was currently dripping on her left tire, thanks to her running over a rabbit at
a left turn.

"Hi, sorry I'm late." I called out as I rushed into the classroom.
Instead of Garrett sitting in his desk taking attendance, a bald man sat in his
seat, drolling on about what the class needed to do.
"And who are you young lady?" He asked, peering owlishly over his glasses to loo
k at me, a roster in his left hand.
"Um, Kirsten Bellini, sir." I answered politely, dropping my bag into an empty s
eat.
"Kirsten, you say? I have a pass for you to go to Mr. Bianchi's office. It says
immediately so I would better hurry up."
Two pink slips in one day. Hesitantly I took the piece of paper from his hands b
efore leaving the room in a hurry.
The note stated that I should be in a different office this time so I hurridely
walked through the hallways.
When I knocked and entered five minutes later to a much larger office, Mr. Bianc
hi sat in one of the black chairs, staring intently at a plain manilla folder wi
th Garrett sitting next to him.
Oh god...
"Hello, Ms. Bellini." Mr. Bianchi muttered stiffly, motioning to the seats acros
s his desk. "Please take a seat. How are you faring today?"
I slowly sat down, avoiding Garrett's burning grey gaze, and clearing my throat,
my voice coming out softer than I had wanted. "I'm great today. If you don't mi
nd me asking, um, why exactly did you call me into your office?"
Mr. Bianchi shifted in his seat. "Well Kirsten, there seems to be a little dilem
ma."
*********************
What do you think is going to happen?
Imm awaiting your amazing comments :)
~~ Infatuated
Mr. Bianchi leaned back in his seat, the hinges creaking slightly as he flipped
through a manilla folder. "It appears that there are two very interested buyers
for L'amore. They have been pestering your restaurant for a couple days now and
I'm afraid that once they find out that you are not the contract owner of the re
staurant, they can pull some very dirty tricks."
I felt faint all of a sudden, looking calmly at the two men before me; Mr. Bianc
hi expressionless, and Garrett slighty worried, a small line between his two eye
brows. My heart almost melted at the sight of him a little concerned.
"Are you positive?"

"Well as a man, what's his name, yes, Pierre, as reported, your restaurant may b
e in some big trouble."
Once it sunk in, my eyesight turned blurry and and I felt weak. This was my fath
er's restaurant we were talking about. How could those people be so cruel as to
ignore his recent death and try to snatch what was beloved to him when he was cu
rrently just buried under a pile of dirt?
"Kirsten. Stop it, Kirsten."
Garrett's warm hand touched my hand clutching the mahogany desk, my skin turning
white from my grip.
"What do I do? I can't let anyone steal that restaurant from me. It means the wo
rld to me." I asked in a whisper.
"What I suggest is for you to miss a day of class and head up back to the restau
rant. Sort things out and find a way for people not to figure out what's happeni
ng. I suggest you bring Garrett with you since he did major in business finance
in college. He will be able to help you." Mr. Bianchi's voice did not sound sugg
estful. It sound more commanding, not giving a chance for Garret or me to protes
t his orders.
"Mr. Bianchi, I assure you I can take care of it without the help of your so-" I
tried to explain, hoping that panick wasn't clear in my voice. The thought of G
arrett and me alone at my father's place made me feel like I was being needy and
dependent on other people. Plus, the very thought of that kiss made me want to
squirm in my seat.
"Ms. Bellini, please, I assure you that it will be better for him to assist you.
Do not protest. I think you should leave tomorrow."
"Alright then," I replied softly, "thank you for informing me."
"Again, I am sorry. I do hope you will be able to resolve the issue quickly."
" Have a nice afternoon." I managed to choke out, slowly rising from my seat, th
e leather sticking to my bare legs for a second.
I left silently, feeling Garrett's gaze on me. Before I could take more than a f
ew steps, Garrett's warm hand clasped onto my upperarm, pulling me into a hug. F
or some reason, this shocked me more than the news that had just been delivered.
Garrett smelled like he always did; vanilla and Dove soap. Today, there was a bi
t of cinnamon swirled in with his scent probably the remainder of his previous c
ooking class.

He released me, gripping both my forearms and looking at me with concern. "Liste
n, Kirsten, I'm more than happy to help you out. Please don't be mad at me?"
"I was never mad at you to begin with," I muttered, looking down at his black dr
ess shoes.
I heard his sigh, before he said in a quiet tone, "Alright. Are you okay?" The r
eal concern in his voice caused me to look up into his warm gaze, so different f
rom his previous hard looks. My heart melted a little bit and I managed to give
him a small smile, the warmth of his hands flooding through me.
"I'm doing as well as I can. Um, don't we need to go to class?"
"You go ahead. I took the rest of the afternoon off. I'll see you at dinner?"
"Yeah."
"Alright then." He looked as if he wanted to say something else but before he co
uld, I turned away and headed back done to the classroom.
********************
Worst chapter I have ever written. I'm so sorry guys. I'm not really in rhe mood
to write and I just don't have thhe time to sir down and actually put effort in
to the chapters. I promise you that the next chapter will be at least five pages
. I'm so sorry but I wanted to put something up so all my fans don't desert me.
I love you guys so much for supporting me and I think that the next chapter will
be up within the next week-ish.
Please vote and comment if you can :)####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Fifteen
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Hey guys. I want to shoot myself for not updating much sooner. My writer's block
was very hard to chip through but hopefully I will be uploading every two weeks
or so. It's not as frequent but it will have to do while the tennis season is s
tarting and I won't have time for homework, not to mention writing. But enjoy!
~~Infatuated
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Mr. Bianchi sat back in his seat to gauge my reaction to his previous statement
before continuing.
"It appears that there are two very interested buyers for L'amore. They have bee
n pestering your restaurant for a couple days now and I'm afraid that once they
find out that you are not the contract owner of the restaurant, they can pull so
me very dirty tricks."
I felt faint all of a sudden, looking calmly at the two men before me; Mr. Bianc

hi expressionless, and Garrett slighty worried, a small line between his two eye
brows. My heart almost melted at the sight of him a little concerned.
"Are you positive?"
"Well as a man, what's his name, yes, Pierre, as reported, your restaurant may b
e in some big trouble."
Once it sunk in, my eyesight turned blurry and and I felt weak. This was my fath
er's restaurant we were talking about. How could those people be so cruel as to
ignore his recent death and try to snatch what was beloved to him when he was cu
rrently just buried under a pile of dirt?
"Kirsten. Stop it, Kirsten."
Garrett's warm hand touched my hand clutching the mahogany desk, my skin turning
white from my grip.
"What do I do? I can't let anyone steal that restaurant from me. It means the wo
rld to me." I asked in a whisper.
"What I suggest is for you to miss a day of class and head up back to the restau
rant. Sort things out and find a way for people not to figure out what's happeni
ng. I suggest you bring Garrett with you since he did major in business finance
in college. He will be able to help you." Mr. Bianchi's voice did not sound sugg
estful. It sound more commanding, not giving a chance for Garret or me to protes
t his orders.
"Mr. Bianchi, I assure you I can take care of it without the help of your so-" I
tried to explain, hoping that panick wasn't clear in my voice. The thought of G
arrett and me alone at my father's place made me feel like I was being needy and
dependent on other people. Plus, the very thought of that kiss made me want to
squirm in my seat.
"Ms. Bellini, please, I assure you that it will be better for him to assist you.
Do not protest. I think you should leave tomorrow."
"Alright then," I replied softly, "thank you for informing me."
"Again, I am sorry. I do hope you will be able to resolve the issue quickly."
" Have a nice afternoon." I managed to choke out, slowly rising from my seat, th
e leather sticking to my bare legs for a second.
I left silently, feeling Garrett's gaze on me. Before I could take more than a f
ew steps down the hallway, Garrett's warm hand clasped onto my upperarm, pulling
me into a hug. For some reason, this shocked me more than the news that had jus
t been delivered.
Garrett smelled like he always did; vanilla and Dove soap. Today, there was a bi
t of cinnamon swirled in with his scent probably the remainder of his previous c
ooking class.
He released me, gripping both my forearms and looking at me with concern. "Liste
n, Kirsten, I'm more than happy to help you out. Please don't be mad at me?"
"I was never mad at you to begin with, I just didn't want to talk about what had
happened on Wednsday." I muttered, looking down at his black dress shoes.
I heard his sigh, before he said in a quiet tone, "Alright. Are you okay?" The r

eal concern in his voice caused me to look up into his warm gaze, so different f
rom his previous hard looks. My heart melted a little bit and I managed to give
him a small smile, the warmth of his hands flooding through me.
"I'm doing as well as I can. Um, don't we need to go to class?"
"You go ahead. I took the rest of the afternoon off. I'll see you at dinner?"
"Yeah."
"Alright then." He looked as if he wanted to say something else but before he co
uld, I turned away and headed back done to the classroom.
********************
The sharp smell of cinnamon enveloped me when I opened up the door, stinging my
nose and causing my unshed tears to want to fall even harder. Sniffing, I plaste
red on a small smile as the substitute looked at me over his glasses and muttere
d gruffly, "Class has already began. Please find your partner."
At this particular moment, making food or being late was at the every edge of my
mind. How could it be when my life seemed to be crumbling at every second?
Amelia was waiting for me at our station, the white sleeves of her starched shir
t rolled up to her elbows in an attempt to avoid the red, powdery cinnamon that
was slowly being mixed in with what looked like a mixture of powdered sugar and
water.
"Thank god you're here." Amelia muttered, scowling at her hair that had slipped
out of her bun. "I was starting to think that you had ditched for the rest of th
e day. I may know how to make spring rolls and fancy Indian culinary dishes, but
once it comes to making American Cinnamon rolls, I find myself helpless. By the
way, there was no trouble, right? With you going off to some place? God woman,
i 'm behind you by fifty feet and once I get to the door, I'm partnerless."
"I'm so sorry Amelia for leaving you partnerless. But thank god there was no tro
uble at all." I muttered in a faux cheery voice. "Now let's see about those cinn
amon rolls."
Halfway through class, Garrett walked in, slowly looking across the room and lan
ding his grey gaze on me. Amelia had just gone to find some walnuts in the pantr
y and I was leaning against the heating oven, the warmth feeling nice against my
legs. For a second, I stared back, challenging almost, before I looked down at
my shoes, his gaze making me feel selfconscious.
The substitute was sleeping in the corner of the room, soft snores coming out of
his throat while the other students chattered animatedly, leaving my to feel du
ll and grey. Before I could shake my head in acknowledgement, he frowned at me b
efore grabbing a book off the shelf. Then, with a turn, he walked out, before an
yone else could notice he had ever been in the room.
"Are you okay?" Amelia asked, emerging from the pantry. "You look at the door as
if you wish you could magically teleport into another room."
"It's really nothing, Amelia. Just a bit tired."
Amelia sighed to herself and I could tell that she was done asking me questions
with concerns. Quietly, we worked and finally the cinammon rolls were in the ove
n.

"You are planning on coming to my party though?" Amelia asked as we walked outsi
de, a warm dessert in our hands. I had just finished telling her that I had to '
visit my mom tomorrow' and wouldn't be able to be partners with her for the day.
"Of course I am. Your party next Friday. Tomorrow's Sunday." I replied automatic
ally, watching a grey squirrel scurry across the sidewalk, its movements jerky a
s it tried to find food for the winter.
"And you are going on that date with what's-his-face, right?"
"What's-his-face?"
"Yeah, the piece of eye candy we met at the coffee shop earlier today."
"Yes I am going on our friendly get together. As friends. Plus that's after your
party."
Amelia rolled her eyes in my general direction as she bit into her cinammon roll
. "Whatever you say. There's no need to get so defensive."
As we reached her car, her face lit up all of the sudden. "I was browsing throug
h the bookstore the other day and found this little present for you." She must o
f seen the look on my face but quickly muttered, "Don't worry, I only got it for
you because it reminded me of you. Here take it. I forgot about it during lunch
. But here it is!"
'It' was a long rectangular package wrapped in purple, surprisinly light for suc
h a heavy looking packet. "Thanks Amelia." I muttered with emotion in my voice.
"I owe you one."
"Sure honey. Now go perk up. I have to leave so I will see you on Monday?"
"Alright."
Before I went back inside to retrieve my backpack, I quickly tore open the prese
nt to see what was inside. A box of chocolates in the shape of little bears reve
aled itself but behind it was something that fell onto the ground. The papers sp
layed open to tell me it was a magazine with at least an image of Britney Spears
drunk but I gasped when I saw the cover.
Garrett stared back at me, obviously one of his general photos that the press us
ed when describing him, but in large print were the words, "Garrett Bianchi: New
Woman?" and in a little box in the corner was a picture of me.#################
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Culinaria L'amore Chapter Sixteen
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Guys, I deeply regret not uploading at the time of my last promise. From now on,
I will try incredibly hard to get an upload out by every Sunday night, give or
take.
Yes, this story is still in the Watty's so it would be a nice surprise if you de
voted readers could vote vote vote, and try to pop out a short comment :)
<3 Infatuated
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Technically the photo was a picture of my backside, clearly showing my curly bla

ck haired updo but leaving my face and the rest of my body obscure from the came
ra. Garrett's face, which was facing mine at the time it was taken could be clea
rly seen as he bent over to take a bite of his mozzerella stick.
Thank the heavenly lord that the camera man hadn't been able to clear shot of wh
at I looked like and there was no way my parents, or anyone one that I knew or k
new me for that fact could determine that the girl eating with Garrett had been
me. The initial shock didn't wear off until I traced my figure and quickly flipp
ed open the magazine.
Flipping open the cover page and quickly canning the table of contents, I tried
to flip the silky pages as fast as I could. However, the bitter cold wind starte
d to pick up, the cold breezes nipping my cold fingers and fighting against me,
turning the pages in the opposite direction that I wanted. Finally the air coole
d for a moment and I came to a page displaying the article. The words itself was
minimal, covering only a fourth of the page; however, there was enough for them
to write out my entire name.
Swiping my hair away from my face, I paused and hurridley read through the artic
le.
'On Wednsday, bachelor Garrett Bianchi, heir to the Bianchi Institute franchise
and future billionaire, was spotted with a mysterious woman at a restaurant near
the outskirts of Colorado Springs, Colorado. The new couple was spotted cozy in
side a not revealed restaurant, enjoying dinner. Though our photographers couldn
't get a clear picture of the stunning lady on Bianchi's arm, it was obvious tha
t she's the new lady in the bachelor's life. Dressed in a purple gown, it was ob
vious to see the attraction between the two, staes an insider at the restaurant.
Just last week, we reported the breakup between him and Calvin Klein model Mira
Winters so is this myserious woman here to stay? Now the real question remains;
how long will this one last? Knowing Garrett Bianchi, it's impossible to figure
it out.'
A breathe of air escaped my mouth, swirling into the cold afternoon as I examine
d the rest of the article spread. There were several photos of Garrett posed in
his chef uniform and an image of the Bianchi mansion. But none more of me.
Once I closed the magazine, my relief faded and I wondered if Amelia had specifi
cally gotten it for me because she just wanted to as a friendly gift or if she h
ad realized it was me on the cover.
Before I could dwell on it for too long, I bent down and picked up my carelessly
discarded box of chocolates and threw two of the chocolate bears that had falle
n out of the package into a nearby trashcan. Then I jumped up as a obnoxious car
horn sounded and I turned around to see the limo there, with James beckoning me
to hurry. Giving him a little wave, I rushed into the deserted hallway of the i
nstitute and grabbed my bag, before running back outside and sliding into the co
zy interior that contrasted the bitter Coloradian cold outside.
"Hey, James, how are you today?" I asked, loosening my black scarf a little and
rearranging my windblown hair.
"Fine Ms. Bellinni. I trust you had a lovely day as well?"
'Other than the upsetting news about L'amore and the magazine cover, I'm just pe
achy.' I thought dryly to myself but replied with a simple, "Yep."
"Haven't seen you in a while. I'm surprised you still remembered me since last t
ime I could barely see you over the billowing cigarette smoke courtesy of Mr. Ga
rrett. That boy will kill me someday with his atrocious smoking. But anyhow, Mr.

Garrett will be Mr. Garrett and really nothing can change that."
I didn't know what to reply so I just hurriedly muttered, "Was the limo really n
ecessary to pick me up from the school. Not that I don't appreciate you driving
me all the back. I'm not really used to living in such luxury."
James looked back at me as we headed onto the highway, his bald head flashing in
the light. "Mr. And Mrs. Bianchi took two of the Mercedes because they're going
to some party tonight. Toben, Garrett's friend wants to impress one of his date
s so he snagged the Beamer which left Mr. Garrett's car which I didn't want to t
ake out so I took the limo. Are you not comfortable? There are refreshments in t
he fridge."
"No, no, no," I muttered, "It's just that I'm not used to riding in limos all th
e time."
"Well get used to it." James replied bluntly, "Because you should stay here for
a long time. From what I see, the entire Bianchi family loves you, especially Mr
. Bianchi."
"Which Bianchi?"
James looked up at me and I swore he gave me a sly wink. "Why both of them of co
urse, but Garrett much more. That boy needs a good friend. He has Toben but he n
eeds a really close friend. And you see perfect so stay around Ms. Bellini, alri
ght?"
If I hadn't heard the news of the jeopardization of my father's restaurant, I wo
uld of told James of course. But since my future seemed clouded all I could mana
ge was a wimpy, "I'll try."
*********************
When we arrived, Garrett was waiting at the front door, sleeves up to his elbow,
a spatula in his hand, and a cigarette in between his teeth. Quickly, I shoved
the gossip magazine, hoping he hadn't seen it already, then thanked James, takin
g all of my stuff out from the limo.
From far away, Garrett appeared relaxed, but as I got closer, I could see the te
nsion in his eyes and the weariness.
"Hey." I said, as cheerfully as I could.
"What's up?" He replied, shutting the door behind us as I walked in to the entra
nce. "Since my parents are gone, I gave the chef the night off. What do you want
to eat?"
"Anything's good." I said, dropping my bags near the staircase. "Do you want any
assistance?"
He looked surprised but shrugged his shoulders and nodded, heading to the kitche
n and leaving a trail of smoke behind him.
"Those things will kill you soon." I muttered pointing to the cigarette in his m
outh.
"So I've been told. But I'm stressed out and smoking helps me relieve all the te
nsion. Now do you want to help me or not? I'm going to make spaghetti."
The topic of his smoking was dropped when I went over to the sink and ran my han

ds under the water. The heat felt good on my nipped fingers and soon I found mys
elf chopping tomatoes as Garrett rolled several meatballs in his hands. The sile
nce was actually welcoming until I tried to put the chopped tomatoes in the pan
and Garrett grabbed my hand. His fingers were warm and slightly moist from the r
aw meatballs but they felt good against my skin. Our eyes connected, his dark gr
ey and blue, searching in mine.
Then the comforting moment went away when he removed his fingers and muttered, "
Sorry, I forgot that I had raw meat on my hands. I just wanted to tell you that
the Bianchi recipe doesn't put the tomatoes in yet."
"Oh, okay. No problem." I put down the tray and Garrett wiped my wrist with a cl
ean, white towel.
"Thanks. So what's this Bianchi recipe?"
Garrett finally cracked a smile as he grated some mozzerella onto a plate. "It's
a secret but I'll guarantee you'll love it. Do you mind putting the bread in th
e oven? Thanks."
Thirty minutes later, Garrett sat down with two steaming plates of spaghetti. Se
tting down the dishes, he grabbed the bottle of apple cider from under his arm a
nd poured both a cup.
"Bono Appitito," he muttered before clicking his glass with mine "Enjoy."
I swirled a bit of spaghetti onto my fork before taking a bite, conscious that G
arrett was looking at me. The food I put in my mouth tasted like heaven. Cheese
was melted into the pasta and the tomato sauce tasted fresh with basil and garli
c.
"Jesus," I muttered, "No wonder you're so famous in the cooking world. This is r
eally delectable."
"I'm glad you like it. Maybe I might pass along the recipe to you someday. Maybe
after everything is done like the culinary competition and your restaurant dill
ema is cleared up. Which by the way, what time do you want to leave tomorrow?"
I looked at his muscles on his arms flexing as he grabbed a piece of bread. Toni
ght, he had changed into a blue collar shirt that accented the color in his eyes
with dark washed jeans and loafers.
"Any time's fine, really. After all, you are the one driving. Thanks for that, b
y the way. I'm really grateful that that you can take the time out of the day to
accompany me. Means a lot."
"Welcome. I don't mind really. By the way. How are you doing? Feeling any better
?"
His voice was warm and concerned and I couldn't help but let the sadness wash ov
er me. "It's alright. Just a lot to take in since my father's death. But hopeful
ly everything will turn out alright."
Garrett hesitated before say, "We're alright, though, right? After that kiss las
t Wednsday? You're really okay with that?"
I sighed. "Yes, I'm fine, really. After all, that kiss was just on accident, rig
ht?"
Garrett's eyes turned from a grey blue to a solid dark grey, unreadable. "Yeah.

It was just on accident. I'm sorry."

Suddenly, I couldn't take it anymore; the death, my mother's condition, the lawy
ers, my relationship with Garrett, and the restaurant. Tears flowed down my face
and I didn't bother wiping them away. I felt Garrett grasp my left hand and com
fort me. Patting me on the back. There was no way I could stop the tears from fl
owing. Clutching his shirt, I burrowed my face into his shoulder and inhaled his
familiar vanilla Dove scent.
********************
So when do you think they'll kiss? Comment below and don't forget to vote!######
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Culinaria L'amore Chapter Seventeen
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I hope you enjoy my quick upload lovies because something happens in this chapte
r where you'll either love me... or hate me :) Read to find out and try to drop
a vote in :)
<3 Infatuated
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Bright sunlight stun my eyes when I opened them, letting me get a clear biew of
the trees and the Rockie Mountains in the far off distance. For a second I just
layed there, not sure what woke me up until I heard a light snore next to me, jo
lting me out of my morning daze.
Next to me on the red sofa, Garrett had an arm over his eyes and a hand precario
usly close to mine. Dressed in what he was wearing yesterday, and with his hair
mussed up like that from sleep, he looked almost at peace. Groggily I looked aro
und to see where we were when I realized that it was already nine thirty in the
morning. The clock reminded my fuzzy mind of my room, so gently, I tried to stan
d up and not disturbe Garrett as I was doing so.
However, I nearly screamed when his warm hand latched onto my wrist, the same pl
ace he had held last night before dinner. His grip was strong but it didn't hurt
, yet how desperately I tried to pry his fingers from me, he remained stoic, eve
n in sleep. Finally, he muttered "Please don't go," and released my arm, tossing
himself closer to my body then let out a content sigh. Not knowing if he was ju
st muttering in his sleep or was wide awake just teasing me, I stood over his fo
r a second before slowly scootching away and heading to the bathroom.
My disheveled appearance made me want to groan as I turned on the fuorescent lig
ht; my hair was poofier than normal, I had bags under my eyes, and my makeup had
smeared around my face, giving me what I hoped was merely extra shadows from my
eyeliner. I was wearing what I wore last night except my scarf was missing as w
as my shoes. Garrett must of taken then off when...
Wait? What happened last night?
Leaning on the marble counter, I closed my eyes and tried to recall what had hap
pened. I remembered cooking with him, putting the bread in the oven, and talking
about how delicious his cooking was. Then, Garrett had brought up the topic of
me. And then...
Oh god, I didn't cry last night, did I? Shit. And I may have ruined his shirt fr
om my sob fest too. Double shit.

With a groan, I washed off my make up and tried to comb my hair before walking
ack out where a sleeping Garrett was lying peacefully on the couch, still deep
n slumber. Tiptoing past him, I reached my closet and grabbed a silk bluse and
pair of jeans. Once I finished dressing, he was still asleep, so coming up to
im, I slowly shook his hard shoulder.

b
i
a
h

"Garrett. Get up. Garreettt."

He didn't stir.
Resigned to poking his stomach, I leaned over him taking in his peaceful express
ion.
After he still wouldn't move, I tried the last move under my belt.
Gently sitting on his rock hard abs seemed to do the trick. Just as I positioned
myself, Garrett jolted up, smacking his face right into my chest.
Oh god.
"Sorry, sorry, sorry." I sputtered, awkwardly falling onto the ground as he sat
up, a mischevious smile on his face. I could still feel his face pressed into...
Oh Jesus, someone shoot me now.
"You know, I've been awake since you were shaking my shoulder, you know. If you
were that deserpate to get some action, all you had to do was tell me. I would o
f been happy to oblidge." He cocked an eyebrow at me.
My faced flamed. Ah, the old Garrett was back and worse than ever.
He continued talking. "Not that it didn't feel good or anything. I actually am i
n need of a massage, you know, here." His wicked grin widened when I slapped him
on the chest and muttered, "you're such a pervert."
"Did you carry me up here?" I asked, trying to lead the conversation in the dire
ction Garrett was heading. Gesturing to the couch, I muttered. "I hope you slept
okay."
"Yeah, you started crying then I guess you fell asleep from exhaustion or someth
ing. You kept on clutching my collar so I couldn't leave. But that's okay. You s
leep kind of cute."
I blushed at that statement. He had been watching me sleep? As creeper sounding
it sounded when thinking of another, him watching me sleep was strangely comfort
ing. Garrett continued," I'm just a little sore if you could. Its here," he rubb
ed his neck, "and here," he rubbed his stomach, "and here," he reached to his be
lt buckle but couldn't because I slapped his hand away.
"I'm going to grab myself before you decide to grab your balls." I muttered, scu
rrying away from him. "I think we should try to get there before eleven. Rush ho
ur at L'amore is around twelve so I kind of want to work before it gets too busy
."
I stopped and turned. "I hope that's okay with you."
Garrett gave me a strange look. "Of course it's fine. Do you suffer from short t
erm memory loss? I distinguishly remember me tell you to not worry about it."

"Alright, and I hope I didn't ruin your shirt with my tears."

He waved his hand. "It's no big deal. Only costed five hundred bucks."
I looked at him, stopping in my tracks and trying to gauge whether or not he was
joking. "You're not serious."
"Yep," he replied, unbuttoning the sleeves. "But seriously, I have like a hundre
d pairs."
"Five hundred dollars is the amount of tips I get in a month. God now I feel gui
lty."
"Don't be." He grabbed my wrist. "Consider it as a gift or something."
"A gift? Wow, a ruined blue shirt is really touching Garrett. Thanks for the ama
zing present."
"Oh shut up your sarcasm. Or else I'll make you pay for the shirt if it makes yo
u feel so much better." Now he grabbed my other wrist.
"You're getting prone to do that." I nodded towards his hand gripping my wrist.
"Oh sorry."
There was an awkward silence that followed so I quickly muttered, "So yeah... I'
ll go grab my stuff from my bedroom."
When I came out, I could see Garrett rumaging in a door I hadn't seen before.
"Whatcha doing?" I asked. Getting closer, I realized that he had taken off his b
lue collar shirt from last night and was now wearing nothing on his upper body.
Turning at the sound of my voice, I was too slow to cover my eyes before I got a
clear image of his chest.
True, I had seen pictures of him shirtless before in magazines and... possibly o
nline when I was casually scrolling through Google, not trying to find a picture
of him in his swimsuit... but seeing him in real life, in all his glory, well,
it appears that Ryan Gosling has some pretty strong competition.
"Why'd you slap your hands over your eyes. Never seen a guy shirtless before?"
'Actually, I've seen plenty... pictures.' I fumed inwardly before muttering, "Of
course I have. And you really having nothing to brag about." I pointed to his p
erfect tan six pack. "I'm just surprised that you have a two pack. I thought you
were fat underneath."
"Honey." He replied, "I'm afraid while your in my presence, my hotness has fried
a couple of brain cells. There's six here. In fact, I think I have two more und
erneath my pants in you want to check them out."
I snorted. "Yeah right."
"So you're naturally dumb?"
I rolled my eyes. "How witty. At least that was a smart enough comment for me to
realize that your brains up there," I pointed to his head, "than down there."
"Touche." Garrett raised his hands over his head which only flexed his muscles e
ven more, and I gulped, trying to avert my gaze from his chest. "Aw, was the inn

ocent girl gawking? How cute. You can touch them if you want."
Suddenly, an idea came to mind.
"You know what?" I said, "Maybe I do want to touch them."
Garrett's eyebrows seemed to go up a mile high as I slowly stalked him, trying t
o muffle my smile and giggles. Before he could say anything, I lunged for him an
d started tickling him everywhere. In mere seconds, Garrett was cracking up, try
ing to bat my hands away while attempting to shield himself from me. His skin wa
s warm under mine, and suddenly I felt like the atmosphere had just lightened up
into a more friendly and cozier manner.
After a couple minutes, Garrett finally sat up, still trying to catch his breath
. Suddenly he groaned and fell back onto the floor. With a sigh, I gave him my l
eft hand with the intention of helping him up. But apparently he had other ideas
.
With a jerk, he pulled my arm down, sending me flying on top of his chest. Unsur
e of what he intentions were, that cleared up when his fingers started to tickle
my collar bone.
"Stop it Garrett!" I shrieked, trying to wriggle away frown him. As if he could
tell I was trying to escape, he flipped me own so that he was on top and trapped
me with his left arm while his right continued his minstrations. He moved from
collarbone to my ribcage, the most ticklish part of me before stopping once I sa
id. "Uncle, uncle, I'm so sorry!"
Looking down at me with his grey eyes twinkling in merriment, he asked in a husk
y voice, "What's the magic word Kirsten?"
"Please," I replied, breathless either because I was laughing so hard or because
of our close proximity with one another.
As if Garrett could sense the new tension between us, he came close to me until
our faces were only inches apart. I swore there was something deeper in his eyes
thank just laughter, an emotion that I couldn't distinguish in his grey depths,
and as he leaned closer, I found myself awaiting...
"Um guys, hey, I hate to break up this really cute image of you guys on the verg
e of making out but there's some really good looking scones downstairs and I was
wondering if I could possibly snag one from the kitchen?"
Garrett looked at me startled, before peelinng off of my body and looking at the
intruder that wanted scones. Toben stood there in his familiar black jacket, a
slightly uncomfortable look on his face as he stepped in closer.
"Hey Toben." I muttered quietly, a blush dashing over my face from embarressment
.
"Woah Kirsten. You have sex hair. What have you been up to?"
"I do not have sex hair." I grumbled, getting up from the carpet and running my
fingers through my locks, trying to hide my scarlet cheeks from Garrett and Tobe
n.
"Ooh, how would you know? Did you happen to have sex hair before?"
Toben was just making me feel more embarressed. "No, it's because I didn't have
sex."

He gave me a skeptical look. "Sure looked like you were about, lying on the floo
r like that with a smexilicious guy right on top. Just like a ice cream sundae."
"Excuse me for a moment." I muttered, hating how my Italian skin couldn't hide t
he redness of my face.
As I headed to the bathroom, I heard Garrett tell Toben, "Dude, don't every say
that word in relation to me again."
"What word? Smexilicious? But it's a sexy word. Describes the Kirrett ice cream
sundae perfect."
Oh god.
Entering the bathroom, I splashed some water on my face and swept my hair up int
o a ponytail. Then looking into the mirror, I thought to myself, 'What shit have
you gotten into this time Kirsten?" First I go on a date with him, land on the
cover of a magazine, cry on his shoulder... and now having a tickling fight whil
e he's shirtless?! And better yet, I could swear he was about to kiss me when To
ben mistakenly walked in on us.
When I reentered the main room, Toben and Garrett seemed to be in a deep convers
ation, their heads put together. They saw me standing their and both shut up for
a moment as I asked them, "What are you all talking about?"
"Oh um, how not stylish my leftover clothes are." Toben replied nervously.
I raised an eyebrow. "What are your clothes doing in here?"
"Remember? This was my room before the Kirsten alien invaded."
Indeed I did remember. "Why were you looking through his clothes?" I asked Garre
tt, who looked at me half guiltily and half something else.
"I was too lazy to go to my room. But now it seems like I have to since everythi
ng in here is pink."
Once Garrett had put on a nice formfitting burguny shirt, I cleared my throat an
d muttered, "How bout those scones?"
********************
Garrett was in a bad mood again.
"Goddamnit you stupid car." He muttered under his breath, honking at the 40 mph
traveling car in front of us. Toben sat next to him, still chewing on a scone.
Looking at Garrett, who was occupied, I muttered to Toben, "So how's Goldie doin
g?"
"She's great. Got a splinter in her paw and was a dumbass because she tried to g
et it out with a paperclip. But other than that, she's good."
The car fell back into silence since I really couldn't think of anything else to
say and the car in front had sped up to 50 mph, until i questioned, "Why are yo
u with us?"
"Garrett asked me to come. Didn't you know? I majored in finances at the three y
ears I was in college."

"Oh, well thanks for coming."

"Don't thank me. Thank Garrett. He was the one that asked me. I only came becaus
e there was scones. And because I'm bored."
"Thanks Garrett," I muttered uncomfortably as we pulled up to the restaurant.
My reply was a grunt.####################################
Culiniaria L'amore Chapter Eighteen
####################################
Here's the next chapter! Please click the button to the right! Please!
<3 Infatuated
********************
L'amore had only a couple cars in the parking lot by the time we came to a stop;
Pierre's trademark Cadillac was in the corner, and I recognized a few others...
like Jackon's blue Honda Civic. Immediately a sinking feeling came into my stom
ach and I groaned, "Oh no."
Both Toben and Garrett turned back to see why I had moaned; Toben with a more co
ncerned look and Garrett, a curious one.
"Everything alright, Kirsten?" Garrett asked as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
Not wanting to talk about my woes, I nodded silently and got out of the car.
It was fairly quiet inside the restaurant as we entered; only a couple waiters w
ere walking around and only a few customers were enjoying an early lunch. Keepin
g my head down, in case Jackson was around, I led Toben and Garrett to my office
. Before we could go down the private hallways, we were intercepted by Pierre hi
mself.
His face lit up a bit when he saw me, but the reaction wasn't the same on my par
t. Pierre looked old, really old. His brown hair had turned partially grey, his
apron literally sagged against his thin frame, and his face was a map of wrinkle
s that hadn't been present before.
Pulling me into a hug, he patted my back repeatedly, muttering incoherently in F
rench.
Garrett cleared his throat behind us and muttered in a soft tone, "Garrett Bianc
hi."
Pierre let go of me and slowly accepted Garrett's outstretched hand. "Pierre Stu
cklin, head chef here. It is a please to meet you."
The two men solemnly shook hands before Toben said in his current Australian acc
ent, "Toben, certified financial consultant for ma mate, the lovely Ms. Kirsten
Bellini."
The Frenchman only eyed Toben in suspicion before he turned back to me. "It very
nice to see you again Kirsten. But, you seem to be facing a dilemma. I get call
every day nearly asking me about restaurant. I leave a list on your desk and al
l recent finance documents. Good day."

He left in a hurry, wiping his hands down on his apron, leaving us in the hallwa
y.
"Well he seemed a nice sort of chap." Toben muttered.
"'Chap' is British bro." Garrett replied.
I finally stopped in front of the familiar oak door with the word 'Bellini' engr
aved on its surface, fishing my key out of my purse as the two boys continued a
rguing on whether chap was Australisn or not. They stopped talking when I solemn
ly opened up the door into my office.
The room looked the same as when I had abandoned it a month ago, with the except
ion of a couple new files on my cluttered desk. The bookcase was the same with t
he figurines and treasured cookbooks and my family picture in Cancun was still k
nocked over on the desk surface.
"Nice place you got here." Garrett remarked, flopping onto the red sofa in the c
orner.
"Thank you," I replied, dropping my bag on my desk and situating myself in my de
sk chair. Toben stood behind me. Looking over the various files labeled 'Finance
s' and 'Potentila Buyers', I let out a groan at the thickness of documents.
"Hey hey mate. Don't worry your pretty littl' head over it. Toben's here to help
ya matie!"
"Thanks Toben." I muttered wryly. "I don't know what I would do without you."
After a couple minutes of just flipping through the papers, I gave Garrett the p
otential buyers stack, Toben the finances papers, and tried to comprehend how an
y lawyer could easily snatch the restaurant out of my hands.
"So apparently since there isn't a 'legal' owner of L'amore as of now, this plac
e could file for bankruptcy and a new owner could take place without any charge.
" Toben told me, his Australian accent gone. "But according to my calculations y
ou have earned a couple ten thousands in the last two months, with and without y
our brilliance. Which pretty much rules out the bankruptcy."
"Yeah, but if people find out that one, Kirsten isn't the real owner, and two, t
hat Kirsten isn't around all the time, they can file another lawsuit. Something
about wrongful possesion of property since your father didn't write on paper any
thing of legality." Garrett remarked.
"Guys," I moaned, sipping on my fifth cup of coffee, "I didn't go to college so
nearly everything you're saying isn't making sense."
"Don't worry," Garrett replied, looking over his files, "I don't get a lot of st
uff either. Only lawyer people get this crap."
"Chill dudes," Toben muttered, "You can figure it out. But seriously Kirsten, th
is place is obviously really popular. Your dad did an amazing job of attracting
people because I rarely see establishments such as this restaurant with that big
of an income, unless you get to the big cities, which Colorado Springs is not.
No offense or anything. If you want my advice from a financial point, sell thia
place for a lot." Seeing the disbelief on my face, he quickly said, "But only if
it's your very, very last option. Because this place is a rare gem."
"Hey guys, listen to this." Garrett said from his corner, "This one guy, Jared S

tark, offered to buy this place for 1.3 million dollars. As of now, that's the h
ighest bid in the forty-five offers in here."
My jaw literally dropped. "What are people so desperate for this place? It's a s
mall, humble, family restaurant."
"Like I said," Toben muttered with a shrug, "This place sure is popular. But, th
en again, if there's a new owner, the food will probably change. Which would mak
e it less valuable than as of now. Which doesn't make sense."
"Alright. So where does that lead us to?"
"Well I still have about fifty papers to get through before I can come to any co
herent conclusion." Toben said, stretching.
Looking at my watch, I muttered with a sigh, "I'll go get some food so we won't
waste away in here. I'm starving."
"I'll come with you." Garrett said quickly, dusting off his jeans and placing th
e documents on the small coffee stand."
"I want yummy food!" Toben cried behind us. "The scones didn't fill me up."
We headed down the hallway to the kitchen in a nearly awkward silence, the bustl
ing of servers and cooks sounding in the distance.
"Are you okay?" Garrett asked as we turned a corner.
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" I asked, looking up at his facial profile. He seemed
serene at this moment, not player like, not grump, not sarcastic, just peaceful.
"Well, I'm sure it has to be hard for you when you have to come back to old memo
ries, you know? When my grandmom died, I crashed for about a year. It was truly
the hardest thing for me to go through because she had been my closest family me
mber."
"That sucks." I replied. "I never knew any of my grandparents. They all died bef
ore I could remember anything."
The bustle of the kitchen prevented us from continuing our conversation as waite
rs flew around grabbing dishes and cooks busily chopped and stirred. Steam rose
from several spots and the smell of marinara sauce felt like home.
Going up to one of the chefs, I tapped her shoulder and muttered, "Loosen up on
the basil and add some more tomatoes." She gave me a smile before following my i
nstructions.
"That was impressive." Garrett said. "I didn't notice the difference. I rarely m
eet chefs who can judge by smelling."
"Thanks. It's what I did in here."
"Kirsten! Long time no see!" I turned at the sound of a feminine voice and came
face to face with Caroline, the girl I always teased Jackson about. His 'girlfri
end' looked up at me, carrying a dirty towel in one hand and a tray in the other
.
"Yeah." I replied, trying to sound cheerful.
However, by then, Caroline's attention had transfered. Her baby blue eyes widene

d at the sight of Garrett and she squealed excitedly. "OMG, are you Garrett Bian
chi?"
Garrett looked at me over the top of her head, giving me a grimace before plaste
ring on a smile and muttering, "At your service."
I tuned out Caroline's blabbering, looking around the kitchen in contentment bef
ore turning around at the touch of a finger tapping my shoulder.
"Hey Kirsten. Nice to see you again."
Jackson looked down at me with a friendly smile, but it was easy to see the tens
ion in his brown eyes as I returned his smile.
"Jackson... hi. How are you?"
"I'm fine, thanks."
The awkwardness was so obvious that I wanted to be anywhere than here.
"So, how's the institute treating you?" He asked.
I automatically winced as I thought about the time when Garrett had canceled my
plans with him and had hung up on him using my phone. Then promptly deleting him
off my contacts so I couldn't apologize for his rudeness.
"It's treating me good. "I replied slowly. "About that phone call, I'm really so
rry..."
"No she isn't." Garrett snapped, shrugging out of Caroline's grasp and headin to
where we were standing. "She meant every word."
"That you prehaps said?" Jackson replied dryly.
"Hey, don't hate the messanger, I was only telling the truth you know. She was n
ever attracted to you and is too nice to tell that to you. So I did it for her."
"So you're the jackass." Jackson muttered, dropping his tray on the counter. Beh
ind Garrett, Caroline gasped. "Jackson, that's Garrett Bianchi you're talking to
."
"Funny you use that word, Jack'ass'son." Garrett retorted cheekily, gripping my
arm. I bit back the urge to giggle at Jackson's ridiculous nickname but restrain
ed as I realized how serious both men were acting.
Jackson's face fell when he saw Garrett holding me. "So you go for him instead o
f me?" He asked, his voice getting higher and higher with each word.
"Woah, it's not like that." Garrett and I both muttered at the same time, as Gar
rett's warm hand dropped my arm.
"Sure it isn't." Jackson's voice sounded injured. "It's so obvious you two are a
couple. Good day Ms. Bellini." And with those words, he stalked out of the kitc
hen with Caroline running after him.
"Listen, Kirsten..."
"Leave it alone." I muttered tiredly. "Let's just go get some food."
********************

"You guys didn't get me any food?!" Toben asked, looking bewilderly at the two p
lates.
"No you dumbass," Garrett muttered, setting them down on the table. "Both are fo
r you. Kirsten and I are going out to eat."
I stilled, my hand hovering over my purse. I had
ing when he had insisted on grabbing two plates.
aved his hand at me, "Cool beans. Enjoy whatever
don't be naughty like this morning okay? I don't
tt sundae."

assumed that Garrett wasn't eat

Before I could protest, Toben w
you two are doing outside. But
want to deal with another Kirre

"Kirrett?" I asked.
"Yep, it's the new Kirsten and Garrett flavor."
"Original," I muttered sarcastically," Real original."
"Why thank you."
"Let's go, Kirsten." Garrett said, tugging on my hand. "We'll be back in an hour
or two."
When we got out to Garrett's car, I tore my hand from his grasp.
"Kirsten. Stop it."
"Stop what?" I asked, turning to look at him.
He sighed. "Nothing."
"Where are we going?" I asked as we turned onto the highway.
"My soup kitchen. If that's alright with you."
"Really?" I asked, my mood lifting a bit.
"Yep. Remember the night you had to make strawberry gratina with me? And you sai
d how you wanted it to be a date when we went to the kitchen? Well Kirsten? Woul
d you like to go on a date with me to the soup kitchen?" (a.n. check Ch. 10)
I blushed remembering the night when I had slipped up and asked him if we could
go on a date to the soup kitchen. That had felt like so long ago, even when it w
as just a couple of days ago. When I had still had feelings for him. "Well, it's
a bit too late for me to say no." I muttered dryly.
"Cut the sarcasm out Kirsten. Please?" Garrett muttered, almost tiredly as if he
was drained of energy to deal with my wittiness.
It turned out that Garrett's soup kitchen wasn't far from L'amore as I thought i
t would be, only ten miles on the highway and we were there.
"Ta da," Garrett said, pointing to a brick building. "That's my baby right there
."
The Marian Soup Kitchen was situated between a shady tattoo parlour and a law fi
rm, its tall structure prominent against the landscape. Made with red bricks, Ga
rrett's building looked warm and comforting.

"I like it." I muttered as we crossed the road and entered the building.
Inside, it seemed like hundreds of people were bustling around and the smell of
food drifted from one corner to another. Several workers called out to Garrett,
and he replied to all of them with a genuine smile on his face.
"People seem to like you here." I shouted over the din, as he dragged me to the
kitchen.
In reply, he shouted, "Do you want to help me serve out food to the homeless?"
When I nodded, Garrett's face lit up and he tossed me a blue apron and a pair of
plastic gloves. We got behind the table overflowing with food and began to serv
e things out. I watched Garrett as he put massive spoonfuls of soup to everyone,
children and adults alike, and when the people refused to take such large quant
ities of food, he gave them a charming smile, shoved it into their hands, and ga
ve them a takeout box. I gave everyone a roll, but in comparison to Garrett's lo
ving portions, the bread was small.
After half an hour, less and less people came into the lines. Garrett removed hi
s gloves and aprons and proceeded to chat with some of the homeless, situating h
imself in seats next to theirs and talked with them as if he was best buddies wi
th everyone. I stood behind the tables, watching him in awe until a woman tapped
my hand.
She was one of the poor, dressed in a dirty shawl and with a missing tooth. "He
your boyfriend?" She asked sweetly, pointing to Garrett.
"Oh no, no. We're just... friends."
"Pah. I've been watching you two, you know, and he kept on staring at you girl.
The last girl he brought here, some skinny blonde, orange toothpick, he didn't h
ave that same look on his face than when he stared at you today."
I laughed, more at her reference to Mira as an orange toothpick, than to her sta
tement about Garrett.
"Oh, you young people. Don't laugh, girl. He's in love."
"Mandy! How are you today?" Garrett asked, coming up to us. His face flitted ove
r mine for a second before he focused his attention on her.
"Doing just good, Garrett. Just talking to your purty little girlfriend here."
"Ah, I see." Garrett replied. My eyebrows rose at the fact that he didn't refuse
the 'girlfriend' word like he did earlier with Jackson.
"Well, Kirsten and I have to get going. It was nice seeing you again Mandy."
"What is up with you?" I asked, as we hurried to the closet.
"What do you mean? You didn't like coming here Kirsten? Why didn't you just say
so?" Garrett asked, frowning down at me.
"No," I muttered exasperated,"I loved coming with you. It was amazing here. My p
oint was that... never mind."
"Your point is that I didn't refuse that you were my girlfriend right? But when
I talked to Jackson I did say that you weren't my girlfriend." Garrett's tone wa
s light but he looked down at me with seriousness.

"No, not really..."

"Kirsten, some people, such as you, are bad at lying. I knew that was what you w
ere going to ask."
"Well what's your answer?"
"When I talked to Jackson, I wasn't saying, 'No, she and I don't have anything.'
It was more of a, 'I really like her but I don't know if she likes me kind of t
hing.' Do you comprehend?"
"Wait, repeat that."
"Kirsten."
"Okay, I'm sorry. I just didn't realize that you liked me."
Garrett sighed then engulfed me in a hug. "Listen Kirsten, it's hard not
you okay? But I'm just a dumb bastard who has relationship problems, is
verge of fame, your teacher, and is bad at communicating with girls. I'm
kay? But if this gets into your narrow head, I really like you okay? And
like to go on a date with you again."

to like
on the
sorry o
I would

Before I could reply, his lips descended on mine.

*********************
Vote and comment if you want the next chapter REAL bad!#########################
###########
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Nineteen
####################################
Chapter nineteen already :)
Hope you enjoy this rather shorter chapter! Please vote vote vote :)
Infatuated
********************
His lips were warm on mine, molding almost perfectly on my mouth. I closed my ey
es and let my lips move against him in a smooth motion that made it feel like we
had kissed hundreds of times before. He brushed my hair behind my shoulder, tra
cing my cheek gently as he sucked on my bottom lip. The smell of soap and vanill
a washed over me, making me so dizzy that when I came to conscience, I found mys
elf gripping Garrett's pressed collar. His arms came around my waist and he rais
ed his face, staring at me with dark grey eyes.
"And you don't think that shows love?" Maggie's voice rang in the room as she ho
bbled over to us, a bright smile on her weathered face. "If I had such a handsom
e man kissing me like that, my clothes would be off in a millisecond."
Garrett didn't let go of me as I thought he would; instead the grip on my waist
tightened as the old woman grabbed her coat from the closet.

"Just remember young love birds to... get a room."

I looked at Garrett and his eyes were lit up in humor. My heart warmed more and
I gave him a big hug, burying my head into his collar.
"Kirsten..."
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay with this?"
"With what?"
"With... what just happened."
"You mean how an old lady just told us that if a hot guy made out with her she w
ould start stripping for him?"
"Kirsten. Don't be immature."
Garrett's tone startled me. Instead of sounding happy, his voice was bit sharp,
distant. When he saw my slightly stricken face, his eyes softened and he muttere
d in a low tone, "Sorry. But seriously, did you... mind me kissing you?"
"No," I muttered dryly, "that was the worst kiss ever."
"You do know who you're talking about right?" Garrett's cockiness came back as h
e walked to me, pressing me up against the door. My pulse started to beat faster
and I managed to choke out,
"Just because he thinks he has the credibilitly of being a good kisser, but who
knows. I mea-"
The rest of my words were muffled as Garrett covered his lips over mine to shut
me up.
And then he did it again.
Minutes later when we were washing the pots, Garrett tried to stand as close as
possible next to me, and purposely tried to brush his soapy hand against mine. O
ccasionally he would toy with my hair when no one else was looking -though there
were only two senile men cleaning up the floor- and I couldn't help but open my
heart up to him a little more.

********************
When we got inside of his car, warm despite the late September chilliness outsid
e, I finally got the nerve to ask him a question that had been bothering me for
a while. "So, what's going to happen to us now?"
Garrett's sigh scared me. It sounded resigned and almost guilty. "Do we have to
talk about it now?"
"Yes, yes we do." I replied hotly.
There was an insurmountable amount of pain in his eyes when he looked at me. "I
think we should try to... stay friends."
"Friends." I echoed.
"Yeah. Please don't take it the wrong way okay Kirsten? I was serious when I sai
d that I really liked you. But there's so many things going on. Can you understa
nd? First, I'm still your teacher. People only associate horrible things with te
acher/student relationships like old pedophiles creeping on young girls or brain
wash. I don't want to give you or me a bad reputation. Second, the culinary comp
etition is coming up. It's going to be filmed so that the world can see it. If t
hey see that you and I have a relationship and that I'm your teacher, the papara
zzi would go crazy. It could be bad for your restaurant and your family."
"Is that all?" I aasked wearily.
"Please don't be upset." Garrett's voice was ragged as if he was in real pain. "
If I could ask you out I would. How about we make a deal. Once the culinary comp
etition is over and I get your mom's permission, I'll ask, alright?"
"You sound like you're from one of those old fashioned gentleman. Getting my mot
her's permission? You're such a suckup."
"Anything for the beautiful girl." Garrett replied wistfully. At the next red li
ght, he bent forward and gave me another gentle kiss on the lips.
"And just to clarify Kirsten, you loved the kisses right? Even the one in the ca
r last Wednsday?"
"Of course I did."
Five minutes later we arrived at L'amore. The lunch time rush had gone down and
only a few visitors were still present. Garrett and I snuck in through the back
where Toben was waiting.

"Where did you all go?" Toben asked when we walked through my office door. Sever
al stacks of papers were strewn around his desk and I felt bad for a second unti
l I remembered what had happened that afternoon.
"The soup kitchen." Garrett replied.
I sat down on the black sofa. "How did it go? I'm sorry for leaving you here wit
h all these legal papers and documents."
"I'm done. We can talk about it tonight when we go back. I have quite a few thin
gs to go over with you. Like how your new relationship status has been revealed
to me without you or my best friend telling me all about it."
Garrett and I gaped at him. "How did you know?"
Toben waved his hand in the air. "Dudes, I'm gay. I know certain things. That lo
ok you two just shared when I announced my knowledge is the look of an old marri
ed couple. The way y'all walked in, standing closer together than before was an
obvious sign. Plus, how could I not notice the messed up hair and red lips? It's
so easy to figure it out."
"I thought we were talking about this back at home." I muttered.
"Yeah, we're talking about your restaurant when we get home. But now... spill th
e beans."
Garrett and I looked at each other. During the car ride back to the restaurant,
we had agreed that we would try to keep our new relationship quiet. Did Garrett
want to jeopardize that by telling his best friend?
"Well, it's suppose to be a secret actually." Garrett muttered, sliding on to th
e sofa with me.
Toben's eyebrows rose for a second before he frowned and asked, "Why?"
Garrett sighed, gripping my hand in a comforting manner. "Things. But you just h
ave to really promise not totell anyone. Seriously."
"Alrihgt. But tell me Kirrett. How many times did you snog?"
********************
So sorry it's short. But please still vote!####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Twenty
####################################

Please vote? Please?

<3 Infatuated
********************
"So, Mrs Bianchi, can you imgaine what I thought when this animal came barreling
towards me? Good god, I had heart palpitations for a week after that summer tri
p."
Yivannia smiled at Toben, unaffected by his wild tales or massive hand gestures.
She cut another piece of asparagus and chewed elegantly, swallowing before she
replied to Toben. "It sounds like you were having a marvelous time during the su
mmer."
"Yeah dude, while I was stuck getting my teacher's permit." Garrett interjected.
Automatically I could see Mr. Bianchi stiffen but Garrett only continued cheerf
ully, "Oh well, at least I didn't get heart palpitations while grading papers.
I raised my eyebrows at the lack of sarcasm in Garrett's words. After we had got
ten home from L'amore, he had been in a much more pleasant mood than just two da
ys ago. Gone was the sarcasm and crude comments aimed at him parents. Instead, h
e was nice to everyone.
Toben cleared his throat. "Well anyways, I better get going. Goldi's probably wo
ndering where I've been for the past few hours. Thanks for the dinner Mrs. Bianc
hi."
"She probably didn't even miss you." Garrett replied as, at the same time, I sai
d "Thanks for all your help Toben. Email me the results and stats you got out of
all those documents?"
"She missed me Garrett. I know. And of course Kirsten, I'm sorry I couldn't give
you a full analysis tonight of my findings. Goodnight everyone."
After Toben left, Yivanni visibly relaxed. "That boy is so... talkative." She mu
ttered.
"That's Toben for you." Garrett replied, squeezing my hand under the table.
"Why are you so happy today, Garrett?" Mr. Bianchi questioned over the top of hi
s recipe book. "Did something... exciting occur at the restaurant today?"
"Erm, no." Garrett replied uncomfortably, "I'm usually this happy aren't I?"
Both of Garrett's parents just stared at him.
"Alright then." Yivanni said, standing up, giving Garrett a curious look before
smoothing down her burguny dress, the same color as his shirt. "Is anyone up for
dessert?"
"No thanks, dear." Mr. Bianchi replied, "my class this afternoon made a French d
elicacy, Joconde sponge cake. I barely had room for the pasta tonight."
"You made Joconde?" I asked, leaning forward over my plate.
"Why yes. Although my most difficult delicacies to make, my students did very we
ll."

"The soup kitchen will be very happy then." I replied, giving Garrett a smile. H
e smile back before looking down at his plate.
"So that is where you went. That's my boy's pride and joy right there. Fattening
up Colorado Springs. I'll be
sure to box them up for you Garrett." Mr. Biachi's tone was cool almost distant,
not loving as he was supposed to be.
"Well," Garrett muttered, "If you can excuse us, Kirsten and I need to practice
for the culinary contest."
"Very well. Goodnight." Mr. Bianchi said, returning to his book.
When we escaped to the kitchen, Garrett turned to me and said, "My father isn't
the fondest of the soup kitchen."
"Why not?" I asked with a frown.
"He wanted it named after him but when I named it after my grandma? He's kind of
resentful that he didn't geet one more building named after him."
"I'm sorry." I said, looking up at his tense face. "I'll be sure not to mention
it again."
"Alright. But now we seriously have to get working. My partner chef will be here
tomorrow and I want to make sure we are prepared as much as we can be."
He pulled out a massive stack of papers from a shelf and situated himself on a b
lack stool. Pushing aside a basket of green apples, he patted the seat next to h
im.
In the next hour, we poured over every sheet of paper, looking at the rules, pas
t winners, and possible courses.
Apparently, the whole process had been changed this year. Contestants were suppo
sed to prepare three randomly chosen courses like before, but this year a drink
would be added to each and a common theme was to be in every creation. Since thi
s was a three day competition, we would be creating nine courses and drinks with
only one theme. That was as hard as it got.
"Last year, they had appetizer, main, and dessert." Garrett said, running a hand
through his ruly hair, "But they're notorious for mixing it up and having us cr
eate a breakfast entree, dessert, and an appetizer. We never know what to expect
."
I touched Garrett's shoulder realizing that he was tense everywhere. Though I wa
nted to admire his muscles, I asked him," Why are you so tensed up?"
Garrett sighed, "It's my first time doing this specific competition. Since it's
such a big deal fro my dad, if I don't win, he won't exactly be very happy."
"Why is this one so special to him?"
"Because he won this same competition when he was twenty three. He wants me to l
ive up to his standards. His favorite quote is 'Like father, like son'. No joke.
At least he likes to think all of my accomplishments are because of him."
"That sucks," I replied. "But stop stressing out. This'll be amazing, really. H
ow about we make some dishes now to practice?"

"Alright." He replied. "I don't know what I would do without you, Kirsten."
"You'd still be as sarcastic as ever with bipolar issues." I replied cheekily, g
rabbing a cookbook and heading to the oven. "Come on Garrett, we have to get coo
king.
********************
"Stick this in the oven and go chop up the strawberries." Garrett ordered me as
he mixed one bowl in one hand and chopped some vegetables in the next.
Opening the oven, I glanced at the clock and groaned.
"Jesus Christ." I grumbled, slamming the oven closed.
"What?" Garrett asked, not looking up from his minstrations.
"It's 12:45, in the morning Garret. 12:45."
"So?"
"We have school tomorrow," I replied, cutting off the tops of the strawberries w
ith sleepy and shaking hands.
I heard Garrett sigh, before coming over to me and hugging me, placing his chin
over my head. "Yore an angel for dealing with me. Let's stop for today, okay?"
"No, no, I can keep on going for another... okay, let's finish."
"I can clean up while you head up."
"Alright. But Garrett?"
"Yeah?"
"I want to know something."
"Go ahead and ask."
"What happened between you and Mira?"
Automatically, Garrett's face seemed to shut off and he stiffened, his arms flex
ing a bit as he considered answering my question..
"Never mind Garrett. I see you don't want to talk about it-"
"No, it's alright. But if you want to here the full story, you may want to be up
for another half hour."
I sat down and Garrett sat down next to me, wiping his hands on a blue towel and
setting it down next to his seat.
"I heard what you and Toben talked about on Wednsday."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry for lying about not hearing your conversation but it was just k
ind of awkward you know? We were on a date thingy and I didn't want to mess it u
p by talking about exes and such."

"I'm sorry for asking. I know it's personal."

Garrett sighed then clutched my hand, his still wet from the water. "It's good f
or people to talk about their issues."
He smiled
ed out of
attracted
ore about

wryly at me. "There's some stuff Toben didn't tell you. Before I dropp
UPenn, I met Theresa, as you know. We hit it off and I was definitely
to her because she seemed secretive, shy, you know? I wanted to know m
her.

"We started dating after the first week of school and then she found out she was
pregnant."
"Was... was it yours?" I asked, looking at his grey eyes wanting to know the com
plete truth from him.
"No." Garrett's tone was sharper. "She was four weeks pregnant pregnant after we
had been dating for four months. We didn't have sex until the fifth month."
I gulped nervously. Would he expect that from me?
Garrett seemed to read my mind. "Stop worrying, Kirsten. I was a hormone filled
teenager."
"Anyways, after I found out she was pregnant, I broke it off. She blamed me for
not supporting her and her baby. But how could I? She cheated on me. For some ti
me, I thought it was mine, but when she had him, he was black, Kirsten. Black. I
'm white. Theresa was Mexican, not a drop of pure African blood in her eitherI l
ike African Americans but when I saw the baby, my hatred grew by three times. Sh
e had led me on for a while after I found out."
"After that, I started sleeping around. I know it's a bad reaction but I made su
re that I always used protection. Then around six months ago, I met Mira at a co
ffee shop. She was a lot different from Theresa. She had a big mouth, sassy atti
tude... she was my savior from my drinking, smoking, sleeping around. Then, she
got her job with Calvin Klein. She finally confessed that she had used me to get
famous."
"That sounds like Mira." I muttered dryly.
"What? You knew her?"
"I thought you eavesdropped on us? I told Toben I knew her yes."
"How?" He hesistated for a second. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want
to."
"No, no, it's okay. You told me your story. She stole my boyfriend."
"Stole?"
"Yeah, she promised him she'd have sex with him if he broke it off with me. We h
ad dated for two years until that happened Senior year. Definitely not as dramat
ic as your story, but it struck me pretty hard."
"Well, that's who she is I guess, a complete bitch." Garrett muttered, massaging
my hand.
I glanced at the clock. "Alright, well I have to go to bed. It's getting late an
d I need to sleep."

"Alright. Good night Kirsten."

"Night." I whispered.
Garrett hesistated before letting go of my hand. Then he grasped a strand of my
hair and ran it through his fingers. Looking behind me, he leaned closer.
The kiss started of gentle, him massaging my bottom lip with his. Then, I clutch
ed the back of his neck and pushed closer into him, the only thing between us be
ing the basket. Gasping for breath, Garrett smiled at me, a twinkle in his eyes.
"Sweet dreams."
********************
Sorry for the filler chapter :(####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Twenty-One
####################################
School on Monday was nothing out of the ordinary. Amelia reminded me about the u
pcoming party and Mr. Whittson scolded me when I added the wrong kind of dried s
hrimp into the mixture of lamp and green onions. By the time Garrett's class was
wrapping up, I was nearing absolute exhaustion.
"So do you want to hang out with us today? We're going to go get frozen yogurt."
Amelia said, clutching her books closer to her chest as the wind messed up her
curly red updo.
I sighed at looked at my watch. The golden hands seemed to blur together and nei
ther one looked longer than the other. Garrett had asked me to catch a ride from
him at around seven and that was half an hour away, but I didn't want Amelia dr
iving me back to the institute and wondering why there was a limo waiting for me
..
"I think I'll skip tonight." I muttered breezily. "Got some plans already. But t
hanks for the offer."
"Plans? With lover-boy?" Amelia asked casting me a mischevious look.
For a second I looked at her and panicked. Then I realized that she had been ref
ering to Harrison, not Garrett.
"Harrison, you mean? No, I'm not chilling with him. Just because we're suppose
to get together Saturday-"
"What do you mean supposed to?" Amelia cut me off, giving me a bewildered look.
"You're not ditching him are you? He's one hot piece of meat that you should mos
t definitely not pass up."
Inside, it felt that going on a casual outing with Harrison was like betraying G
arrett. "No, no, I'm still going. It was just a reference to the fact that yes w
e're hanging out Saturday, but that doesn't mean today.
"Alright. Just double checking hun. Well I got to scat, everyone wants yogurt an
d apparently I'm paying."
I bid my farewells to Amelia before reentering the East Wing, and heading to Gar
rett's classroom where I had been minutes before.

"Hey. What's up?" I asked, entering the vanilla scented classroom to find Garret
t scribbling away at a piece of paper.
"Nothing much. What's up with you?"
"Just waiting for you to finish so we can finally meet your partner chef." An aw
kward silence followed as neither of us knew what to do. After last night's conf
essions and yesterday's kisses, it seemed like neither of us knew how to proceed
.
"Come here." Garrett finally said, breaking the tense quietness. He looked at me
with blue green eyes, a sign that meant he wasn't irritated but relaxed.
I obeyed and walked to his desk, situating myself on a clean part of the surface
. Garrett looked behind me to make sure the door was closed before pulling me in
to his warm embrace.
I breathed in his vanilla soap scent, enjoying the comfort his strong arms broug
ht me. Though he was wearing a slightly scratchy wool sweater, I could still fee
l his hard muscles under the material, and I buried my face into his neck.
"Now I feel better." Garrett muttered after we had finished hugging. He got up a
nd stretched before continuing. "Wanna head out now? Alonzo's probably pulling o
ut his hair by now if I truly know him."
********************
When we got back to the mansion, a bright, fire engine red Corvette was parked s
loppily in the driveway, slanted so much that Garrett couldn't get past. Hearing
him cuss, we got out of the car and into the house where Yivanni was reading a
magazine.
"Thank God you're home Garrett. That man is driving me crazy. He is much worse t
han your friend Toben, much worse."
Garrett and I gave each other a bemused look. If this Alonzo was worse than Tobe
n in Yivanni's opinion, he must be a keeper.
The kitchen was empty when we entered, the only sign that someone had been here
recently being the pot of boiling water that kept on splashing onto the stovetop
. For a second we just stood there until a massive crash resonated in the room.
Garrett walked to the pantry where the sound of pans falling came from, hesistat
ing a second before swinging the door open. An Italian man dressed in solid whit
e with coiffed, slicked back brown hair and a blonde woman nearly fell out, each
of their moans stopping midway.
It was obvious what they had been doing in the pantry. The woman's hair was mess
ed up and half the buttons on her shirt were open, revealing a lacy red bra. The
man was in a similar condition with red lipstick all over his face and neck and
his clothes wrinkled. Both were panting.
I looked at Garrett and he seemed just as shocked at the spectacle before him.
"Oh Jesus. My name is Alonzo. And who may be you?" He asked sticking out a hand
and waiting for me to reply.
Instead, all I could manage was, "You have lipstick on your hand."
Garrett started laughing as the Italian guy blushed and tried to wipe it off on

his pants and the woman busily rebuttoned her shirt. "It looks like you've been
busy, Alonzo, my man. Thanks for um... boiling the water. Now I have a messy cou
nter and the urge never to enter this pantry again. Look, one of the pans squish
ed a tomato."
Alonzo looked wounded, standing up and offering the blonde woman a hand. "I Alon
zo Miguel Vilastro did not put the water on the pan. This woman distracted me."
His partner, swatted him on the arm. "Ask who distracted who by grabbing their b
oobs."
Garrett laughed again. "I already know the answer Angela."
Alonzo now looked offended, bring Angela closer to him. "I did not know that you
, Garrett Robert Bianchi, would choose bros before hoes. You are disgraceful."
By now, I had shied closer to Garrett, nearly touching him.
He seemed to notice my discomfort and pulled me into his arms. "Angela, Alonzo,
this is Kirsten. She is will be my sous chef for the competition."
Angela gave me a winning smile, tossing her bonde hair behind her back. "It's ve
ry nice to meet you, Kirsten."
I reciprocated the smile. She seemed like a nice enough girl if not a bit too wi
lling to get down and dirty."
"I am Alonzo the Great." Alonzo announced himself. "I will be the one that blows
the competition out of da water. That competition, it is a piece of chocolate c
ake."
"What he really means is that I chose him because he was my friend and that he c
aves under pressure because he gets so nervous that he wants to pee his pants."
Garrettt muttered.
"Shut up, Garrett."
"Speaking of chocolate cake..." I muttered, "What is that burning smell that sme
lls like dark chocolate?"
After ten minutes of cussing, Alonzo finally managed to extract the slightly bur
nt cake from the oven. "I made the cake for you two as a surprise but that didn'
t turn out so well because someone wanted to have sex." Alonzo muttered as he de
jectedly poked the cake.
"It doesn't look too bad. It's just darker at the edges and bottom still complet
ely edible." I said, grabbing a bread knife.
Before I could make a single cut, Alonzo snatched the cake from under my hand a
nd threw the entire thing in a nearby trashcan.
"Trash! This is trash. Throw it away!"
"What did you just do?" I asked. "I was going to take a slice."
"Once you get to know Alonzo well enough, you will realize that those words are
his favorite ever." Angela muttered, taking a seat next to me.
"I wonder why I haven't thrown you away yet." Alonzo said, aiming his glare at A
ngela. She merely laughed before muttering, "You would dive in after me because

you've never met another girl that can give you just as good of a blowie."
"Okay guys, we have to get working." Garrett muttered from the stove. He had an
irritated look on his face but I could tell that he was trying to mask a smile.
In the next two hours it was easy to see that yes, Alonzo liked throwing away th
ings and that the competition was going to get a lot more interesting with the c
oocky couple.
"Let's get moving." Alonzo huffed, walking past me as he tried to carry a carton
of eggs and six potatoes in his arms.
"You don't have to yell." Angela yelled from the next stove over as she pouted a
t him. It was easy to see that she had a bit of experience in the competition ar
ea but got distracted every time Alonzo would pat her butt or ordered her around
.
"He's such an arrogant bastard," Angela whispered to me, whisking her eggs and f
lour lazily in one hand. "He is a wonderful chef I must admit but he's so cocky.
"
"Angela, am I talking to a wall or something?" Alonzo bellowed, his tan face tur
ning a dark shade of red.
"And when he's nervous or upset, he resembles a lobster." She muttered, whisking
the yellow eggs a little faster. "Flustered already."
Alonzo wiped his tan forehead with a towel, a few pieces of curly brown hair fal
ling into his face in the process. He snatched Angela's bowl, stirring it once b
efore dumping the contents in the trash. "Trash! Angela I swear if you don't sta
rt working," he grinned confidently at the blond, "I swear I'll-"
"You'll what?" Angela challenged, her brown eyes defiant yet playful.
"I'll throw you out of this kitchen." Alonzo threatened.
Angela only shrugged casting him a confident yet sly look. "Don't worry. I prefe
r you in the bedroom."
"Time!" Garrett yelled, coming over to our little group to inspect what we had m
anaged to complete. When he saw the gooey batter in the trashcan and the lustful
looks Angela and Alonzo were giving each other, he groaned and muttered, "Get a
room... and not the pantry please."
After two more attepts and some more heated arguments, our little group finally
finished all the dishes.
"Guys," Garrett muttered warily, "we have to be much quicker next time. The time
limit's five hours. Not a year."
Algela and Alonzo looked at each other and simultaniously, the each said, "It's
not my fault."
I rolled my eyes. For two 29 year olds, they were definitely immature.
"Alright, well either way, don't disappoint me, okay?" Garrett's tone was sharpe
r than normal, edged with weariness.
Both nodded their heads in agreement, guilt written over their faces.

Only I seemed to realize that Garrett's was really trying to say, "Don't disappo
int my dad."
********************
Another filler chapter??!! I'm so sorry my fans. I really tried seriously. But h
ow do you like Alonzo and Angela? I have a lot planned for those two. A lot. Any
who, congrats to SofaKingHaley for coming up with the original idea for those tw
o :)
Vote! Please!
And one more thing: if you entered my competition look out for minor characters
floating in here later on because I may have chosen yours!
<3 Infatuated####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Twenty-Two
####################################
Hey guys!
First, would you all like a CL one shot contest, I thought it would be fun but r
eader input would be really nice. Two, my new story Loveland is up and it would
nbe great if you could check it out. It's a lot like Culinaria L'amore with the
amount of romance so please go read it!
Vote and comment please :)
<3 Infatuated
********************
Garrett pulled me aside as Alonzo and Angela left for the night, leaving a trail
of moaning and giggling behind them.
"So, we don't have school tomorrow since it's a staff work day so I was wonderin
g if you wanted to go out and enjoy the bitter cold Colorado wilderness?"
"Sure," I replied, hoping that I didn't sound too eager to get away from school
and with Garrett.
He smiled at me, pulling me into another hug. "Alright, it's a date then, just r
emember to wear warm clothes. It's staring to get really chilly. I wouldn't wan
t you to get sick."
If my heart wasn't completely melted before, I was pretty sure it was now.
Tuesday morning brought cold winds but a big sun, making it look as if it was wa
rm when it was really actually freezing thanks to the windchill. Garrett and I l
eft the mansion at nine in the morning, both bundled up to the max.
"You would think after living in Colorado for your whole life that you'd remembe

r gloves." I muttered as I stuck my hands against the heater.

Garrett laughed as we headed down the road. "I think it's just you that would fo
rget to bring them. Here, take mine."
I blushed and hurridly pushed Garrettt's gloves back at him. "Don't worry about
it. I just hope where we're going is really warm. Which by the way, where are we
going?"
He smiled then pursed his lips and lifted a finger to touch them. "It's a secret
Kirsten. Be patient."
We finally stopped in downtown Denver, parking in front of a warm looking paster
y shoped named 'La Baguette'.
Inside, we each grabbed a butter croissant and a cup of coffee for me and tea fo
r him.
"This is a nice surprise," I managed to say after taking a huge bite out of my w
arm croissant, trying to chew with my mouth closed.
Garrett smiled over his cup of earl grey tea. "This isn't even part of the surpr
ise you idiot. I just thought you might like some warm breakfast before we actua
lly go have some actual fun."
Oh god. More surprises than a warm bakery shop. What else could he do?
After we finished our breakfast, Garrett drove for half an hour before parking i
n front of a large, grey building.
"Close your eyes." Garrett muttered. "And wait until I get back. What size shoe
do you normally wear?"
"7 1/2" I muttered, before he slammed the car door shop and went wherever he was
supposed to. After fidgeting for a couple minutes, I heard his feet crunch over
the ice and snow, and he reopened the door, letting a gust of cold air come in.
"Let's go Kirsten." He said, pushing me inside the building. "You can open them
now."
"Ice skating?" I asked looking at the ice rink.
"Yep, come on now unless you want me to beat you in the number of laps around th
e rink."

"Oh, you're on buster." I muttered, grabbing my skates and hurrying after him. I
ce skating had been a long pastime favorite when my father and I would come here
and he would teach me how to do triple toe axles without falling. I wondered ho
w Garrett had figured this out because I had never once told him how much ice sk
ating meant to me.
At first, the rink was cold, making me shiver a bit, but after skating a lap, I
started to warm up and pick up speed. Garrett easily kept pace, even on the outs
ide of me.
"You're good at this." I shouted over the sound of the speakerphones.
He grinned, picking up the pace and passing a little kid clinging to the wall. "
I was a hockey player for a while. I can skate but once you ask me to do any fan
cy flips or jumps, I'm lost. However, your mom once told me how good you were at
ice skating, so Ms. Bellini, show me the fancy tricks."
My mom had talked to Garrett about my ice skating? "When did my mom tell you abo
ut skating?" I asked as we turned a corner.
"It was a while ago. At the party that one night."
He had remembered that?
I smiled back at Garrett who was clearly waiting for me to do some fancy tricks.
Making sure that not many people were around me, I sped up, balancing on my rig
ht foot before jumping into the air and spinning around. Landing perfectly on my
bent left leg, my smile grew as I realized that I had done a triple toe, one of
the harder jumps.
"Jesus." Garrett muttered, coming to a stop next to me. "That was amazing Kirste
n. I probably couldn't do that in a million years."
"Thanks," I said, trying to catch my breath. "I didn't realize I could still do
that."
"Jesus Christ, you're perfect." Garrett muttered randomly. "Much more perfect th
an Theresa or Mira."
"That was random." I teased gently, not knowing what else to say or do.
"Seriously Kirsten. If I wasn't famous or your teacher, I'd ask you out in a mil
lisecond. But it's so hard. I don't want you to feel as if you're obligated to s
tay with me. I'm such a screw up person, there's a lot more guys that deserve yo
u more than me."
"That means a lot." I whispered softly, trying to hold in a couple tears. He pro

bably couldn't hear me over the speakers but he saw the tears running down my ch
eeks.
"God, Kirsten, did I make you cry?"
I wanted to comfort Garrett. He looked so sad, so desperate that I just wanted t
o give him a big hug. Taking his warm hand in my freezing one, I pulled him slow
ly along the edge of the ice rink as people passed us by.
"It's okay." I muttered softly, squeezing his hand. "Everything will end up the
way God wants it to end up."
He looked at me, surprise in his face. "You believe in God?"
I shrugged. "How else will I believe that we were meant to be together if I didn
't know that God wants us to end up with each other in the end? Have a little fa
ith Garrett."
His face turned thoughtful as he traced my palm with his fingers. "I don't know
Kirsten, I just really don't know. How can He have a plan for us yet his plan se
ems so flawed? There's so many variables that stop us from being together."
"Maybe it's not time yet, Garrett. You'll see."
After Garrett's moment of truth, vulnerability, and questioning, we circled the
rink a couple more times with our hands clasped together before taking off our s
kates and heading to our next designation.
"Where are we going now?" I asked, blowing all over my numb fingers.
"The Mona Lisa." Garrett stated nonchalantly, absently rubbing one of my hands w
ith his thumb.
My jaw dropped. The Mona Lisa was probably one of the most expensive restaurants
I had ever heard of. A fondue place where mainly old couples went to dump their
entire retirement saving, it was an elegant place to enjoy chocolate and cheese
fondue.
"But that's incredibly expensive Garrett. Why don't we just go to McDonald's or
something?"
"I insist." Garrett muttered stubbornly as we turned on to another road. "You de
serve it."
I hadn't done anything to deserve such kind treatment but after arguing with him
for another couple minutes, I finally sat back and let him take me to the Mona

Lisa.
Inside was crowded with a bunch of people wearing formal wear like dresses and t
uxs, making me feel awkward in my red sweater and jeans. Garrett, always the coo
l and collected one, led me to our seats, while waving to several people.
"Have you been here before?" I asked him as we sat down at the corner table. "Yo
u seem to know a lot of people here."
"My parent like eating here on their anniversaries. When I say anniversaries I m
ean every half year. Everyone knows us because we're probably their most frequen
t customers ever."
Before I could say anything in reply, a waitress sautered up to us. "Would you
like the usual Mr. Bianchi?"
Garrett didn't even blink at her attempt with flirting with him. "Actually could
we just get a cheese and chocolate fondue with bread and strawberries? I think
that should be enough. Don't you agree Kirsten?"
I nodded nervously, fully aware of both Garrett's eyes and the waitress' glaring
ones looking at me. "That's enough."
"Alright then. I'll be right out with that. Would you like your normal red wine?
"
Garrett shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I'll just take a Sprite please."
"Water," I muttered quickly when the waitress looked down at me.
After the waitress left, I nervously smoothed down my napkin. "Aren't you afraid
of someone seeing you with me?"
"These people don't exactly care much for gossip. And the papparazzi aren't rich
enough to get into The Mona Lisa anyways." Garrett said wryly.
"That's good." I wanted to ask if he had seen the People magazine with us on it
but opted for silence.
"Yes, I have seen the People magazine, Kirsten. Don't worry about that. It's har
d to recognize you in that picture."
When he saw my surprised looked, Gzrrett quickly said, "Kirsten, you're like an
open book. Stop twisting your napkin nervously or looking at me with that guilty
face and then maybe I'll have to guess a couple times before I get it right."

I laughed nervously as the waitress brought out our drinks. "Am I really that ea
sy to read? Do you know everything I'm thinking?" I asked, taking a sip of cold
water. If he did, then he would know how attracted to him I was and there was no
way I was going to let him know that.
"Not everything but sometimes it's just too easy."
Looks like I would have to mask my emotions better.
The fondue came a couple minutes later as Garrett was trying to read my mind.
"Okay, okay, I give up Kirsten. Let's eat now." Garrett finally mutttered, break
ing eye contact and giving me a metal toothpick thing.
All the food looked and smelled delicious. Dipping a piece of bread into the che
ese, I moaned at how good it tasted.
"You're thinking that Garrett is awesome right now." Garrett said triumphantly,
looking at me over his Sprite. "Thanks for the mental compliment Kirsten. I appr
eciate it."
"You're welcome." I replied dryly, dipping another piece of bread.
After I was completely stuffed with strawberries and bread, Garrett paid the bil
l and we headed back to his car again. The waitress that helped ushad tried to e
ngage Garrett in a conversation but he just politely shook her off.
"Are we done yet?" I asked as we headed back in the general direction of the man
sion.
Garrett grinned then took a left instead of a right. "Do you like animals Kirste
n?"
"Yes," I replied slowly, "Dogs are my favorite."
"Good then," Garrett said, "Then I hope you'll like the Humane Society's dog sal
e."
This guy was unbelievable. First, he remembered that my favorite activity othert
han cooking was skating. Then he had treated me to a lunch at the Mona Lisa. And
now he was about to let me buy my own dog.
"Are you sure this is okay with your parents?" I asked as we strolled by a clust
er of cat cages.

"It'll be fine Kirsten. Goldilocks comes over so often that she's almost like ou
r dog."
"Alright." I said, unconvinced.
The Humane Society, an organization that saves animals , seemed to have collecte
d many different dogs. There were beagles, dalmations, schnauzers, poodles, and
many hybrids.
I stopped in front of every cage, looking at the animal for a second before movi
ng on. We had been there for about twenty minutes when I stumbled across a litte
r of collies. A mother sat in the middle surrounded by little grey puppies that
were bouncing around the cage and barking at everything that moved. A puppy on t
he side had a smaller ear than the rest that made him appear lopsided.
"'Aw, Garrett, look at this one." I cooed bending down to stare adoringly at the
misfit.
Garrett crouched down next to me, looking at the lopsided dog. "You like the lon
ers don't you?" He asked softly, looking at me closely with warmth in his grey e
yes.
I grinned. "Yeah, and he's just the cutest dog ever."
Garrett stood up signaling to a Humane Society volunteer.
"Hey, my girlfriend what this one. Please."
Garrett's use of the word girlfriend warmed me up even more than the ice skating
or the croissant. Looking up at him as he paid for my dog, I wondered to myself
, "How did I get so lucky?"
After we had bought a collar, some chew toys, food, and a comfy bed, I was holdi
ng the dog and trying to hug Garrett at the same time.
"Thank you so much." I whispered, burying my head into his shoulder.
The dog's family started barknig and howling as we walked away towards the car,
small puppies scratching hard against the cage.
"I'm reading your mind away Kirsten, and no, we cannot buy the entire litter no
matter how adorable they are."
I grinned and snuggled closer to Garrett. Now, I was starting to see where my li
fe's path was heading. Maybe it would be with a cute dog, a restaurant, and a ha

ndsome man by my side.####################################

Culinaria L'amore Chapter Twenty-Three
####################################
Vote, vote, vote! Love you guys!
Also, check out Loveland for me? Please?
One shot? Yes no? I need the feedback!
<3 Infatuated
********************
"So what do you plan on naming him?" Garrett asked as we pulled into the drivewa
y. He reached over and scratched the grey collie's lopsided ears, chuckling soft
y as he licked his palm.
I examined my new pet, smiling as he barked excitedly, his grey tail beating aga
inst my arm.
"I want to name him Simba." I muttered, planting a kiss on the dog's head as he
wiggled around and licked the tip of my nose..
Garrett raised an eyebrow as he opened up his car door, running around to open m
ine.
"Simba?" He asked as he took the dog toys and leash from my left hand before hel
ping me and Simba out of the car.
"It's a cute name." I replied, hoisting a bag of food in my arm and following hi
m to the door.
"But Simba was a powerful lion king and that little buddy is..."
"Just as strong and powerful as the animal he's named after. Shut it."
Garrett shot me a bemused look before his smile faded a little, taking in my get
up and Simba. Then, abruptly, he turned around and headed inside, the only sound
coming from the beeping of the car locking.
Surprised by his quick change of emotions, I followed him, keeping the door open
by putting my booted foot through the crack.
Neither Yivanni or Mr. Bianchi didn't seem to be home at the moment and I set do
wn the dog food before kicking off my shoes and literally running after him, Sim
ba barking in my arms.
"What's wrong?" I asked, setting down the puppy as I followed him into the kitch
en where he started rolling up his sleeves, washed his hands, and started choppi
ng green peppers. Watching him slice the vegetable in a couple seconds, I waited
patiently for him to start talking.
"We need to talk, Kirsten." He muttered quietly, setting down his knife and wipe
d his hands on a dark towel. Coming over to where I stood, he sat down at a tabl
e and patted the cushioned seat next to me.
"What's up?" I asked, trying to sound calm and relaxed, but on the inside, I wan
ted to know what he was thinking, ad I was starting to get afraid of.

"I don't want to talk about it but after tonight..."

My fear was growing as his face become blank. What was he going to say, that he
was having doubts? Felt like I was too young? A nuisance? The waitress at Mona L
isa was more attractive than I? What did he want?
"But, do you think you can still fill your stomach up with some spinach pasta af
ter all those strawberries and bread? It's my new recipe for my upcoming recipe
book."
I wanted to laughed at how I reacted to his serious face and lack of words. How
could I think that he was about to say something that could ruin this day. Becau
se to be truthful, this was the best day in a long time.
"Sure. Want help cooking?"
Garrett smiled at me, grasping my hand and pulling me to the counter. "Of course
."
********************
After we enjoyed a dinner of spinach chicken pasta and a type of Indian green pe
pper salad, I tracked down Simba on the second floor landing, cowering against t
he corner as the wind blew strongly outside.
"Ah, you poor baby." I muttered, tweaking his odd shaped ear gently. He whined i
n my arms, licking my exposed skin and wriggling around as if wanting to get dow
n.
"Hey Kirsten? Do you want me to pour him some dog food? I think he may be tired
after that long day."
"Sure," I replied, letting him bound down the stairs and towards the kitchen whe
re the sound of food falling into a metal tray ringing around the spacious room.
"We'll have to make sure he doesn't bother us while we work tonight for the comp
etition."
"Alonzo and Angela are coming again?" I questioned, leaning against the door.
"Thank go no. But they'll be here tomorrow and Friday, the every day next week s
ince they're going on some two year anniversary thing to Hawaii."
"They're married?"
Garrett rolled his eyes. "Hell no. They are not responsible enough for that."
"Alright. Let's get started then. Hopefully it'll get better tonight."
Tonight, we decided to make a french pastery and a Russian potato dish that made
my arms hurting from all the shredding of cheese and potato.
"You alright?" Garrett asked, popping by my unit to check the boiling of the mil
k.
"Fine," I panted, trying the mix the big pan of batter while beating two eggs. "
Sad as it is, I kind of wish those two were here. I don't have four arms."
"I'm sorry. Here, give me the bowl." He gestured, pushing me closer and grasping

the spoon. "Go get some rest."

"I'm fine, really." I tried to grab the bowl away but he pulled me to face him,
trapping me in his arms so that I couldn't escape nor in the reach of the batter
.
"Garrett." I growled threatening, trying to fish it out of his hand.
"Yes, Kirsten?" He asked.
Before I could reply, his lips descended onto mine, his kiss soft and sweet. But
sadly short.
"Didn't work." I said hotly. "Now give it."
"Oh really? Do I need to try again?"
This time he was more passionate, tangling his free hand in my hair, but had to
release his grip of my back to do so. I sank into the kiss for about five second
s before I broke apart from him, lunging for the bowl.
Fortunate for us, we were in a pretty open space so when we fell, me on top of h
im, the batter only managed to splatter onto distant cabinets.
The red bowl cracked down the side, the remaining batter leaking out.
"Oh god." I moaned, burying my head into his shoulder. "We're as bad as Alonzo a
nd Angela. There's no way we're finishing tonight."
Garrett's laugh rumbled in his chest and I looked up to be captivated by his gre
en grey eyes. "That's okay. They've been together for almost two years. There mu
st be something behind that making out."####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Twenty-Four
####################################
The rest of September passed in a flash. Amelia's party had been a success, she
was on the edge of being engaged, how that was official I wasn't sure, and I had
gotten closer to her and her group of friends. Simbah was accepted by all of th
e Bianchis unless anyone found him eating things he shouldn't be which was... fr
ankly quite often. Training for the International Culinary Festival was going we
ll and Alonzo and Angela seemed to be less lusty around each other which helped
everybody's concentration.
As for Garrett and I, everything seemed to be static. We would share private mom
ents when he would kiss or hug me, pressing me so close to his chest that I woul
d fight the urge to draw away. Then there would be the times when he was purpose
ly trying to avoid me whether in class, at home, or at our training sessions. Wh
atever was happening with him, I was most definitely not privy to his thoughts.
On the other hand, I didn't hear from Jackson anymore and Harrison and I, after
our little get together were officially friends. However, every time I was with
him, I started feeling guilty though Garrett and I weren't classified as anythin
g.
The pestering lawyers' calls stalled and every time I called Pierre, he seemed l
ess stressed than the call before. My conversations with Elle and my mom also se
emed to slow down as the first quarter of class dwindled to an end. By the time
I finally was done looking up recipes and finished chopping strange ingredients,
Halloween was upon me.

"Kirsten! Don't tell me you still haven't found a Halloween costume yet for my p
arty." Amelia whined over the phone as I tried to paint my toenail with my left
hand and fend off the curious Simbah with my right..
"I'm sorry." I moaned, half in agony as a bit of nail polish fell on my skin and
half in stress. "I just haven't had time yet to look for everything yet. I prom
ise it'll be done by Thursday."
"But Thursday's the day before Halloween! What if your costume needs to be tailo
red or something? Then you'd come in something lame because you didn't go shoppi
ng earlier."
"I can just wear my smarties outfit like I usually do."
"Don't tell me honey. It's a lame outfit that has smarties glued to your pants a
nd broken nerd glasses." Amelia's voice turned to a nasal quality.
"Are you okay?" I asked, pausing to turn my phone onto speakerphone.
"Yeah. Just a little cold. But seriously, you need to wear something sexy. Make
some fine eyecandy drool when you walk by."
"Alright. I can't promise excessive drooling but I'll try my best."
"You better. I got to go now. Got a doctor appointment. For my cold."
After I hung up, Garrett's voice floated through my bedroom, causing me to jump
and spill my red nail polish all over my beauty magazine. "Do you want me to tak
e you shopping?"
"Holy shit." I cursed, turning to face Garrett while trying to dab the liquid of
f the paper. "Sorry, potty mouth."
Garrett smiled, coming in and taking a seat on my bed, scratching Simbah behind
his ears.. Tonight, he was wearing a dark blue dress shirt and formfitting jeans
that made him look as if he had just stepped out of a photo shoot with Vogue; i
n contrast, my purple sweats and uncombed hair looked like something Gwen Stefan
i would never touch.
"It's alright. I've been on the receiving and giving end. So yes? No?"
"What?" I asked distractedly, mushing my magazine and dumping it in the trash.
"Do you want to go get a Halloween costume for her party? I would hate for you t
o go dressed up in candy."
"Hey," I muttered, giving him a smile, "don't insult the smartie pants. But sure
, let's go shopping. After that is, I change into something... presentable."
Outside, snow was falling on the ground in a light sprinkle, coating the yellow
grass in white fluff. We got into his car and immediately, I turned the heater o
n full blast.
"Do you know that in California right now, it's like 70 degrees outside? I swear
there's something wrong with Colorado." I said, tightening my scarf around my f
ace.
"That's what makes Colorado so special I guess." Garrett muttered with a shrugg
as we headed down the highway. "I guess you're excited to be in California for t

he competition."
"Definitely." I said. "But New York would of been cool. I've never been there be
fore. It looks exciting."
"If you find pollution and rats exciting. The only place in New York that's real
ly glamorous is Times Square."
"You've been there before?" I asked as we stopped at a red light.
"Yep. Had my very first interview there. The yellow cabs scared the shit out of
me because they looked like bumble bees. But that was nineteen years ago so of c
ourse my perception's changed.
"Bumble bees?" I muttered teasingly as we pulled into the parking lot of a costu
me store.
"Yes. Now shut it Kirsten."
The costume store welcomed us with warm and the gentle scent of vanilla and cinn
amon. Immediately, a salesclerk walked up to us with a businesswoman smile on he
r face.
"Welcome to Halloween 101! If you need any help, I'm Wendy and I'm willing to he
lp out with anything."
Garrett grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the adult section. "Thanks but I thi
nk we'll be fine by ourselves." He muttered nicely, giving her a charming smile
before she hurried off.
"So what are you looking for?" He asked as we slowly strolled down the first ais
le.
"I don't know." I muttered, glancing over the devil costumes and sexy nurses. "E
verything looks revealing and too short."
"How about this?" He asked, holding up an Alice In Wonderland apron.
"Um... I don't think so. I don't think it covers my butt enough. How about this?
" I asked holding up a Mario costume to Garrett. "You could go as Mario from tho
se video games."
Garrett laughed, grabbing the costume and holding up the brown mustache to his f
ace. "No way. Facial hair takes too long to take care of."
"As if you've ever had any." I replied, looking disgustedly at a goddess costume
with slits in very strategically placed positions.
"Actually I have. Dressed up like a young version of Santa once for Halloween. I
used my creativity... unlike you."
I spun around with the goddess outfit in my hand, raising an eyebrow at Garrett.
"At least my smarties outfit was more than just a scrap of spandex."
Garrett looked at the goddess outfit before cracking up. "Kirsten, that's for a
ten year old. See on the description?"
I looked down and noticed the big bold words 'Ten and younger'. "But," I sputter
ed, "those rips are most definitely not where they should be."

"Point taken. I'll go try on the Mario outfit. Take my keys before I lose them."
Once he left for the changing room, I looked desperately around the shop, trying
to find something cheap and not as revealing, before my eyes landed on the perf
ect costume.
The bumblebee outfit consisted of a formfitting yellow and black striped dress w
ith white wings and a cute bee headband. Attached to the bottom of the dress was
a black stinger. It wasn't too short and not grandmother length and remembering
the short bee taxi conversation, I knew that it was perfect for Halloween.
If Garrett hadn't admitted to me earlier that he was afraid of bees, then I woul
d of looked straight past the costume but now, my shopping had been cut in half.
Not wanting Garrett to see my costume, I neglected the idea of trying it on and
decided to purchase it and hem anything at home.
"Will that be all?" The cashier asked, eyeing the wings in annoyance as she real
ized her pastic bag didn't fit the wings in.
"Yeah. Thanks." Grabbing the costume and taking the wings without using the plas
tic bag, I hurried out to Garrett's black car and placed it in the trunk, coveri
ng a blanket over it so he wouldn't be able to see the yellow.
When I got back, Garrett had just come out in his blue cotton trousers and his r
idiculous hat and mustache.
"What do you think?" He asked turning around slowly so I could examine it carefu
lly. The pants sagged around the butt and his hat covered his ears. The brown mu
stache was no better, lopsided over his mouth and covering his lips. He looked m
ore ridiculous than Alonzo did when he got covered in eggs and flour because the
beater attacked him
Trying to suppress my laughter, I managed to choke out, "Sexy."
********************
Halloween came quickly, the days of class passing in a blur until I ran into Gar
rett in the hallway, wearing his ridiculous costume.
"I see you're ready to go trick or treating." I muttered, flicking his mustache.
"I can't even see your lips wearing that."
Garrett smiled at me, wriggling his eyebrows in a supposedly attractive way. "Do
you need to see my lips?"
"Oh shut up Garrett. Though I heard Mario's good at kissing since he's Italian.
Thought that this was my chance to find out."
I expected a laugh or a kiss in return but Garrett's smile faded instead and he
started to look a tad bit uncomfortable. "Yeah, well I had to glue this mustache
on so maybe another time... but now that I've shown you my costume, you did end
up finding one too so I could laugh at you too right?"
I grinned. Garrett never figured out what I bought. "Wait a second. I'll be out
in ten minutes."
The bumble bee costume turned out to be perfect in size. The striped dress wasn'
t as revealing as some of the other costumes, the only downside being the cleava
ge exposure, and the bouncy poms on top of my headband looked adorable with the
white wings. My makeup was only simple eyeliner and some mascara.

When I walked back out, Garrett's eyes bugged out of his head. First his gaze la
nded on my chest but he quickly moved on to examine the rest of my costume and p
articularly the stinger.
"You didn't." Garrett finally said, taking a step back.
"Oh I did." I replied, grinning at him.
He gulped, repositioning his hat. "You look really nice."
"Thanks. Just don't get on my nerves too much, or else you'll get stung."
I swore his face got a shade lighter. "You really are afraid of bees aren't you?
" I asked fidgeting with my headband.
Garrett seemed to brush off any former fear. "Of course not. After all, I've bee
n apparently making out with one for the past two weeks. They must be completely
harmless."
I chuckled, taking his arm. "Sure Garrett. Now where are you going tonight?"
"I'm heading down to the soup kitchen again. We're having a special Halloween pa
rty down there. All the city's kids are invited. Where are you going?"
"Amelia's party at the Antler Hotel."
Garrett frowned, playing with one of my antennae's. "Be safe okay? I don't want
a vampire to suck out your blood. Even though you have a stinger, ghosts wouldn'
t be bothered by it."
I mentally sighed. Why was Garrett acting so... parental almost? It was less in
the sense of a relationship than even friendship and just a couple days ago, he
was holding me so tendly that there was no way he was trying to be my parent.
Unless he was okay with incest. Which was doubtful.
As if sensing my distress, Garrett gave me a kiss on the cheek, tucking a strand
of my hair behind my ear. "Just be safe. I'll see you later tonight."
After Garrett left for about five minutes, James came around and picked me up in
a shiny black Mercedes Benz. Tonight, the man had shed his normal suit and tie
and was decked out in a banana outfit.
"I like it," I muttered getting into the car, trying to hold my headband still a
s it knocked against the roof of the Mercedes, "yellow compliments your complexi
on."
James wryly explained how his niece had picked it out for him and off we went to
wards Amelia's party.
The Antler Hotel was impressive, approximately twenty stories high and decorated
with strands of orange and white Christmas lights. Jack-o-Lanterns were scatter
ed everywhere with flickering candles in the insides which gave the entire place
an eery glow. Dance music boomed from the lounge and the sound of people scream
ing and laughing filtered into the outside.
When I walked up the stairs, a sexy pirate Amelia greeted me. "Kirsten! You look
adorable!" She screamed over the loud music. "Thanks for coming! Head this way.
This is where we're all chilling!"

The place that they we ended up was just next to the bar where hoards of people
shouted for orders. The poor bartenders seemed to be working off their butts but
one spotted me and shouted,"and for you pretty lady?"
"Just a light beer." I replied, uncomfortably twisting a orange napkin in my han
ds. I rarely drinked though it seemed to be a slight requirement of this party.
Already, people were getting plastered taking shots of orange and black Jello an
d sipping some strange drink with a flashing light.
"Come on and dance with us!" Amelia said, pulling me in when Nicki Minaj's voice
came onto the speakers. I tried to enjoy myself, holding my full cup of beer in
one hand, consciencely trying not to spill it all over my dress. Amelia jumped
around with me for a while before grabbing her slightly tipsy boyfriend and head
ing to the middle of the dance floor.
When the next song, a slow, romantic one came on, I extracted myself from the co
uples and found a stool to sit on. I was already starting to get tired of the mu
sic and the intoxicated guests and slipped off my black heels to relief some ten
sion.
"Hey stranger." A familiar voice muttered next to me. Looking up, I came face to
face with Harrison. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of dark blu
e jeans plus a pair of ratty sneakers.
"Hey handsome." I replied, giving him a grin. "Didn't know that you were invited
or else I would of saved you a dance."
"I'm not actually. I was part of the catering service for the food. There's stil
l time, Kirsten. You can dance with me later."
Suddenly, Harrison's inviting voice seemed to make me uncomfortable.
"I understand. You and that mystery boyfriend guy. Don't worry about it."
I relaxed in my seat, enjoying the moment. How could Harrison sense my mood chan
ges so much better than Garrett? In a way, Harrison seemed to know me better whi
ch was ridiculous because I was with Garrett every single day.
"Well, what have you been up to lately?" I asked, taking a minuscule sip of my b
eer, trying not to grimace at the pungent taste.
Harrison took a seat next to me. "Well I've been working. And studying. And play
ing tennis really. Normal activity. You?"
"Going to school. Cooking. Staring dejectedly at my numerous recipe failures."
He laughed, casually draping an arm around my seat though not coming in contact
with me. "I'm sure it can't be that bad."
"Oh it's worse than bad. I think Ga-Mr. Bianchi's ready to kill me because of th
e number of baking pans I've ruined. It's ridiculous."
"You're biased."
"As are you Harrison."
"Yeah, but I'm biased in a good way. You should thank me for standing up for you
when no one else does, including you. Come on, let's dance."

Awkwardly, the next song was a semi slow dance that forced me to drape my arms a
round his neck and him to rest his hands on my hips. We swayed gently to the mus
ic with me staring at his white shirt that just had to be tight in certain place
s. He smelled fresh, like he had just gotten out of the shower with a tinge of C
ologne and I refrained myself from taking a big sniff.
"Well this isn't awkward." Harrison muttered candidly as we turned to avoid a dr
unk couple.
"Tell me about it." I replied, looking up at his flashing purple and orange face
, his eyes hooded in the shadows of his brows.
Just then, the phone in his left pocket buzzed, forcing his to stop dancing and
retrieve it.
"Damn it," he cursed checking his text," sorry Kirsten but I'll have to bail on
you. Emergency with the delivery truck. I um, enjoyed the one minute of our danc
e together. If you ever break up with that guy, don't be afraid to give me a cal
l. I'll be waiting. Have a good night you bumble bee!"
And with that he was gone. Leaving me on the dance floor to wonder what the hell
I was doing.####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Twenty-Five
####################################
VOTE VOTE VOTE!!!!
<3 Infatuated
********************
Thirty minutes later, I was done with Amelia's party. Everywhere, people were gr
inding, making out, or playing beer pong in the corners. No one seemed sober and
everybody tried to dissuade me from not taking another sip of my flat beer that
I was tempted to throw away into the trash can.
Pulling down my dress as far as it went so nobody would get the wrong impression
, I squeezed the dancing bodies, trying to find Amelia. She was in the middle of
the dance floor, grinding with who I hoped was a ghost version of Ricky, and sm
iled at me as I got closer.
"Having fun?" She yelled over the music, her voice slightly slurred and her red
curly damp.
"Actually," I yelled back, "I'm not feeling too peachy Amelia. I think I may hav
e to call it a night."
Amelia pouted, "don't go just yet. It's only been an hour of fun! We haven't eve
n gotten to the pinyata yet!"
I grimaced, trying to feign looking ill. "I'm sorry Amelia but I really have to
go. Or else I might barf all over some hot guy's shoe."
"Aw poor Kirsten. I got you so plastered that you might barf." Her laughter was
obviously one of a drunkard since one, she was starting to sway not in a grindin
g way but in a drunk dizzy way, and two, it was pretty easy to see that I was no
t drunk off my ass.
I sighed, making sure that I had my phone in my hand. "Later Amelia. Call a cab

or something once the party's over. I'll find a ride."

Not waiting to hear her reply, I hurried through the sweating crowd and into the
fresh cold air outside.
Immediately goosebumps rose all over my skin as the wind bit my scantily clad bo
dy. Flipping open my phone, I starting pressing the numbers for a cab before a b
eep from my phone distracted me, it being a text message from Garrett.
'Hey', it said, 'I'm coming to pick you up because I want to talk to you. Be the
re in fifteen.'
The text message was sent twenty minutes ago so I strained my eyes in the darkne
ss for any sign of an expensive looking car.
A loud car honk to my right made me jump and turn around, finding myself staring
at Garrett's familiar black Mercedes, with him inside still wearing the ridicul
ous mustache. Nearly running to the car, I opened up the door and hopped in, smi
ling at Garrett as I did so.
"Thank you so much for picking me up." I muttered, pushing my hands up against t
he car heater.
Garrett was pretty quiet as he drove towards the exit, muttering a 'you're welco
me' before he was silent for a minute.
"How was the party?" He finally asked, giving me a sideways look before looking
back at the road.
"Horrible." I replied, trying to sound casual as we turned onto the highway, the
tension in the car obviously coming from Garrett.
"Yeah? I never figured you were one for the wild crowd."
"You know me pretty well then."
Garrett cleared his throat before finally saying more than a sentence. "It's col
d today. I'm surprised you didn't come out as a popsicle."
"Yeah well I guess bumblebees are good at staying warm or something. I wasn't to
o cold."
The man next to me cracked a small smile under his faux beard, making me feel a
bit better.
"Why are you still wearing that ridiculous mustache?" I asked tugging on it slig
htly.
his face turned from a small smile to a grimace. "I think I may have super glued
it to my upper lip or something. I tried taking it off but it wouldn't budge. S
eriously. My skin's also starting to itch like crazy so I must be allergic to wh
atever the hell that adhesive was."
"Aw, poor Garrett." I muttered. "Now your doomed to look like Mario for the rest
of your life. You can't smoke, kiss, or eat without getting something caught in
it or looking like a complete freak."
"I quit smoking." Garrett said abruptly, turning to look at me.
My eyebrows rose at his spontaneous comment. "Really? Since when?"

"Since I met this really nice girl who didn't like me sucking on my sticks of de
ath. Plus, I'm too hot to have yellow teeth or shriveled up black lungs."
I laughed. "Wow, that nice girl must be awesome. Tell her thanks will you? But b
ack to the point. Maybe now you won't need to smoke. But how will you eat food w
ithout getting spaghetti sauce in your beard?"
"Kirsten, this isn't funny!"
"Hell yeah, it's funny." I giggled, flicking his mustache so that it become lops
ided on his face.
"You haven't mentioned whether or not I could still kiss." Garrett said as we tu
rned into the parking lot of a coffee shop.
"Well," I said teasingly, "I don't know if you can still kiss. That is yet to be
determined."
At that moment, as Garrett turned off the engine and leaned in, his phone buzzed
in his Mario pants, causing him to curse and pick it up. What he read obviously
didn't make him happy; his face turned hard and sad as he shut his phone.
"Let's go get some hot chocolate and some scones. I'm hungry." He said softly, o
pening up his door and letting cold air waltz into the car. "My treat. Come on."
Surprised and a bit resigned at his sudden change in attitude, I quickly followe
d his into the semi-empty Starbucks.
"What do you want Kirsten?" He asked, leaning over to examine the pasteries.
"Just a chocolate donut." I replied, awkwardly standing behind him.
"A chocolate donut and a tall hot chocolate." Garrett told the bemused cashier w
ho kept on looking towards his mustache. I restrained a giggle.
Five minutes later, Garrett and I were sitting in a booth, him trying to sip his
coffee and me slwly eating my donut. He would occasionally have to lift up the
cotton mustache in order to take a sip which made me chuckle every few minutes.
"How was the soup kitchen Halloween party?" I asked, shifting slightly in my sea
t.
Garrett gave me a small smile, swirling his cup of hot chocolate around before a
nswering. "It was cool. Maggie was Madonna. She had this horrible yellow wig and
this dress that... geez it's kinda hard for me to explain without grimacing."
I laughed, thinking about the time when Garrett and I kissed in the soup kitchen
and she had walked in, telling us to get a room.
"She sounds cool." I replied, tearing off another chunk of chocolate donut.
"Yeah. The other people just came for the candy really. I bought six jumbo sized
bags and within an hour it was all gone. Seriously. ALL gone. I swear I didn't
eat that much candy when I wazs a kid." Garrett grimaced as his mustache drooped
precariously close to his hot chocolate.
"You know what you should do Garrett? You should grow an actual mustache and onc
e it's long enough, snip it off and wah la! The faux mustache is also out."

Garrett groaned. "Do you know how long it takes to grow a mustache? I'm not wear
ing this for the next two months. I don't want to look like a fool in front of t
he camera."
"Talking about the ICAF, how am I suppose to get out of school?" I asked.
He shrugged, taking another sip. "We'll probably excuse you from finals and clas
ses. Say that you need a heart transplant since your heart was starting to turn
to stone and cold."
"Haha," I muttered dryly, "nice one."
"Well you have to admit, asking me to grow an actual mustache was a bit ridiculo
us. And cruel. We can't ruin my good looks." Garrett replied jokingly.
"Maybe you need brain surgery. Make sure the next time you don't glue a mustache
to your face."
"Touch." He replied with a chuckle.
We fell into an easy silence, me twisting my purity ring around my finger and hi
m swirling his drink. Finally Garrett cleared his throat and said, "there's some
thing I've been wanting to talk to you about."
Immediately the casual atmosphere disappeared, replaced with tension. I scooted
forwards in my seat, trying not to over analyze his motive.
"So you know that the competition's coming up and class is only halfway-"
The sound of my ringtone interrupted what he was about to say, causing me to chu
ckle nervously. "These phone calls are just perfect timing eh? Grabbing my phone
and noticing Amelia's number, I picked it up.
"Hello?"
There was a moment of silence, no sound of the music in the background or people
screaming.
"Hello?" I said again, holding the phone closer to my ear.
"Kirsten? Kirsten? Is that you?" Amelia's voice was hushed, sober sounding and c
lear.
"Amelia? What's up?"
"Kirsten, please come back. He did something." Amelia sounded hysterical, her qu
iet sobs sending chills down my back. "He locked the door. Room 215. Please Kirs
ten. He's going to do somethimg. I just know it."
"What wrong, Amelia? Hello? Amelia?" The sound of a click rang through my phone,
leaving me shaking from fear and the dial tone in my ear.
"Who was that? Amelia from my class?"
I turned to Garrett, my eyes wide. "Garrett, take me back to the hotel. Please.
Amelia's in trouble."
*********************
(Caution! There is slight mentions of things that are a bit R rated. If you cann

ot handle what happens in real life, skip over this.)

Garrett drove faster than I could ever imagine, his tires squealing on the pavem
ent as we hurried back to the hotel. My mind was in a whirlwind as we quickly ap
proached the hotel.
What was wrong with Amelia? Where was Ricky? What had happened between the time
I left to right now? He couldn't be... raping her, could who ever he hell he was
?
The Mercedes pulled up in front of the hotel, Garrett and I both jumping out of
the car, Garrett placing a fifty dollar bill for the valet.
"She said room 215." I shouted as we tried to hurry past the dancing couples.
"Come on Kirsten. Use the stairs. The elevator's jammed." Garrett said, pulling
me towards the dark stairwell.
We quickly ran up the stairs, opening the door to the second level.
Sprinting down the hall, Garrett reached 215 before I did, pauing before the doo
r.
"Garrett." I said quietly. "Let me go in first. Just in case, you know."
He seemed to take the hint that I didn't want him to see Amelia if she was indec
ently dressed but he stood behind me and said, "I'll be right behind you."
The Antler Hotel was one of those old fashioned buildings where doorknobs were i
n place of the fancy card doors. Testing the knob, I was surprised to find it un
locked. Hesitating, with butterflies and fear for my friend in my stomach, I pus
hed open the door.
The room was dark but I could hear muffled screams and a guy grunting. Flipping
on the light switch, I whimpered as I saw a semi nude Amelia lying on the bed, b
arely conscience, her arms tied to the bed post and a sheet lying carelessly on
top of her.
Too busy running to my friend, I forgot that somebody had done this to her.
"You bitch!" Someone yelled behind me, causing me to turn and see a masked man r
unning towards me, his ghost costume flapping wildly as he came towards me. I sc
reamed and swerved away as he tried to punch my face, his fist instead landing o
n my side. There was a sicken crunch in my side and I screamed, tears whelming i
nto my eyes as Garrett started sprinting to the rapist.
Garrett was taller than the other man, but it was obvious that the shorter one w
as more lithe. I watched in horror as Garrett ducked a punch and jabbed his fist
into the rapist's stomach. The half naked guy made contact with Garrett's shoul
der but he just grimaced and gave the shorter man a bloody nose.
As Amelia's attacker hollered in pain, Garrett turned to me and shouted, "Call t
he police Kirsten! Hurry!"
I quickly took out my phone, dialing 911 while trying to get Amelia to look at m
e. She sagged against me, her beautiful hair messy and tangled. I saw a couple p
ieces of hair lying next to her and already, a bruise was forming on her cheek.
Ignoring my own pain in my side, I got Amelia's pirate outfit back on, trying to
slide it over her bra as she moaned and mumbled incoherently. Thank god all her
underwear was on. Maybe the man... hadn't managed to do any harm.

"911, how may I help you?"

"Hi," I mumbled, tears spilling down my face, "my friend may just have been rape
d. Antler Hotel 2154 Colorado Avenue. Hurry, please!"
"Kirsten? Is that you?" Amelia mumbled.
"Yeah. Help's coming Amelia. Help's coming." I managed to choke out as I brushed
her hair with my fingers.
My eyes filled with tears, half from pain and half from regret. If only I had st
ayed one more hour make sure everything was alright. If only I listened to Ameli
a and pulled her away from the ghost. If only the music hadn't been so loud and
other people could of seen Amelia being assaulted. If only...
The sound of the
tlessly into his
ucker... Garrett
a punching bag.

rapist moaning made me look towards Garrett as he pounded relen

body. He was angry, calling him a bastard, sicko, crazy motherf
didn't look or act like Garrett as he used the rapist's body as
This was a completely different person.

His beating continued for five minutes, the man's howls of pain becoming softer
and softer... then Garrett tore off the man's masked, revealing the man I wished
was more dead than anyone.
Adam Ramsey's head lolled as he fell unconscious.
********************
Please vote if you didn't expect this outcome. Please vote if you want more.
Give me feedback! Remember who Adam Ramsey was?
Longest comment gets a dedication :)
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Twenty-Six
####################################
VOTE VOTE VOTE! I beg of you please!!!
<3 Infatuated
********************
Flashing lights, blue and red, hushed voices, Amelia's limp body, Adam staring a
t me dully, not realizing that he was the cause of my many pains, Garrett's worr
ied face as he asked me what's wrong, what's wrong?
I feel like I can't breathe. The space around me is constricted, making me dizzy
, and my diaphragm seemed to help my lungs in no way. My fingers were numb, unmo
vable and stiff, while the rest of my body responded weakly to my mind, allowing
me to move around slowly and blearily as we entered the hospital, everyone runn
ing too fast for me to keep up.
Garrett's concern was obvious on his face as he slowed down his pace and linked
his fingers with mine, tugging me along gently down the bright fluorescent lit h
allway as paramedics lead Amelia and Adam down to the ER.
As I tried to follow, an elderly nurse gently pushed me back, telling me that vi

sitors would only be accepted after they were checked up. Sinking into a seat in
the anteroom, I slumped against the white wall, wanting just for time to pass b
y.
Turning to Garrett who has seated himself next to me, I opened my mouth then swa
yed, losing control of my balance and slumped over his chest, blacking out.
*********************
"Kirsten? Kirsten? Are you okay? Goddamnit!"
The world slowly came into focus as Garrett waved his hand over my face, his own
one of worriment then relief as I batted his hand away.
I was lying across Garrett's lap when I finally focused on where we were. "I'm o
kay." I muttered shakily, relieved when the numbness seemed to fade a bit and I
could flex my fingers.
"Are you sure?" Garrett asked, my head feeling the vibrations in his chest as he
talked.
Looking up at him, a hysterical giggle escaped my mouth as I stared at his brown
mustache, lopsided and drooping over his mouth. "Did I faint so long that you g
rew a moustache Garrett? I dig the facial hair."
Garrett didn't get a chance to reply as a plump elderly nurse came up to us aski
ng, "are you okay?" Without allowing me to assure her that I was fine, she start
ed probing my eyelids, feeling my forehead to make sure that I was okay. Then sh
e passed me a bag of candy and a bottle of water, turning to Garrett.
"She appears to be completely conscience. She's the friend of the redhead right?
Maybe just in shock."
Shock? More like a deep pain inside my gut due to the fact that my friend had ju
st been raped by the man who killed my father.
Tearing open a fun sized bag of M&M's, I tried to sit up, only slightly dizzy, b
ut before I could sit in my own seat, Garrett pushed me down, encircling an arm
around my waist so I couldn't move.
"Garrett. Stop." I muttered, trying to get his arm to release his grip on me. "I
can sit by myself. It isn't hard. Plus, you made me spill an M&M. M&M wasters a
ren't very attractive, you know."
"Shut up and eat." He replied, looking down at me with stormy grey eyes. After a
ll of the incidents had occurred, any green or blue was hidden behind a solid, d
ark silver color that made him look more intense and stranger.
"Garrett. You're mustache is lopsided." I muttered, flicking it back into place.
"Oh look! I fixed it!"
"Don't make me kiss you to shut you up. You need to rest."
"If you kissed me, I'd probably swoon again."
"Oh Kirsten." Garrett said, touching his forehead with mine and placing a kiss o
n my cheek. "Don't be a smart aleck now. You scared me so much when you just bla
cked out. You seriously need to rest."
My attention was diverted to a small cut on the side of his cheek oozing blood,

with dried red flakes already surround the shallow abrasion.

"What happened here?" I asked, gently touching his cheekbone, trying to avoid ge
tting any of my germs on the wound.
"You're not even listening to me now are you?" He asked with a sigh, rolling his
eyes.
"Answer my question Garrett." I was going for a stern voice but it came out wobb
ly and tired sounding, making me burying my face into his warm chest.

"The bastard had a damn pocketknife. He managed to knick me but I'm perfectly al
right. It doesn't even hurt anymore." Garrett said, batting my hand away and ins
tead holding it in his large palm. I could feel the roughness of his palm and fi
ngertips and the warmth of him skin next to mine.
Tracing his palm with my free hand, I glanced over at the woman next to us with
a drowsy child in her arms, who was in turn glaring at Garrett for his use of la
nguage.
I tried to give her a small smile but my lips trembled too much as I noticed the
pink princess costume the young girl was wearing. Halloween seemed so long ago
and it felt like ages since Garrett and I were enjoying coffee and chocolate don
uts together.
My eyes welled up with tears from sadness, a few escaping and running down my fa
ce. Garrett immediately noticed and whispered, "damn it Kirsten. Are you alright
? Do you need a doctor or something?"
Sniffing, I shakily wiped away my tears with the back of my hand. "I'm fine Garr
ett. Really."
Before his scowl could get any deeper than it was now, the phone in his pocket b
uzzed, forcing him to release his grip on my waist and allowing me to sit up in
my own seat. I was immediately dizzy and missed the warmth of his chest but I ma
naged to recline in my chair.
Garrett was talking on the phone with a frown on his face, walking briskly to th
e entrance of the ER and stepping outside into the cold parking lot.
I looked down at my watch, staring for a couple seconds because the hands seemed
the same length before I realized that it was well after midnight. Who would ca
ll Garrett at this time? His parents?
Dwelling on it for a second, I noticed that the same nurse who gave me Halloween
candy was walking towards me.
"You're Kirsten, correct?"
I nodded, suddenly alert.
"Amelia wants to talk with you. Please follow me."
Giving one last fleeting glance to where Garrett seemed to be yelling at whoever
was at the receiving end, I walked behind the nurse, suddenly nervous at the pr
ospect of talking to Amelia.
The plump lady led me through several passageways until we got to a room labeled

'Recouperation Rooms' where she knocked on the first vanilla door. When Amelia'
s voice resonated into the hallway, we entered.
Amelia's room was simple, white on white with a bed in the middle and two comfy
chairs next to it. Several pills lay on the small white nightstand along with a
cup of water, untouched.
"I'll leave you two along then. Press this button if you need any assistance."
She left us, closing the door quietly behind her, leaving Amelia and I in silenc
e. The redhead looked better than she had two hours ago. Her face was clean, tho
ugh pale, dotted with bruises on her face and neck. Amelia's wrists were red and
abrased from the rope and a massive bruise was forming on her forearm.
"I'm so sorry Amelia." I whispered, choking back my tears and sitting on her cha
ir.
She frowned at me, looking with concern in her green eyes. "That's funny. I was
just about to thank you." Was her reply, as she took my hand in her cold ones.
"But if I had just stayed half an hour longer or something this wouldn't of-"
"Kirsten, he drugged me with GHB, a date rape drug. Pretty powerful. I don't rem
ember him raping me though I can feel it. I don't remember anything after he gav
e me that drink. I just don't remember. It's a horrible feeling. I prefer that I
got raped and not you as well."
My eyes filled up with tears again as I stared into Amelia's tired eyes, amazed
by how calm and logical she was acting. "Don't worry honey. I took the morning a
fter pill. I think I'm going to be alright. Please don't beat yourself up becaus
e you didn't like the party. I swear it was going to be clean with just a bar bu
t it obviously got out of hand."
Amelia's hand tightened around mine as she smiled at me grimly.
"Does Ricky know yet?" I whispered, staring down at the white sheets.
Her face turned into one of pain as she looked at the rack of magazines. "Yes. H
e's on his way."
We fell into silence, each of us in our own thoughts until I said, "I hope he ro
ts in jail for the rest of his worthless life."
"I don't know Kirsten. I hope so too."
"He killed my father."
"Excuse me?"
I looked at Amelia behind my tears. "My father was killed in a car crash. He was
the one who hit him. He went missing after the accident and no one knew where h
e went. No charges went against him since he wasn't present at the trials but ho
pefully this time, everything will be brought to justice."
"Oh god. I didn't know. I'm so sorry for you." She gave me a hug, her frail arms
bringing a bit of comfort to me.
"Are you going back to school soon?" I asked, sitting back down on the seat.
"Soon I hope. I'm still waiting for the results of the tests they gave me. That'

ll determine whether or not I'm fit enough to go back to class."

As if on cue, a knock on the door signified that the doctor was here. He came in
, a balding man in his fifties, with a Manila folder in his arms.
"Would you like to stay and hear the results?" He asked me, sitting on the spinn
y stool, and wheeling himself next to Amelia.
"Yes please." I replied. As I leaned forward, I gasped, a stinging and bonewretc
hing feeling in my side where Adam had punched me.
Amelia immediately noticed my pain but I managed to turn my grimace into an enco
uraging smile.
"Well, it appears that you suffered from a mild concussion. Nothing too major. Y
ou tested negative for genital warts as well as HIV but as of now that's all the
results that have come back for the STI's. You have gotten lucky, though you wi
ll most not likely remember anything from the event since most victims of GHB do
n't. Now whoever attacked Mr. Ramsey however, was quite ruthless."
"Attacked Adam?" Amelia looked at the doctor, bewildered.
I cleared my throat. "Yeah. Well after we got you, Adam was trying to attack me
so um, Garrett took care of him."
"Garrett? As in Garrett Bianchi? Where's Garrett now? I'll have to thank him."
"He's taking a phone call."
"Well whoever this Garrett is, he gave Mr. Ramsey a whooping. Three broken ribs,
two bruised eyes, a broken nose, and a sprained neck. He could actually go to j
ail for that." The doctor muttered.
My gut twisted at the mention of jail.
"Get some rest please. You should be able to get out in the morning."
Amelia and I thanked the doctor and the second the door shut behind him, Amelia
burst into tears.
"Oh god Amelia. Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Amelia replied, trying to wipe away her tears. "I just can't wait for th
is night to be over. Why were you with Garrett?"
Oh god. Now was not the time to spill all my secrets. "I'll tell you later."
Amelia didn't protest. We sat in silence for the next ten minutes, me just stari
ng blankly at the floor and her sniffling.
Another knock resonated through the walls and I said "Come in."
The door opened up, revealing Ricky, Amelia's boyfriend, a haggard look on his f
ace. I stood up, giving her hand one more squeeze before excusing myself and hea
ding not, not wanting to intrude on their conversation.
Back in the waiting room, Garrett stared blankly at the phone in his hand, his h
ead propped up only by his other arm.
"Are you tired?" I asked wearily, dropping into the seat next to him.

"A bit. But I'm okay."

"Do you want to head home?"
Garrett looked at me, nodding his head yes. "Is Amelia okay?"
"Yeah. Her boyfriend just went in."
"That's good. Um, Kirsten? I have to say something."
"Sure. What's up?"
"This can't go on."
"What can't go on?" I asked with dread in my stomach.
"Our relationship. It won't work out. So even if we never official dated, I'm en
ding this, this, thing."
At that moment, my heart felt like it just torn into a hundred pieces. "What?"
"I'm breaking up with you. You're a burden to my life and you were getting annoy
ing." The detachment in his voice made me want to cry and scream at the same tim
e.
"How long have you wanted to?" I asked, my voice coming out in a whisper, grippi
ng the seat with my cold fingers, watching as an emotionless Garrett gave me a c
old look.
"Since around... three weeks."
"So... that date, Simba, you were trying to butter me up weren't you?" My voice
was getting steadily higher with every note and I ignored the glares I was getti
ng from other people.
Garrett gave a shrug, looking away from me. "You could call it that." His noncha
lance tore at my heart even more but I just stiffened and stood up.
But before I could say anything, I fell to my knees, a searing pain in my side a
lmost equivalent to my heart being torn out feeling ran through me, causing me t
o faint for the second time in an hour.
********************
Please vote if you were surprised, or super pissed at me and want the next chapt
er!
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Twenty-Seven
####################################
New chapter! I loved the votes on the previous one! Do the same this time? Prett
y please?
I actually had a lot of trouble trying to write this chapter and they're a quest
ion at the end that I hope you guys can answer for me!
Check out vanillanightsky's story Volleyball Princess! She's my new editor and h
er story is superb; deserves more reads and votes!

Also, thanks sooo freaking much for getting me to 500 fans and 100,000 reads! Tw
o of my milestones have just been so in honor of all of my marvelous readers, po
st a comment below with your book title and I'll be sure to check it out!
<3 Infatuated
********************
The next morning, I awoke to the sound of beeping and my mother flipping through
a gossip magazine, her heels tapping against the floor in a quick staccato, a b
ad habit she had whenever she was anxious or worried.
When she saw me open my eyes, my mother jumped up to her feet and hurried to my
bed, her wrinkles etching deep into her weary face.
"Thank God you're awake Kirsten. I was getting so worried." My mother said, gent
ly brushing away the hair on my forehead with her warm hand. I blinked groggily,
realizing that I was in the hospital, and that the pain in my ribs was gone.
"What happened?" I asked tiredly, my head falling back onto my pillow and my hai
r spilling out behind me. I remembered details. Garrett and I rescuing Amelia, A
dam being dragged unconsciously into the ER, Amelia telling me about her being d
ate raped, and Garrett telling me that it was over.
'What was over?' I wondered as my mother started describing in detail what had h
appened the night before. 'Garrett had once said that we were just friends, but
then what was up with the kisses, the glances, the promise to ask me out after t
he competition? Not to mention that he had said that he wanted to break up with
me when we weren't even a couple to begin with.' The phone call seemed strange a
s well but before I could dwell on it more, a couple of my mother's words divert
ed my attention back to her.
"You have a broken rib. I don't know how you managed to last so long last night
without medical attention. Then again your father...."
'I was completely numb. Of course I didn't notice the pain.' I thought to myself
, letting my mother talking about how my father had always been the fighter.
"But thank god you got out of there before you could of been slipped a bad drink
."
Exhausted and not in the mood of talking, I asked in a scratchy voice, "where's
everyone right now?"
"Well let's see. Mr. Bianchi and Yivanni came by earlier today and came to visit
, Garrett just left before you woke up and..."
The rest of my mother's words were zoned out as I focused on the fact that Garre
tt had just left. Everything seemed so confusing.
"What about Amelia?" I asked softly, propping my head against my pillow in a mor
e comfortable way so that I could focus on my mom's worried face.
"Your red-head friend? She's still in the next room down, resting up."
"And um... Adam?"
Immediately, my mother's face fell, clouding over, her eyes getting tired and sl
ightly wet and her mouth turned down in a frown.

"He's in Intensive Care right now. I think his right collapsed or something than
ks to Garrett."
Before I could say anything else, a soft knock echoed and a petite nurse walked
in with a clipboard, her face pleasant and almost superficial looking.
"Hi! Kirsten Bellini right? I need to take your pressure and check you up before
we can release you. It'll be quick, don't worry."
I grimaced at her over cheery disposition, wishing that her bright ray of sunshi
ne would go away and let me wallow in my gloom.
Letting her prod and poke me, I continued to stare at the white sheets, emotiona
lly and physically drained to the extent that I could care less about Adam or Ga
rrett. Especially Garrett. All I wanted to do was grab a box of chocolates and w
atch all the chick flicks I could find.
Wincing, I realized that that was what girls did when they were moping over a bo
y.
"Oh honey I'm sorry, did that hurt?" The nurse asked, an IV in her latex gloved
hand and a concerned yet happy look on her face.
"No, no, it's fine." I replied scratchily, wishing that my voice was as hollow s
ounding as the feeling on my inside.
"Alright. Well everything seems fine. Let me just go grab the doctor to check ou
t your ribs."
After she left, I drooped back into my bed, just wishing that everything would h
urry up and I could go.
"Are you okay sweetie? Do you need something to eat?" My mother asked, her voice
laced with motherly concern.
I nodded my head no. "Just tired."
"Well if it makes you feel any better, what you did deserves a wild round of app
lause. I could never of done what you did in a million years. You were so brave,
so strong, I'm just so proud that you did the right thing." Her sniffles made m
e look up just in time to see her wipe away a tear.
Suddenly, I felt horrible. I had gone out and done an irrational action that cou
ld of cost me my life or body while knowing that I was all that was left to my g
rieving mother other than a cat. How had I become so selfish?
"Oh my God mom, I'm so sorry." I whispered, reaching out a hand to pat my mother
's shoulder.
She looked up, patting her hair back in place, and gave me a wobbly smile. "For
what? For saving your friend from a criminal, learning how to be brave? Those ar
e all proper actions to take."
"No, for making you worry about..." I paused, thinking about me leaving her for
the school. "Everthing."
"Don't worry about it honey. You're safe now and that's all that matters. Really
."

She came over to me and gave me a hug, the familiar smell of lavendar making me
want to sob into her shirt, however, just as she released me, another knock on t
he door revealed the doctor that helped out with Amelia the night before.
"Ah Ms. Kirsten Bellini. It is good to see you up and running, figuratively."
I smiled weakly at his joke as he continued talking.
"Just one fractured rib. Not even broken. I must say you were very lucky."
"Thanks." I replied softly.
"He has a hard right hooker. Nearly got me in the stomach when I went to check u
p on him."
Guiltily, I looked at the doctor. "Did you get hurt?"
He laughed. "No, but I was close."
Thank God. That was one less person I had to feel guilty about.
"We stuck you in the hospital overnight because you had a low sugar and blood pr
essure probably from all the stress, adrenaline, and shock. I hear that Mr. Rams
ey is actually a criminal?"
I gulped, nodding slightly. "Yeah, he um, killed my father. Drunk driving. You k
now."
The doctor's eyes were friendly, softening a bit. "Yes, I know."
There was a pregnant pause before he said, "well, your vitals seem good and your
blood pressure is up. Keep on eating some Halloween candy and drinking more jui
ce, okay? Just sign here mom, and you're checked out."
Nodding, I shook his hand and watched him say some soft words of consolatation t
o my mother who was smiling and nodding her head. After he left, closing the doo
r softly behind him, she pulled out my bumble bee costume from a large bag.
"I'm assuming you don't want to wear this right?" She asked, flicking the attena
es of my head band.
"No." I replied, eyeing my costume in shame. It was covered in blood and dirt, r
ipped in numerous places. Overall, it was a reminder of something I wanted to fo
rget. "Please throw it away."
"Alright, well Garrett brought in a pair of jeans, a bra, and a t-shirt. I hope
that's okay with you.
Automatically, my stomach sunk at the thought of Garrett but I managed to smile
and not grimace at the fact that he chose a hot pink bra with a white lace shirt
and a pair of tight black jeans. First he has to break up with me after Amelia
is raped by my father's killer, then he has to dress me like I'm a cheap fifty c
ents whore. What did I ever see in him?
Gingerly, I got up, wincing at the feeling of my sore muscles screaming. Looking
down, I notice a massive bruise on my forearm, the ugly blotch all purple and b
lack.
"Here you go." My mother whispered, handing me my clothes. "I'll be out in the h
all if you need any help."

I tried to dress quickly, shedding the hospital shift in haste and putting on th
e tight jeans as fast as any not so skinny girl could. Throwing my hair up into
a ponytail, I looked into the mirror and groaned. My face was pale, blood not vi
sible in my cheeks, and my eyes looked empty, vacant.
Grabbing the bag with the bumble bee outfit, I ignored the pain in my body and s
lammed it into the trash can, not looking before I headed out, trying not to swa
y.
My mother hurried over, gripping my elbow. We slowly passed Amelia's room and I
stopped, looking at my mom.
"Do you have any plans today?" I asked.
"I was supposed to have a brunch with a couple of friends even though it's Frida
y." She said hesitantly, her hand not moving from my elbow.
"Well go ahead and enjoy it." I muttered, pushing her gently to the exit. "I nee
d to talk to Amelia and I don't need you to be my chauffeur. I'll call a taxi wh
en I'm done. Are you okay with that?"
Indecision flickered on her face but with one more gentle nudge from me, she fin
ally sighed and said, "call me when you get home?"
I nodded, half relieved to be on my own, and half in guilt. Knocking on Amelia's
door, I waited for her to say 'come in' before I gingerly entered her room.
Amelia looked much better than last night though she had a big bruise on her che
ek and on her arm like me. Her hair was tangled around her face, and there were
dark circles around her green eyes which were bloodshot.
Looking up from a People Magazine, she gave me a bright smile before placing it
on her mahogany nightstand.
"Hey you." I muttered quietly, sitting down onto a stool.
"Hello you. Damn, someone's not afraid to show off her body."
I blushed, ashamed that my slutty clothes were the first thing she noticed. "Yea
h well, some people just aren't very good at deciding what is the proper thing t
o wear going out of a hospital."
"Yeah, you'll give all the doctors heartattacks and who knows, maybe you'll have
to do mouth to mouth CPR on-"
"Oh shut up." I laughed.
Amelia sobered up, her eyes landing on the bruise on my shoulder. "Heard you got
a fractured rib."
"It doesn't hurt." I said, immediately wanting to comfort her.
"I'm sure it doesn't." She replied, looking up at me with a small smile on her f
ace. "But hey, thanks for saving me even though I don't remember anything."
"Still?"
She nodded sadly. "That's what that specific date rape drug does. I probably won
't ever retain my memory of that night. I heard you kicked ass though."

I raised an eyebrow. That didn't sound like anything a doctor would say.
"That's what Garrett told me at least." She muttered shrewdly.
I wanted to groan at the mention of his name.
"Okay come on Kirsten, spill! I want all the juicy little details. I'm bedridden
for god sake and incredibly sore. Just humor the cripple please."
Sighing, I realized that it was time to tell someone whether or not Garrett appr
oved. Because now? He couldn't tell me what to do and what not to do.
"What do you want to know?"
"First, are you in a relationship with him?"
Not anymore at least. "No."
She looked at me carefully. "Were you ever in a relationship with him."
"Now that's complicated." I muttered.
For the next thirty minutes, I spilled everything. Garrett's history, our relati
onship, Halloween night, the date. By the time I was done, I was in tears and Am
elia was trying to comfort me.
"Oh god, Kirsten. I'm so sorry. Really. That must really suck. It sounds like yo
u like him. A lot. And you have to live with him for another seven months? And y
ou're his sous chef? God. Do you know why he broke up with you?"
Shaking my head no, she sighed sympathetically. "That was you on the cover of Pe
ople last month right?"
This time, I nodded shakily, trying to control my breathing as I wiped away the
last of my tears.
"Damn guys. Just wait until I see him when I get out of this hellhole-"
"No please don't. I'm over it. Seriously." I pleaded.
"Fine, but if I ever see him in a dark alley alone, I'm going to kick his ass fo
r you." She muttered fiercely.
"Please keep it a secret. Please. I don't want anyone to know."
"I pinky swear but still if he ever comes across my path..."
"Amelia."
She gave me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright. But now I've told my story. It's your turn. What's going to happe
n between you and Ricky?"
Immediately, Amelia sobered up, plucking at the hem of her sheets. "We're still
together. He still loves me."
"But?" I asked, sensing that she was leaving something unsaid.

"His parents are kind of mad at me fore being irresponsible."

I looked at her baffled. "Amelia! It wasn't your fault. It was that bastards."
"Yeah but I'm still like spoiled goods. His parents are oldfashioned and Catholi
c. They don't really understand that Ricky and I have done 'the deed' before."
"Ew, ew, ew, I don't want to hear that." I muttered.
Amelia laughed a little before sobering up. "Oh well. All done is done. I won't
be back to school until November 15. Doctor's orders."
"Darn it." I muttered, giving her a sad look. "I'll have to do the work myself t
hen."
"I'm sorry." She whispered.
The mood in the room swiftly turned to sadness as we each dwelled in our own tho
ughts.
I took her cold hand. "It'll be alright. I'll visit you as often as possible, ok
ay?"
A tear escaped her eyes as she squeezed my hand back. "Okay."
********************
When I finally stepped into the fresh air, I was beyond exhausted. My side had t
aken to throbbing and my crying had left me empty and apathetic on the inside. W
atching the cab pull up to where I was, I could barely sit into my seat and tell
the cab where I was going.
Reclining into the seat, my mind plunged into my own thoughts.
'Would it have been a better decision to just have stayed at L'amore, caring for
my mother and living a normal life, not getting involved with the rich and famo
us? Would I have suffered through as much if I had chosen the other path? No it
couldn't have been worse.'
'I would still be living my life, a life that I wanted for myself. I would of ta
lked to Elle everyday, met new people at the restaurant, and tried to avoid Jack
son as much as possible.'
'But that was a lie. Everyday, I would of wondered what it would be like to lear
n from the top chefs of the world, to be on TV and let everyone see me as I cook
ed in a fervour. I would of regretted staying with my mother.'
Thinking about all the people I had met in my journey at the Bianchi Culinary In
stitute- Toben, Amelia, Harrison, Alonzo - I realized that I wouldn't have wante
d it to be any different even if I had to deal with a handsome prick who had jus
t broken my heart the night before.
After thanking the cab driver that kept on ogling my chest, I gave him a fifty,
slowly walking up the steps to the mansion, my muscles screaming in soreness and
pain. I dreaded having any confrontations with Garrett but with a sigh, I tried
to build up my courage to speak to him. Reaching the top, I was just about to o
pen up the door when my cell phone rang from my back pocket, surprising me and w
arming me heart for the second at the fact that Garrett thought to put my phone
in my jeans.

Looking down at the screen, half of me groaned at who it was while the other was
just a bit excited and looking forward to the conversation.
********************
So who do you think it is?
And also, do you think I should add a bonus chapter of Harrison's and Kirsten ea
rlier coffee date? (Remember that?)
Harrison kind of become a pretty important character so I thought it would be ki
nd of necessary but it's up to you guys!
Please please, remember to vote and comment. You guys made me so happy last time
when you gave me over 100 votes. Please do that again?
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Twenty-Eight
####################################
Please Read!
So the first half of this chapter will be the coffee
irsten which occured a few weeks before the present.
t of putting this into the story but then I realized
he plot. This is supposed to occur after Garrett and
oup kitchen, a couple days to be exact.

date between Harrison and K

Originally, I hadn't though
that it would be vital to t
Kirsten first kiss in the s

Do Not Skip This Chapter All Together! The last half will be the present time so
if you don't want to be confused, just keep on reading until about page 2ish.
VOTE VOTE VOTE! I appreciate alllll of your support!
<3 Infatuated
********************
(Harrison/Kirsten Date)
I hesitated outside of the cozy looking coffee shop, checking the address to mak
e sure that I was in the right place. Sucking in a deep breath, and coughing a l
ittle as the cold, night wind stun my throat, I straightened myself up and opene
d the door, enjoying the numerous smells floating towards me and the sound of be
lls ringing.
Looking around, I didn't spot Harrison at any tables so I went up to the order c
ounter and asked for a large vanilla latte and a lemon scone, trying to call my
nerves down in the process. I had actually talked to Garrett about my and Harris
on's casual date during the ride from the Mariam Soup Kitchen and although he se
emed fine with my friendly meeting with an old high school friend, I didn't want
Harrison to interpret my intentions in the wrong way.
Also, as silly as it sounded, I had hoped for at least a bit of jealousy to come
into Garrett's voice at the mention of a rendezvous with another guy. It made m
e wonder if he really cared enough.
Snagging a table next to the window revealing a darkening sky and several stars,
I relaxed into the comfy seats, taking off my hat and scarf, and folding it ont
o the corner of the table. Grabbing my latte and scone from the barista's hand,
I settled down and waited for Harrison to appear.

After a couple of minutes, I took out my phone and checked my unread text messag
es. Noticing one from an unfamiliar number, I opened it and smiled when I read w
hat was written.
'Hey Kirsten. Have fun! I miss you :) ~Garrett'
I smiled at the message, feeling warm from his words. Hitting the reply button,
I was so into writing something nice back that when someone tapped on the glass
of the window, I jerked up in surprise, looking to my right to see a smiling red
-nosed Harrison outside, waving.
Waving back, I tucked my phone back into my back pocket, taking a small sip of m
y scalding hot vanilla latte.
"Hey Kirsten. Funny seeing you here." Harrison said with a big grin on his face,
discarding his black leather jacket onto the back of the chair across from me.
"I know, right? What a coincidence." I replied, letting some sarcasm come into m
y voice.
"Don't be cheeky, it's an unattractive quality." He teased, shooting me another
smile before placing his order at the counter. After he got his hot chocolate, h
e slumped into the seat, looking blissfully happy with his drink.
"So, what's up?" I asked, swirling my latte around and looking down at my lemon
scone awkwardly.
"Nothing much really. Thought it would be fun to meet up with an old acquaintanc
e." Harrison muttered with a casual shrug.
"So where do you go to school now?" I asked curiously, looking at him, trying no
t to notice his slightly appealing, good looks.
"I attend Denver University. Working on a major in business with an emphasis on
sports."
I raised an eyebrow, impressed that he sounded so determined. "Well, why aren't
you at school right now?"
Harrison grimaced, "my classes usually start at five in the. Morning and the las
t one ends around four so I have time to work." He looked at my worried and guil
ty face before chuckling a bit, "don't worry, it's my day off."
"Do you still play tennis? You were really good. Last time I checked, your speed
for the first serve is still the state record.
His face immediately clouded over as he ran a hand through his hair. "Actually,
I haven't been playing since may."
Calculating the months that had passed, I realized that he hadn't played in near
ly half a year. "What happened?" I asked, giving him a concerned look, "you were
so passionate about your matches."
Sighing, he took a long swig of his hot chocolate before answering. "Um, car acc
ident. It tore some tendons in my right elbow so I was out for a couple months.
Now I'm just trying to survive and pay off the medical bills so I don't have tim
e to really hit around."
Harrison didn't seem like the type to want sympathy so I just said, "bummer. I w

as hoping to learn how to play from you."

His grin returned immediately as he stared down at me. "It's a date. Just name t
he time and place."
I gulped at the use of his word 'date'. "Um, yeah, totally. And then I can teach
you how to not burn water."
Groaning, he gave me a pathetic look. "I cannot believe you still remember that
incident from sophomore year. I swear, it was an accident. Seriously, I didn't m
ean to turn the wrong stovetop on. I actually am a pretty decent cook. My Ramen
tastes delicious."
I winced at his comment, gently punching him in the shoulder. "You are such a ba
chelor. Are your socks everywhere in your apartment and dirty dishes are in your
sink permanently?"
"Well, I don't have dishes to clean since I eat straight from the ramen bowl but
no there are no dirty socks. Just an malnourished, pretty attractive guy that c
ould be looking for company." He muttered, giving me a wink. Immediately, I thou
ght of Garrett's flirting, which seemed so similar to Harrison's, and I gulped n
ervously again.
"Well someone's not conceited." I muttered wryly, trying to hide my nerves.
Harrison laughed, then sobered up quickly. "So um Kirsten. Do you want to do thi
s again some time?"
"Listen Harrison..." I began, looking guiltily at my crumbling scone.
His sigh interrupted me. "Boyfriend?"
"Actually, sort of."
"Sort of? What guy would just 'sort of' be your boyfriend?"
Seeing the look on my face, he muttered, "sorry. He must be a really great guy f
or you to like in that way. Lucky bastard. Friends?"
I smiled weakly, taking his hand and shaking it. "Friends."
"So now it's time for me to cross examine you since you did the same with me. Wh
ere are you going to school?"
"The Bianchi Culinary Institute."
Harrison whistled, looking very impressed. "You weren't kidding when you said th
at you could cook. Damn, you must be really good in order to get into that schoo
l. Read once that it was the top institute in the nation. Crazy. Can I have your
autograph?"
I laughed as he extended a napkin towards me. "It's not that big of a deal. Real
ly."
"Sure, whatever. If you say so. Next question. How's your family doing? Your mom
was always so nice."
"My mom's fine. Um, my dad passed away two months ago."
His face immediately fell, giving me a comforting pat to the hand. "I'm sorry fo

r your loss. It must be really hard for you."

Shrugging, I gave Harrison a weak smile. "It's alright, I'm getting better."
"That's good. My tennis coach died of a heart attack right after I got into my c
ar accident so I guess I can sort of understand."
We were silent for a couple minutes, each of us thinking about our own losses un
til I muttered, "I'll go on another friendly gathering with you just as friends.
"
It had either been pity or sincerity that made me give my offer but immediately,
Harrison brightened up, shooting me a gorgeous smile. "It's a deal."
"So do you plan on staying in Colorado?" Harrison asked, continuing our conversa
tion as if nothing had happened.
I sighed, twisting my purity ring around my finger. "I want to, to support my mo
m and the restaurant, but at the same time it would be fun to explore the world.
Who knows though? I'll just have to see."
"Do you remember Mira Winters? She was in my grade."
"Yep I remember her." The iciness in my voice caused Harrison to raise an eyebro
w at me.
"Well she's apparently getting famous in New York though I don't know how. I sti
ll remember when she was flat chested and had a mouthful of braces. If only I ha
d taken a picture. It would of been good blackmail material."
"She could work at Hooters now." I muttered, chewing slowly. "Her boobs definite
ly touch the wall before her nose."
Harrison laughed. "Did you know that boob implants explode in planes?"
"No way."
"Hell yeah. It's really cool actually."
I gave him a withering looking and he cracked up again.
"I can't believe we're talking about this." I mumbled.
Looking at me intently, Harrison muttered, "well let's talk about something else
? Can I have your number?"
"For friendly purposes?" I asked warily, the memory of Jackson stalking me over
the phone making me want to squirm.
He looked at me seriously. "Of course. Why would I use it for any purpose other
than to talk to you?"
When I gave him another look, Harrison shook his head, chuckling loudly. "You're
so fun to tease Kirsten. It's cute. But seriously, if you ever want to talk or
need someone to talk to, I'll always be free to chat with you. Always."
After we exchanged number, Harrison got up and slipped on his jacket, giving me
an apologetic grin. "I have to go now. I'm going to go reopen my tennis memebers
hip."

I gave him a wide smile. "What convinced you?"

"A very attractive woman who dodges my flirting with finesse."
"I'll take that as a compliment." I teased, also standing up and putting on my s
carf and hat. "This was fun. Let's do it again soon."
When Harrison opened up his arms to give me a hug, I hesitated and he notice. "W
hat?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, "even a hug is off limits?"
Succumbing to his charms, I fell into his arms and hugged him for a brief second
before pulling away. Harrison seemed captivated by my eyes, his never leaving m
y face, before he muttered softly, "once you and your sort of boyfriend are sort
of not dating anymore, give me a call, will you?"
********************
(Present time)
I smiled softly at my caller id, picking up my phone and muttering, "Hey Elle, w
hat's up?"
Her shrill voice rang poorly through my speaker as I awkwardly opened up the man
sion door and stepped inside. "Damn it, Kirsten, what the hell happened to you?
Your mom called a couple minutes ago and wouldn't give me the damn details!"
Holding my phone away from my ears, I smiled wryly at my best friend's obvious c
oncern. "I'm fine Elle. Can I call you back?"
She huffed. "Fine but you better call fast!"
Hanging up, I headed up the familiar stairs but only managed to slowly get up a
couple before a voice below me cause me to look down and pause.
"Oh Honey, are you alright?" Yivanni asked, hurriedly walking up the stairs and
engulfing me into a hug. "Garrett told me everything. Oh you are so brave my dea
r."
"Um, thank you." I managed to reply, giving her a watery smile. "I'm okay now th
ough. Just a little sore and tired." And heartbroken, I added mentally.
"Oh my. Well I'll let you rest up. It should be very quiet today. Both Garrett a
nd Robert are teaching and it's only me and the maids. Take a nap and feel bette
r honey."
Wanting to cry because of the woman's concern and gentleness, I nodded and proce
eded up the rest of the stairs, shakily.
Reaching my room, I twisted the doorknob open slowly, dumping my bag onto the fl
oor and racing to my closet, discarding my uncomfortable clothes and pulling on
my familiar fleece sheep pjamas. Tucking myself into bed, I redialed Elle's numb
er, only having to wait one ring before she picked up.
"Spill Kirsten. I've been so worried."
"First off, why aren't you in class?" I asked sleepily.
"It's Saturday. I don't have any classes on Saturday."
Sighing, I 'spilled all'. "Well last night, my friend got raped by Adam Ramsey."

"No, not the Adam Ramsey."

"Yes, that Adam Ramsey." I muttered bitterly.
"Oh damn, Kirsten. I'm so sorry. That must sting."
"Just a little." I muttered dryly, picking off the lint on my pj's.
"I'm so sorry honey. Are you physically alright?"
"Just a fractured rib and a bruise on my shoulder. I'll live."
"Thank god. You do not know how stressed out I've been. I haven't talked to you
in ages. And then your mom calls and... and..." Elle's voice cracked over the ph
one and I could tell that it wasn't the bad reception causing the pauses.
"I'm alright. Seriously. Though I do have a question."
"Ask away." Elle muttered with a couple of sniffs.
"How do you get over heartbreak?"
There was a long, pregnant pause before Elle said anything.
"Wait, did this friend of yours die or something?"
"No Elle, not that kind of heart break. You know, that heartbreak... with a guy.
.. love... hello? What have you done to my romance expert best friend?"
"Are you telling me that you have a boyfriend?" Elle shrieked.
"Elle, listen to the word heartbreak." I said softly, tears whelming up into my
eyes.
"Oh shit. You mean ex-boyfriend?"
"Yeah."
"Damn it what's his name? I'm searching for airplane tickets and I'm going to co
me and beat the crap out of this buster."
"Elle..."
"To be truthful Kirsten... I'm not too good with the whole 'serious relationship
slash heartbreak' thing. You know me, I have a fling then I move on. I've never
really gotten romantically attached to anybody as sad as it sounds."
Was that what I was? Attached to Garrett?
"Alright Elle."
"Wait, before you hang up, can I ask who this guy is?"
I swallowed hard, mentally debating whether or not I should tell her. With a sig
h, I muttered quietly, "you have to promise not to tell a single soul Elle. It's
Garrett Bianchi."
There was an even longer pause as Elle digested this information. "Damn girl, yo
u got it hard. My advice honey? Go sleep with the first guy you find; one that i

s more attractive and nicer to you."

Immediately my mind shifted to an image of Harrison standing next to me at the H
alloween party; then I blushed, banishing that thought from the recesses of my m
ind.
"Yeah. That would work." I said dryly.
"I don't know Kirsten! I don't know. I'm sorry." Elle sounded like she was on th
e verge of tears and I quickly tried to comfort her.
"It's alright Elle. Thank you for just talking to me. It means so much that you
care. I got to go now, i m getting kind of tired. I'll call you later okay? Get
the scoop on your love life?"
"Sure." Elle muttered sadly.
"Love you bestie." I said.
"Love you too."
Once we hung up I stared at the phone in my hand; then hesitantly, I flipped thr
ough my contacts and landed on one, thinking for a moment before pressing the ca
ll button.
I waited nervously until it went to voice mail.
"Hey thanks for calling and making me feel popular! Leave a message and I'll try
to respond if you're important enough!"
Hearing Harrison's funny voice mail, I cracked a small smile then clear my voice
when I heard the standard beep.
"Hey Harrison. It's Kirsten. Call me maybe? It's kind of important."
After hanging up, I pondered my decision to call Harrison. Before I could think
too much about it, I flipped over and fell asleep.
********************
VOTE & COMMENT!!!
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Twenty-Nine
####################################
New chapter! Sorry for the late update. California's fun but I miss writing my b
utt off and waiting eagerly for your votes and comments. But please do vomment a
nd give me feedback!
<3 Infatuated
********************
The feeling of saliva being rubbed all over my face woke me up an hour after I l
eft the voice mail for Harrison. Sitting up groggily, I sleepily rubbed my eyes
and looked around to see what had caused the on slaughter of spit that was all o
ver my hands and face. Looking down, I smiled softly as Simbah gave a small dog
howl, blinking up at me with an adorable look on his puppy face.

The memory of Garrett telling me that he had bought Simbah to soften the blow of
our breakup ran through my head making me want to either turn into a sobbing me
ss or take out my anger on a brick wall. Instead, I decided to suck it up and re
member that it wasn't the little Scottie's fault that he had been dragged into m
y mess.
Bending down, I picked him up, ignoring the dull ache in my ribs that made me wa
nt to lie back down into my red sheets. Stroking the top of his head, my lip cur
led up in disgust as I realized that his fur was oily and covered in chocolate.
"How the hell did you get chocolate sauce on yourself?"
I jumped up in haste, trying to untangle the sheets from my legs as I ran to the
bathroon, hurriedly turning on the light and staring into the mirror. My face w
as covered in chocolate syrup, smeared over my eyebrows and covering my left che
ek with a small pawprint on my right, the obvious culprit wriggling in my arms i
n delight.
"Damn it." I swore with a groan. "Buddy, it looks like we're going to have to wa
sh you off."
Before I headed into the showers, Simbah tied to my bedpost so he couldn't run a
way and make a bigger mess anywhere else, I picked up my phone, hoping that Harr
ison had replied with a text or voicemail.
My smile grew bigger as I clicked the voicemail, sinking into my bed while avoid
ing contacting anything silk with my face, as I listened to Harrison's comfortin
g and familiar voice.
"Hey Kirsten, got your message. Do you want to meet up today? I'm off work since
Halloween was so hectic. Lunch or coffee or something? Call me back."
With new resolve and a calmer state of mind, I redialed his number and waited en
rvously for him to pick up. Twirling a strand of hair around my finger and messi
ng with my shirt with my other hand, I breathed out a sigh of relief when he ans
wered.
"Hello?"
"Hey Harrison, it's Kirsten." I said quietly.
"Kirsten! What's up?"
"I got your message. Thanks for replying so soon. I fell asleep so I couldn't pi
ck up your call."
Harrison chuckled on the other end, making me want to burst into tears. His laug
hter sounding so similar to Garrett's, though it may have been my reception's fa
ult. "No problem. You sounded tired and sad and plus, you're very important in m
y eyes. So, do you want to meet up so we can chat?"
Looking down at Simbah as he began to bark, an idea began to grow in my head. "H
ey, do you want to meet up at the Waggin' Tails next to King Soopers in a hour?"
"The pet shop? Um... sure, I'll see you there." He muttered, curiosity evident i
n his voice.
I grinned though he couldn't see it, patting the side of Simbah's face. "Awesome
. See you there."

After we both hung up, I gave Simbah an air kiss. "Thanks for the inspiration Bu
ddy. Now, about that bath..."
An hour later
ve to Waggin'
rash bag that
no way I was

after I was clean and refreshed, my hair drying in the wind, I dro
Tails, occasionally scolding Simbah for hopping off the piece of t
I had forced him to sit in due to his sticky appearance. There was
getting Yivanni's Mercedes dirty with chocolate sauce.

When I finally parked the flashy black car in the nearly empty parking lot, Harr
ison was leaning against the hood of his Volkswagen, looking cool and collected
wearing a nice v-neck vanilla sweatshirt and dark washed jeans. Simbah started b
arking excitedly and with a rustle, hopped out the open window, making me panic
and unbuckle my seat belt and chase after him.
"Damn it, Simbah." I cursed when my hands came away from his muzzle covered in g
rass and chocolate while hearing Harrison's chuckle.
Standing up, I huffed, wiping the stickiness in a baby napkin. "Thanks for comin
g Harrison. It means a lot."
"No problem." He said with ease, grabbing my puppy and holding him in his arms,
not minding the mess Simbah was.
"Don't do that. You'll get your sweatshirt dirty."
Harrison merely shrugged flashing me a bright smile as we headed towards the ent
rance of Waggin' Tails. "Not a big deal. It's an old ratty sweatshirt anyways. C
ome on in you go. I'm assuming we're washing this dog? Because if we aren't, I h
ighly suggest you do."
Laughing, I opened the door to the grooming store, welcoming the smell of shamp
oo and dog treats. "Are you a mind reader?"
"No, I just have the ability to feel the chocolate and greasy bag of fur in my a
rms." he replied easily.
I winced, suddenly gloomy about the fact that I had paid Simbah less attention t
han I should have, mainly because I had been moping over Garrett's changed attit
ude to me. "Yeah, well, here we are. Let's get to work."
Grabbing a plastic tub and a bottle of nice smelling dog shampoo, we headed out
to the back where it was empty except for a smoker and set everything down.
"So are you doing the washing or am I?" Harrison asked, rolling up his sleeves.
I grimaced, imagining the mess that Simbah always made when he took baths. "If y
ou don't want to have a shower and smell like dog, I suggest standing one hundre
d meters away."
"Ah, whatever. It's not like I'm busy anyways. I'll help."
My heart warmed as Harrison grabbed the hose and set the squirming dog gently in
to the tub.
"Well, let the fun begin." I muttered as Harrison turned on the hose.
One minute later, both Harrison and I were soaking wet as Simbah bounced around
us, barking excitedly.
"Oh that little brat." I grumbled good natured.

Harrison cracked up again as Simbah left dirty little paw prints on my t-shirt,
me with sopping wet hair and Harrison in no better condition.
As I turned away to set Simbah down, I was surprised to see him strip off his sw
eatshirt, dumping it on the ground, only wearing a see through white wife beater
. Blushing, I fixed my hair and turned on the hose, trying to ignore Harrison as
he came over and started scrubbing the Scottie behind the ears.
"Well, this is entertaining." Harrison muttered as I wrestled with the dog, my s
hirt and jeans sopping wet with soap and oily water. "Here, give me the damn dog
."
"Thanks." I replied with a gulp, trying to avoid staring at his chest as I passe
d over Simbah. Since Harrison was just as wet, I could see his quite attractive
abs which were defined as the soaked fabric clung to his tan skin.
"Damn it." I thought angrily as I wrung out the towel. "Garrett just declared hi
s undying revulsion and hate to me. Shouldn't I be more upset before drooling ov
er another man's chest?"
Guilt replaced my frustration as my ribs started aching again, a constant remind
er of Halloween night and the moment when Garrett told me that he didn't like me
in the same way that I had like him.
"Well, look like this little boy's done." Harrison interrupted my thoughts, sett
ing down the leashed and quiet Simbah.
When I looked up, a fiery blush erupted on my face as I noticed that Harrison ha
d taken off his white wifebeater as well, leaving him with a very nice, naked ch
est for me not to stare at. Looking away quickly, I carried the tub to the bushe
d and dumped out the water.
"Uncomfortable seeing me not wearing a shirt?" Harrison asked, closer than I exp
ected, causing me to jump and drop the tub. Watching it roll away, I refused to
look into his eyes.
"Um, of c-course not. Why would I be?"
"You liar liar, pants on fire."
"My butt is not on fire."
"But it sure is hot." Harrison replied teasingly.
Slapping his chest slightly, I ran after the tumbling tub, glad to not be so suf
focatingly close to Harrison.
"Hey, Kirsten, I was joking. Kirsten. Seriously. We're just friends, I get it."
He muttered apologetically, grabbing onto my arm and hoisting the tub over his s
houlder.
Before I could reply, a Waggin' Tails employee spotted Harrison and me.
"Young man." The old woman shouted furiously, stomping over to where we were. "N
o shoes, not shirt, no service! What are you trying to do? Create a distraction?
"
Hysterical laughter bubbled up in my chest but I managed to restrain it with a s
mall grimace as she shooed us and the dog away, Harrison scrambling to put his c

lothes back on.

********************
Digging around in my truck, I finally extracted some old clothes for Harrison fo
und at the very recess of my trunk. My chest hurt from laughing so hard as Harri
son glared at me, pink tinging his tan cheeks.
"Here, take these and go change in the bathroom where the psycho old lady can't
see you." I ordered, slamming the trunk door closed.
He nodded his thanks and headed to the shop again as I entered my car, turning o
n the heater and snuggling in to my sweater. November chill had finally caught u
p in Colorado and some of the water on Simbah's back had frozen into clear drop
lets, the poor guy shivering in the towel that I gave him. I wanted to childishl
y stick out my tongue and tell him "I told you so", but instead just smiled and
ruffled the unruly hair on his neck.
Minutes later when Harrison reappeared in my friend's old sweats and his sweatsh
irt that had been blown dry, I started the engine, nervousness making my hands s
hake slightly.
"So, what's up, Kirsten?" Harrison asked, closing the door behind him and bringi
ng in the smell of soap of figurative comfort.
Sighing, I took one deep breathe before spilling all. My strange relationship wi
th Garrett; Amelia and the rape; and my father's death.
To my immense surprise, Harrison stayed silent as I relayed the horrifying event
s that occurred in the past two months; either from patience or horror, I couldn
't tell.
When I was done, my breathing was coming out rapidly and my hands clutched the d
riving wheel so tightly that my arms were shaking from the effort.
All Harrison did was whisper, "Oh Kirsten," and comfort me with a long hug that
made the tears start falling.
VOTE!!!!!
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Thirty
####################################
VOTE!

When I finally stopped crying, blowing my nose on one of Harrison's tissues, the
brunette just rubbed my back and waited for my sob fest to finally finish.

"God, Kirsten, I'm so sorry for everything that has happened to you in the past
week. Does your side hurt right now?"

Good ol' Harrison, always working on the trivial things first before moving on t
o the reality TV impersonation part of my life.

"It's a lot better." I replied shakily, brushing my hair out of my face and patt
ing Simbah on the head who had hopped from the back seat into Harrison's leg.

Instead of what I had expected from Harrison, an uncomfortable silence, awkwardn

ess, and apathy, he seemed to really care about my well being.

"I'm sorry, I'm such a mess right now."

Harrison's blue eyes widened and his expression turned stricken as he wiped away
another tear from my cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"Remember what I told you at the Halloween party before I left? If you ever need
me, I'll be here waiting. And I'm not talking about the whole romantic relation
ship dilemma I have going on. I mean if you ever need a hug or a shrink to talk
to, I'm your man."

I grinned and ruffled the top of Harrison's hair. "What's this about a whole rel
ationship dilemma?"

Harrison mock groaned trying to reorganize his hair. "I give you a whole speel o
n being there for you and all you pick up is my relationship issues?

"Trust me, I heard everything else. And I thank you for that. But don't stray of
f the topic. Who's the lucky girl?"

His grin turned into more of a grimace as he muttered, "Well this doesn't seem l
ike the most opportune time to confess me liking her after she just confessed to
me her former proscriptive relationship with another guy."

My eyes widened as realization hit me like a stack of bricks. "Oh shit, Harrison
, I didn't mean to throw you into all of this and- Oh God, I feel so guilty now.
I'm such a bad person and-"

I buried my head into my hands, leaning into my seat and away from him.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. I really don't mind. Now that I know you're single, I'l
l just wait until you're ready."

"It's not just that." I whispered, staring listless ahead as some of the Waggin'
Tail workers chased down a black Rottweiler. "I feel guilty because I liked Gar
rett so shouldn't I wait until I move on to another guy that I really, really li
ke?"

Harrison's eyes widened with glee and I realized my mistake. "You like me back?"

"Well yes, but that's beside the point."

"Well explain what the point is beside the girl that I really like likes me back
?"

"The fact that I also like Garrett! I can't string you along with all your hopes
and dreams while I get over another guy. It makes me feel so selfish and horrib
le. It feels like I'm a needy brat who wants everything! Garrett and I, well it'
s complicated, and with you it's so much easier. Do you understand?"

Harrison grasped my shoulders and pulled me into a long hug, rubbing my back as
I clutched the back of him neck, too tired to cry any longer.

"Let's keep talking when we go have a snack okay? I don't want the Waggin' Tail
lady to yell at me for public displays of affection. My back stings from where s
he hit me with a wet towel. Old people, I tell you. Can't appreciate a nice body
when they come across one."

I giggled and stuck Simbah in the back again, petting him one more time before s
tarting the engine of the Mercedes and watching Harrison get out of my car and h
ead to his.

"Where to?" I shouted after him.

Ten minutes later, we were sitting in Jason's Deli, sharing a pastrami and chedd
ar jack cheese sandwich while I continued to pour out my woes.

"Don't get me wrong Harrison, I really do like you. You're funny, incredibly nic

e, and knows how to cheer me up. But I just feel like it's too soon for me to re
ally like anyone right now. What's wrong with me? Garrett just broke my heart tw
o nights ago! I sound like such a whore right now."

Harrison looked at me with a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. "What s

hit are you talking about now? Blaming yourself for the way Garrett treated you?
Blaming yourself for liking me? Sure, few can resist me, but seriously Kirsten?
Stop felling so guilty. It isn't your fault. Remember what I told you. I will a
lways, I repeat, always be there for you. Even if you break my heart ten times,
I will not stop supporting you."

Not wanting to cry in front of twenty other people, I just sighed and gave Harri
son a wobbly smile

"You're right. But I always want to tell you this. Don't be guilty if you ever g
ive up on me."

Harrison looked completely serious as he looked at me with his gentle blue eyes.
"Are you kidding me? I haven't given up on you since senior year."

My train of thought stopped as I looked at him, shocked. "You what?"

Harrison never stopped looking at me as he said the words again. "I haven't give
n up on you since senior year."

"Y-you liked me?" I stuttered, unable to process it in my head.

"Hell yeah. I liked you a lit. Especially when you were dating Jake Varess. I wa
s at Homecoming you know. When I saw Mira and him dancing."

I smiled dryly. "Well that was most definitely a mistake in my life."

Harrison patted my hand. "Life's full of mistakes. It just takes yourself to fig
ure out the ones that were supposed to be lessons."

*********************

I got home at around five in the afternoon after spending time with Harrison. Si
mbah squirmed in my arms as I tried to take of f my shoes, and with a sigh, I le
t him run off to some unknown place.

The smile on my face that had crept on when Harrison gave me a kiss on the foreh
ead didn't retreat, not when a guy gave me the birdie on the way home or when Si
mbah accidently scratched me with one of his nails.

Putting my ballet flats in the closet, I turned and froze just as Garrett turned
around the corner and nearly knocked me over.

"God, I'm sorry, I didn-" He trailed off when he saw me, his grey eyes automatic
ally hardening and his hand dropping down to his side.

Immediately, my smile slipped off as I tried to edge my way around him, the pain
in my heart making me want to run, not just walk. I needed to either run into h
is arms or run in the opposite direction, me choosing the latter immediately.

"Kirsten... Kirsten!" Garrett shouted behind me as I started to flee in the othe

r direction. Pausing, I looked behind my shoulder at him.

"Um, well, dinner's about to start." He muttered lamely, looking down at his bla
ck shoes.

I didn't know what to say; instead I tried to ignore him and walk up the stairs
but the smell of his soap made me want to pause.

Taking a deep breath, I looked at him straight in the eyes. "Thanks for telling
me."

For some reason, the sight of him closing off too me hurt more than the jagged s
cratch on my arm or the dull ache in my ribcage.

Dinner could easily have been classified as awkward. Mr. Bianchi didn't say anyt
hing as usually and Yivanni seemed ignorant of the tension between myself and Ga
rrett, talking about school and random news that I tried to politely zone out. I
stared at the pieces of pork I had mindlessly cut, avoiding eye contact with an
yone at the table and only speaking when Yivanni asked me a question.

When I found a proper time, I excused myself from the table and headed up the st
airs.

Harrison had sent me a text message was the first thing I noticed when I closed
the door to my bedroom. Smiling softly, I replied.

"I'll take you up on your offer to teach me tennis."

Sitting down at my desk, I restlessly checked the news and my email until I pull
ed up a blank word document and started typing.

The boys of my life: Pros & Cons

Staring at the screen for a second, I sighed, and then began to form my list.

Garrett: Pros include he can be sweet, does care for me, is physically attractiv
e. Cons is he doesn't like me in return

Harrison: Pros include he's sweet, funny, he cares for me, and he likes me back.
Cons include...

My list stopped there as I looked at Harrison's cons. So far, he didn't seem to

have any.

I sighed again, turning off my laptop and heading to bed, wondering in my mind w
hether or not I was about to make the right decision.
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Thirty-One
####################################

Out of the next two weeks of me dodging Garrett, hearing Amelia go on about her
relationship with Ricky, and listening to Alonzo and Angela make out in the corn
er of the kitchen whenever we were practicing for the international Culinary Art
s Festival, the only ray of sunshine that I could find would have to be hanging
out with Harrison. Ever since I spilled everything about my life, he just seemed
to have accepted being my friend and continuously tried to cheer me up with ran
dom 'dates' and such.

Which was why I was standing on a tennis court nervously watching as Harrison to
ssed a yellow tennis ball into the air and whacking it straight towards me, the
ball looking as if it was traveling at five hundred miles per second.

"Gah! I can't do this." I muttered, laughing as the ball whizzed by me.

Harrison joined my laughing, hopping over the net with ease and running over to
where I stood.

"I see you're a lost case. Don't worry. I won't be so much better in the kitchen
. Do you want to go another round of me serving and you standing? Or are you rea
dy to call it a day?"

I looked down at my watch, grimacing at the numbers. Tonight, being Thanksgiving

, my mother had been invited for a huge Thanksgiving dinner and what seemed like
two hundred other people. Although it was only the four and the party started a
t six, the invitation that I been handed, yes handed, stated that it would be a
black tie event, meaning no tennis skirts or sweat allowed.

"I would love to stand around and increase my probability of being hit by a yell
ow comet, but I really got to head out. Big, important Thanksgiving dinner tonig
ht."

Harrison's smile faded a bit as he watched me walk off the court, a brief sadnes
s falling across his features, but before I could analyze it, he broke out into
another grin.

"I wish you all the luck then."

Throwing Harrison a fleeting smile, I zipped up my coat and handed him the racke
t I had been using, hesitating before giving him a big hug.

"I hope you have fun with your family?"

"Yeah." Was it just me or was his voice tight and a little cold?

"What's wrong?" I asked, looking up at him as he wiped his forehead with a towel
.

"Hm? Nothing. Do you need a ride home?"

Taking note that he was completely avoiding the topic, I only nodded and grabbed
my bag, waiting for Harrison to finish packing up. His family must be a sensiti
ve subject for him.

Once we were settled in the car, Harrison turned on the radio, shooting me a sma
ll smile before starting the engine and driving out of the parking lot. We were
both silent, him focusing on his driving and me listening to some song about tur
key and stuffing.

"So what are you doing tonight?" I asked casually, looking outside as a couple o
f snowflakes fell from the sky and twirled down to the ground.

His grip on the steering wheel seemed to tighten as his knuckles turned white. "
Probably just chilling at home, watch a movie or two. Nothing compared to a blac
k tie dinner."

I chuckled dryly as we turned onto the highway, visibility decreasing as the sno
w flew in flurries, hitting the car and melting. Harrison cursed under his breat
h as he turned on the windshield wipers and that was when I noticed his hands we
re shaking slightly. The topic of my dinner tonight disappeared as I looked at h
im, worried.

"Harrison? Your hands are shaking. Are you okay?"

Harrison didn't look away from the road, his shoulders stiff as he slowed down t
he car. "Fine, fine."

I knew that someone who was fine would not have been shaking or deathly pale, so
to get his attention, I grabbed his right arm. "Harrison, seriously, what's wro
ng?"

As the snow started to slow down and become small flakes instead of big clumps,
he relaxed slowly, leaning back into the driver's seat and taking a deep breath
that seemed to make the shaking stop.

"Sorry about that." He finally said as we stopped at a red light.

"What happened back there?" I asked, my concern dwindling and my annoyance start
ing to rear its ugly head. "You didn't reply to me. You were shaking and stiff.
Are you sure you can continue driving.

Harrison gave me a weak smile before we turned onto my street. "I'm fine. I just
uh, don't like driving in the snow. Sometimes it freaks me out."

As we stopped in front of the mansion, I bit my lip from saying anything else. A
lthough Harrison and I were really close, thanks to being around each other for
so long, I didn't really know who he was as a person. Sure, I knew where he went
to school and that he played tennis, but while he knew about my father's death
and my life, I didn't know if he had siblings or what his mom's name was.

"Thanks for the ride." I muttered quietly, unlocking the door. Before I could fu
lly open it, Harrison's hand shot forward and he gripped my arm gently. I closed
my eyes, remembering how Garrett used to do that all the time.

"Hey, don't be upset Kirsten. I promise I will tell you what's up with me later
okay? Have fun."

I managed to smile at him and he in return, gave me a pat on the back and a huge
grin. Taking my bag out, I shut the door softly, ignoring the wind and watched
Harrison drive off in his car.

Turning, I headed up the long driveway.

"Thank god you're home." Were the first words out of my mother's mouth as I ente
red the mansion, shucking off my boots and dropping my bag with a thump. "You st
ill need to get ready!"

Trying not to roll my eyes, I hugged my mom, taking a big whiff of her Chanel pe
rfume. She had just landed last night and because I was with Harrison all mornin
g and afternoon, I had only managed to say hi to her at breakfast.

"I'm sorry mom. I didn't realize it was so late until I checked my watch but, I'
ll go dress right now!"

Heading up the stairs, I glanced down at my watch again, really rolling my eyes
as I noticed the time. I still had well over one hour until the first guest woul
d even start driving.

Not looking up, I jogged up the stairs, hurriedly untangling my scarf before I n
oticed a pair of polished, black shoes heading down in the other direction.

"Oof." I muttered, running into something warm, solid, and black. Looking up, my
eyes widened as I nearly tripped back down the stairs, Garrett's hand around my
waist the only thing preventing me from tumbling down.

"Watch out." Garrett muttered softly, his voice husky as he looked down at me wi
th an amused smile on his face. I stammered something unrecognizable as he passe
d but he didn't even turn to look at me as I made awful noises in the back of my
throat.

What was up with him? Usually when I accidently ran into him, his eyes would wid
en and he always looked like he was about to say something; but today? He barely
acknowledged my existence.

Brushing it off, I entered my room with a huff, mentally berating myself for act
ing like such a fool in front of him. Yanking the pretty creamy vanilla dress of
f the hanger, I slammed the bathroom door and started getting ready.

After I had finished putting on the floor length dress and red shoes that accomp
anied it, I scrambled around my bedroom, trying to find my gold bracelets, barel
y noticing as someone entered my room quietly.

"Boo." He muttered and I looked at him, startled, before breaking out into a hug
e smile, at who it was.

"Toben!'I nearly shouted as I attempted to run to him in my shoes, nearly trippi

ng over the hem of my silky dress in my haste.

"Whoa there. Now don't be too eager lassie." Tonight, it looked like he was goin
g for a Texan accent, although I did have to admit it would sound real to strang
ers. Tonight, his bronze curls were slicked back, making him look like a model f
or Vogue Italia, and his brown eyes shone with excitement.

"Nice outfit." I commented, admiring his tuxedo matched with a bright orange bow
that made traffic cones coral.

"You too. Although now I see why I was sent up here."

When I looked at him blankly, he chuckled, shaking his head. "I see my past mont
h's absence has not changed you at all. I need to do your makeup and something w
ith that hair."

Thirty minutes later, Toben finally spun me around, letting me admire the way I
looked in the mirror.

My white dress was retied by Toben, the old fashion ribbon corset, tight enough
for me to have some cleavage but not too much. The dress flowed down to my feet
where my dark burgundy toenails were drying, meticulously done by, yep you guess
ed it. Toben had gone for a smoky eye shadow and dramatic red lipstick that made
me look like an old Hollywood star.

Groaning, I tried to turn around and give my gay friend a hug. "I don't know wha
t I would do if I didn't have you. Where were you during my prom?"

"You're saying that to the wrong person."

I gave Toben a glare as he took a seat next to me.

"This impending conversation is going to sound like dj vu, isn't it?"

It had been approximately three months since I sat in the same chair, listening
with horror as Toben told the story of Garrett's tragic life. With a sinking sto

mach, I realized that I was about to be reprimanded by a cowboy wearing a neon b

ow.

"I just want you to remember the shit he's gone through and to remember that Gar
rett's likes to have his guard up because he's really nave on the inside. That's i
t. Just remember those words and I will die a happy man."

I gave him a skeptical look as he stopped talking. "That's it?"

I knew that Toben was hiding something from me from the way he kept on shifting
in his seat, but let it go, offering my hand to him. It was time to face the bla
ck tie dinner.

"Lead the way."

To be brutally honest, I was beyond nervous as I descended the stairs, gingerly

walking so that I wouldn't rip my beautiful dress to shreds. Toben led me gently
to several groups of people, his easy going charm allowing me to just stand nex
t to him and smile whenever anyone looked in my direction.

Finally, we stopped at one group and I froze, reluctantly moving when Toben gave
me a not so gentle tug.

"Hi everyone!" Toben muttered chirpily, throwing the group a huge, dazzling smil
e that made me go blind for a second.

Everyone but Garrett nodded; instead, he continued conversing with a strikingly

beautiful ginger that stood by his side, laughing at something she said. Immedia
tely, my heart tightened and I felt like puking when I saw how low the woman's b
lack dress was but then I looked away, instead focusing my attention on what Tob
en and an elderly man were talking about.

When I discovered that they were conversing about the weather, I grimaced inward
ly but put a smile on my face, accepting a glass of champagne from one of the nu
merous waiters. If only the night could already be over with.

By ten minutes later, Yivanni had still not called for the guests to seat at the
dining room table, so I excused myself from Toben's conversation and walked to
the kitchen where the commotion seemed to be less. Avoiding the few chefs that w
ere just decorating the dishes, I headed to the pantry, trying to get away from

the crowd.

Instead, when I opened up the door, I jerked back, spilling champagne on myself
when I saw Alonzo and Angela making out with a passion, their hands all over the
place that I swear each had two pairs.

"Um, hey guys." I muttered, suddenly wanting to cry. "What's up?"

*********************

Um guys, could you please vote for this chapter and the previous one? It would b
e great if you could.
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Thirty-Two
####################################
This is a long chapter in my opinion, and a very big twist, actually maybe five
very big twists, so I expect every one of you to vote if you were surprised and
now angry, Please just vote, lol.
CHECK OUT MY NEW STORY How To Be A Disney Princess! I SWEAR YOU WON'T REGRET IT!
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********************
Both Alonzo and Angela blushed red to the tips of their hair roots, hastily, unt
angling their hands from inappropriate places and smoothing out their clothes. A
ngela was wearing a gorgeous black dress with a ruffled heart bodice and gold st
itches lined the slit that ended mid thigh. Alonzo looked dashing as usual in hi
s black vest and dress pants, though his hair was a bit unruly from his previous
actions.
"I'm s-so sorry for um, interrupting." I stuttered, embarrassed, trying to wipe
off the champagne that had gotten on my arm. "I'll let you two con-"
"Actually, we were just about to head to the dining room." Angela interrupted, f
ixing her gold necklace and shooting me a charming smile as her blush faded to a
light pink. "Come on Alonzo."
Together, we walked back down the hallway to where laughter and the sound of gla
sses clicking rang through the air. Angela handed me a tissue, which I took grat
efully, and leaned in closer to me. "I don't really like black tie parties. They
're just so ugh. When Garrett's parents aren't home, his parties are definitely
the best."
Garrett, a wild boy? I felt resigned as I realized the majority of what I knew a
bout Garrett came from other sources, like his friends or the tabloids.

"Hey, don't look so down. They weren't crazy parties or anything. Just less... i
ffy than this one. Speaking of Garrett, how are you and him doing?" Angela asked
as we entered the dining hall, just in time to see some people heading to the d
ining table.
"Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow in her direction, appalled that Angela knew som
ething about our 'relationship'.
Angela rolled her brown eyes, shooting Alonzo a smile, who was busy asking a wai
ter for another flute of champagne, before pulling me aside. "Don't play dumb Ki
rsten, I've seen you guys shoot each other googly eyes all the time when we're p
racticing for ICAF."
"Used to." I corrected her, placing my empty champagne glass on a tray, not want
ing to pretend that Garrett and I hadn't had an infatuation period.
Angela's face fell as she took in my words. "Damn, that sucks big time. Who brok
e it off with who?"
I lowered my voice a little as we entered the dining room where several people w
ere already sitting down. "Well, we weren't really in a relationship because of
work and all the paparazzi. Garrett promised me that we would go out after ICAF
but then a couple weeks ago, he broke off whatever we had."
"No reason?" Angela asked, sitting down and patting the seat next to her.
"He probably did have a reason, I just don't know about it."
"What a jackass." Angela muttered. "I never knew Garr-"
"Good evening ladies." A voice over us said pleasantly.
My blood ran cold and immediately I panicked as Garrett gave us an easy grin and
slid into the seat next to mine, suffocatingly close as he shifted around to ge
t comfortable.
Angela shot me a panicked look, obviously wondering with fear if he had heard wh
at we had been talking about milliseconds before he purposely, or not purposely,
interrupted us. Alonzo, being the oblivious one stood up, coming around and cro
wing, "My man Garrett! It's only been what, two days, since I last talked to you
? How are you?"
Angela groaned, burying her head into her hands. "Alonzo's getting tipsy already
. He's nervous because they'll be announcing the whole ICAF competition to the g
uests and he hates, absolutely despises, talking in front of crowds."
"Wait, what ICAF announcement?" I asked curiously.
"You didn't know? Garrett didn't tell- of course he didn't. Well, even though it
's supposed to be a Thanksgiving dinner, Garrett and Alonzo will be announcing t
o the crowd that we will be competing in the International Culinary Arts Festiva
l so they can get some quick donations for our uniforms and such."
I raised an eyebrow at this news, the thought that Garrett didn't tell me the in
formation because he didn't like me any more hitting a little closer to home tha
n I would of liked it to.
"We don't need to do anything, do we?" I asked in a hushed tone as the last few
people began filing in.

Shrugging, Angela muttered, "I don't think so. We just have to stand when they s
ay our names."
The crowd grew hushed as everyone finally sat down, every seat taken except for
the one right of Garrett. Suddenly, the big dining room door opened, revealing t
he ginger I had seen Garrett talking to earlier. Dressed in a white dress that e
nded right above her knees, the stranger was stunning with green eyes and curly
red hair that fell to her shoulder blades in waves.
I held my breath for some reason, nervously looking as she approached the genera
l area where I was before grabbing Garrett's arm.
Hearing her giggle girlishly and Garrett laughing, I turned away and closed my e
yes, my hand clenched in a fist and my stomach feeling leaden.
"That bitch." Angela cursed, none too softly, causing several people to look ove
r in her direction with a scowl on their faces. The brunette ignored them as she
took my hand, gently squeezing it in a comforting manner. "What a whore."
"Whore, he's single." I scoffed lightly, trying not to let the hurt and betrayal
into my voice. "Do you know her?"
Angela nodded, a scowl twisting her beautiful features. "Mira Winters. Queen bit
ch."
If I had thought I was going to faint earlier, that was nothing compared to righ
t now. I gripped my armrest, suddenly woozy.
"Whoa there cowboy, are you okay?"
"Mira Winters, as in the model?"
Angela frowned at me, half in confusion and half in worriment. "What other Mira
is there?"
"What, what is she doing here?" I asked, pain tearing at my heart as Garrett smi
led down at Mira, obviously liking whatever she was doing.
"She used to be Garrett's girlfriend. Heard that she's taking a break from model
ing to work on her fashion line. Maybe, um, they decided to reconcile." Angela w
inced as she said those words, looking at me with pity and compassion.
"Do you want me to go and force them apart?"
"They're sitting next to each other anyways." I mumbled as they slowly approache
d us, so close that I swear they were holding hands.
Hearing Angela curse under her breath, I started to feel number and number. What
kind of dumbass was I? All this time, when I kept on turning down Harrison beca
use I felt guilt about moving on too quickly, Garrett and Mira were probably mos

t likely getting it on in his bedroom. Feeling suddenly sick, I pushed my seat b

ack,, hurrying to the door, not wanting to barf all over Garrett's suit as much
as I despised him now.
After getting a breather in the hallway, my breath coming out in pants thanks to
the tightness of the corset, I rearranged my hair and tried to calm down my ner
ves. My anger was more at myself for being so dumb as to assume that Garrett wou
ld be sensitive and not move on right away. What if Mira wanted him back and tha
t was why he broke it off with me in the first place?
With new resolve, I quietly reentered the dining room before the servants could
hand out the first course, groaning internally at the sight of Alonzo and Angela
in deep conversation, it being highly probable that they were talking about me.
"Are you okay?" Angela asked, as I took my seat, careful not to look at Garrett
or breath through my nose so I could smell him.
"Fine." I replied weakly as a servant gave me a plate of cranberry almond salad.
The next twenty minutes could have been described as hell. Easily. I would eat m
y delicious food, not even tasting it, trying to listen on to Angela and Alonzo'
s hushed conversation, even though it was really Angela trying to pry the wine g
lass from Alonzo's hand, while trying to ignore Garrett, although I was curious
about what he and Mira were talking about next to me.
Eventually, after the second course of stuffing and gravy was removed, and the c
arved turkey was being handed out, Alonzo and Garrett stood up together, heading
to the front of the table, obviously to deliver the news. Alonzo looked visibly
shaken but Garrett looked cool, confident. For a second, his eyes made contact
with mine and me smiled but then I shook it off, assuming that it had been aimed
for Mira.
"Good even ladies and gentlemen." Garrett started off, placing his hands behind
his back. "As most of you hopefully know, I'm Garrett Bianchi, heir to the Bianc
hi franchise. Tonight, my friend Alonzo and myself will announce something very
special."
Whispers erupted amongst the guest, all guessing what Garrett was about to say.
Alonzo stepped forward. "I am Alonzo, one of the finest cooks in the business."
I snickered at this; of course Alonzo would start off praising himself. "And Mr.
Bianchi and I are proud to announce our entry into the International Culinary A
rts Festival, the toughest culinary competition in the history of cooking."
The whispers grew steadily.
"We are also proud to announce our sous chefs, both in the crowds tonight. Pleas
e welcome Angela Terrell to the front please." Angela stood and walked gracefull
y to the head of the table, standing next to Alonzo.

Garrett continued, "And last but not least, Kirsten Bellini."

There was a gasp from the right, emitted by Mira, but I ignored it as I walked t
o the front, shakily, but well enough that I didn't trip and face plant into a p
late of mashed potatoes. My mother, situated next to Yivanni gave me a look, obv
iously surprised that I had never told her that I was entered in the competition
.
I wanted to stand next to Angela, but then Garrett guided me to his side, to my
dismay, as Alonzo finished the speech.
"It would be truly wonderful if you all could show your support by donating some
money to our charity so these fine women will look attractive on camera in thei
r new chef uniforms. We leave December 3rd, so please put in a couple hundred be
fore the night is over." The crowd laughed as Alonzo finished off with something
funny but all I could really notice was Garrett's hand on my back. His overwhel
ming scent of vanilla and soap made me want to give him a big hug, but I resiste
d as a cameraman took several pictures of us.
"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" Angela asked Alonzo as we sat back down, me pu
rposely avoiding Mira's accusing gaze.
"Hell yeah it was. Waiter, some more red wine please."
"Nice job." Garrett whispered to me, grinning in my direction.
"You too Mr. Bianchi." I replied coldly, turning to face Angela and eating my co
ld potatoes, trying to stave off the glares of Mira.
"What's wrong with you?" Garrett asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nothing."
That was the end of Garrett trying to have a conversation with me, instead, focu
sing his attention on the beauty next to me.
Numerous people came up to me later, congratulating me on my success in getting
into the competition with such fine chefs. The money box in the corner was filli
ng up quickly, each person at least dropping in a one hundred dollar bill like m
e dropping in pennies for the Salvation Army at Christmastime.
Sometime later, after the sweet potato dish had been taken away, Garrett got up
abruptly and left the dining table, a scowl on his face. No one except for me an
d Mira noticed, and I tried to shrug off the accusation in Mira's blue eyes.

"Hey, Kirsten, do you think you could go grab a bottle of cold water from the fr
idge? Alonzo needs a splash of reality."
I looked up at Angela and nodded, exiting the room to get away from the sophisti
cation and aimless chatter. Taking of my red high heels, I lifted up my dress so
the hem wouldn't get dirty and went to the kitchen the second time that night.
However, before I opened up the door, I could hear two male voices arguing. Lean
ing closer, I realized that it was Toben and Garrett, both looked flushed and an
gry.
"I tell you damn it that you're hurting her!" Toben shouted, waving his arms in
the air.
"And I tell you I can't be with her as much as I want to." Garrett shot back, ru
nning his hand through is hair.
"Yeah, well Kirsten's hurt, you're hurt, and Mira's a complete bitch."
"What do you expect me to do, huh? What?"
"I don't know, maybe break it off with Mira, though I don't know why you too got
together in the first place."
"I can't do that!"
I shrunk against the door, not wanting either person to see me. They were obviou
sly talking about me and Mira and Garrett's relationship problems and I wanted t
o hear this.
"Mira left you for her job, you dumbass. You can leave her too. It' isn't that h
ard to do!"
"Hell yeah it is!"
"And why's that?" Toben's voice got quiet, making me lean in closer to hear.
"Because, because..."
"Just spill it! There's no one here besides us and you know you can trust me not
to spill anything." Toben sounded hurt and betrayed, crossing his arms.
"She's pregnant. And I think it's mine."

I ran as Toben let out a string of curses.

********************
If I hadn't left my coat in the dining room, I would of immediately fled to Harr
ison's house, but instead, I ran into the packed room, avoiding Angela's curious
gaze, grabbing my black jacket and putting my heels back on. Alonzo looked like
his was going to ask where his water was but before he could, I was out of the
door.
The drive to Harrison's place was long; however, thanks to the GPS in the Merced
es, I arrived in front of his house in less than twenty minutes. He lived in a n
ice ranch style home, tan and green with the Christmas decorations already out.
Lifting up my skirt, I tried to run as fast as I could, though it turned out to
be hobbling, and knocked on the door, my breath coming out in white wisps.
Second later, the door open, revealing a petite blond girl, looking at me with a
confused expression on her face.
At first, I thought that I had gotten the wrong house but then Harrison's voice
rang out. "Ashley? Who is it?"
I stood frozen, wondering why I even bothered coming to his house when he obviou
sly had company.

So come on guys, you have to vote, right? You just have got to vote, vote, vote.
Please?
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Thirty-Three
####################################
Dedicated to you for your outrageous comments :)
Hey guys! Remember to vote!
Also, I saw another author do this and I thought it would be kind of fun. I love
reading you guys' amazing comments so every chapter at the beginning I will cho
ose my top five favorite comments from the previous chapter. The person with my
most favorite comment will get a dedication! So please, comment!
Also, CHECK OUT HOW TO BE A DISNEY PRINCESS!!!!!
Enjoy!
<3 Infatuated
********************

The petite girl looked up at me, her green eyes curiously examining me, assessin
g my dress, makeup, and disheveled overall appearance.
"Harrison? I think your girlfriend's at the door!!" She yelled before turning ba
ck to face me, a sweet smile on her delicate face. "Come on in. He'll be down in
a moment."
The relief I felt when she called me his girlfriend cleared up all the suspicion
s and betrayal that I had felt mere seconds ago; Harrison wouldn't pretend to li
ke me and string me along if he had a girlfriend. From the numerous times I had
spent with him, he was too chivalrous, too genuine to do anything like that to a
nybody. So why had my mind automatically gone to cheating and heartbreak?
Oh, yeah, that thing.
Sighing heavily, I followed the girl to what I presumed to be the living room; a
red couch was up against one wall with several coffee tables surrounding it, an
d a big plasma TV hung on the reverse side.
"I hope I wasn't bothering anything special going on tonight." I apologized, hug
ging my jacket tighter.
Harrison's sister, or who I hoped was his sister, just waved her hand in the air
, gesturing me to sit. "Harrison and I never do anything special on Thanksgiving
. I'm Crystal by the way, Harrison's older sister."
I grinned at her eloquence, extending my hand out for her to shake. "Kirsten, on
e of Harrison's friends."
"Are you girls talking about me?" A familiar voice floated in, Harrison entering
the living room, grinning when he saw me.
"Kirsten! Long time, no see."
"Yeah, sorry about that....." I trailed off, looking down at my hands.
There was a small silence before Crystal got off of the couch, brushing her legs
. "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. Nothing too naughty, okay?"
Harrison blushed at her comment as she messed up his hair and winked at the two
of us, leaving the door open a tad bit.
"Sorry about my sister. I've been single for a while so whenever a girl comes ov
er, which is really rare, she goes all crazy on them."
"No problem." I said with a laugh, brushing my hair to the side.

"So what brings you to my humble abode?" Harrison asked, sitting down next to me
, a slightly concerned look on his face as he took in my disheveled appearance.
"Garrett's pregnant."
If Harrison's eyebrows could go any higher they would of flown off his face. "Ex
cuse me? Garrett is a she-man?"
Bursting into laughter at the expression on his face, I shook my head, wiping of
f stray tears on my face. "Let me rephrase that. Mira Winters is pregnant."
Realization dashed across Harrison's face. "And she thinks Garrett's the father?
For what reason? He's the richest so it's obviously his? Please, that scenario
is so overused. She's probably a whore who only wants the fame and money if she
had a kid with him. Don't tell me he bought it."
The look on my face made him trail off, concern coming into his hazel eyes. "Oh
damn Kirsten. Come here for a hug."
After a couple minutes of me crying, I pulled away, sniffing and trying to stop
the tear flow. "I'm sorry about this whole thing. I'm usually not this emotional
. God, I sound like such a girl."
Harrison shrugged, giving me a warm smile that made me want to burst into anothe
r round of tears. Handing me his handkerchief, he replied, "it's perfectly alrig
ht. I'm a patient man."
Knowing that he was referring to our relationship status, I nodded, brushing a c
ouple straggly strands of hair out of my face, "I feel so guilty about making yo
u wait, you know? You deserve much more better than that."
"Hey, hey, stop beating yourself over that. I'm content just being your friend f
or now."
Wiping away a couple more tears, I took a deep breath and handed his handkerchie
f back. Looking around his cozy living room, my gaze fell on a coffee table wher
e a couple white candles were lit, surrounding a picture frame. Looking closer,
I realized that it was a picture of a couple standing in front of a palm tree, t
he man's appearance very similar to Harrison's except for the eye coloring.
"Is this a picture of your parents?" I asked, looking curiously at Harrison and
noticing his discomfort.
"Um, yeah. It is."

"They are an attractive couple. You look a lot like them. Where are they now?"
Harrison took a deep breath, sinking into the couch with a resigned sigh. "They
passed away a year ago."
Realizing my rash mistake, I put a hand over my mouth and took a seat next to Ha
rrison who looked like he was on the verge of tears. Without further questions,
he took a deep breath.
"My shrink tells me it's a good idea to tell people about how they passed away."
I was in shock. Harrison seemed like such a strong, put together, man who was al
ways happy and confident. I never knew that inside, he was broken and lost, and
so sad.
"It was Thanksgiving actually. November 26th. My parents and I were in the car h
eading home-Crystal was at a friend's party- and the weather was really bad. My
dad wanted to stop for the night since we were in Boulder and it would be a one
hour drive at minimum to get to Denver but I had friends waiting for me so I pra
ctically forced them to keep driving. Well, the visibility, thanks to the snow,
was horrid; my mom could barely see in front of her. Just as I was about to apol
ogize and ask to stop for the night, a semi truck slipped from the ice and the e
nd section of the vehicle hit the windshield. My mom died instantly, her neck sn
apped from the sheer force of the semi and my father got cut numerous times, eve
ntually dying from blood loss before help could get to him."
His knuckles tightened around his handkerchief, the strain making his skin ghast
ly white. Hesitantly, I covered his fist with my own hand, trying to comfort him
as he continued talking.
"The irony of this story is that I didn't get injured at all except for a piece
of glass cutting my stomach."
"Where?" I asked softly, mentally asking him to look me in the eyes.
He seemed surprised by my question and hesitantly began to unbutton the buttons
on his dress shirt. Taking that off slowly, he reached over his head and took of
f the white wife beater underneath, revealing his flaw.
At first I didn't see anything but rippling, tan muscles and flawless skin. My e
yes trailed over his chest in what I hoped wasn't a perverted way, before landin
g on a pale slash, mid abdomen. The scar ran from the top of his six pack to his
belly button, a fine line that was hardly distinguishable in light.
"I know it doesn't look too bad but the emotions that came with that accident wa
s just too much. It's cheesy but I just blamed myself for everything though I kn
ow I couldn't control what happened. I just felt like I was so selfish."

Not saying anything, I wrapped my arms around his warm body, but not before layi
ng a kiss at the top of his scar. He buried his head into my hair, a couple tear
s falling down his face, and we stayed like that, two miserable beings with torn
hearts and pain.
********************
"Ms. Bellini? I trust that you are paying attention and you can tell me the reas
on for whisking the egg whites before placing it in the batter?"
I jolted up violently, blinking sleepily as Garrett stood over me, his hands on
his apron clothed hips.
"Too ensure the fluffiness of the batter." I muttered dully, brushing my hair ou
t of my face.
"Ah, it appears that she does listen. Must have been a late night yesterday."
I groaned, burying my head into my hands, not wanting to deal with Garrett's dry
remarks. Last night I had spent the time texting Harrison and Elle simultaneous
ly which was a very bad idea since both seemed to have enough adrenaline to stay
up all night.
" Well class, today I have a very special surprise for you all. As some of you m
ay know, me and my crew will be competing at ICAF and today, we're putting on a
special presentation at lunch. It would be great of every one of you came and wa
tched because it could be a good life experience to see if that's something you
would like to pursue. Class dismissed."
The blood drained out of my face as I registered what his words implied. I would
be cooking in front of the entire school? What if I messed up? What if I mistak
en sugar for salt?
"Geez, I wish you luck Kirsten." Amelia muttered to me as she packed her bags. "
I would not have the guts to do that."
Neither would I. I thought furiously, waiting for everyone to exit the room befo
re I confronted Garrett.
"When did this happen?" I asked angrily, stomping over to Garrett's desk.
"We decided it the night of the thanksgiving party when you were absent." Came t
he cool reply, Garrett looking at my slightly accusingly.
Sighing, I placed my palms on his desk. "Just because you don't want to have a d
ecent conversation with me does not mean that you can't knock on my door and inf
orm me of this sudden event!"

The frustration in my tone caught his attention and he raised an eyebrow. "Well,
if you didn't avoid me for the past two days, maybe I could have told you."
"Sorry." I sneered, standing up and heading to the door, "I don't associate with
people who have their priorities mixed up."
"Excuse me? And what is that supposed to imply?" Garrett retorted back, his grey
eyes furious as he stood up.
I looked back at him one more time while I stood at the doorway. "It means thro
wing away a decent friendship for a woman who says she's having your baby but lo
oks like she's lost ten pounds. If I recall correctly, she was sipping champagne
two nights ago. Pregnant women aren't allowed to do that."
He was shocked at my words, and so was I. My eyes widening, I fled the room, pan
icking at what I just said to him. Nobody was supposed to know that I had eavesd
ropped on his conversation with Toben.
If I could choose between going to the culinary showing at lunch or go scrub eve
ry toilet in this school, there would be no competition. I would choose the latt
er.
Oh my god, what had I done?
Oriental cuisine passed easily since the substitute didn't know how to cook, so
I ended up stewing over my thoughts and looking towards the door, afraid that Ga
rrett would stomp in with a shotgun in his hands. Amelia seemed to notice my di
stress and she leaned over to me with a smile on her face.
"Relax honey. You'll do fine. You have been practicing right? Plus, you're the b
est one in the class. There's no way you'll fail."
"I hope you're right." I replied dully, the image of Garrett stabbing me with a
cooking knife coming into mind.
"Hey, I have some good news." Amelia muttered, her green eyes sparkling.
"Yeah? Do tell."
"Well... first, I'm not pregnant."
I sighed in relief at her comment. If she had gotten pregnant with Adam Ramsey's
child, I didn't know how Ricky, her, or me would be able to deal with that.

"Second... Ricky's friend told me that he was at the jeweller's yesterday."

My eyes widened with excitement at the realization that my friend might be engag
ed by the end of the week.
"Oh my god Amelia. That's amazing! It's what you've always wanted, right?"
Amelia's face shown with happiness, a couple of unshed tears swimming in her eye
s.
"Yeah, So I was wondering if he did propose, if you could be a bridesmaid for me
?"
Suddenly forgetting my outburst from earlier, I grinned widely and hugged her, s
o happy that she finally got what she wanted. "Of course! How could I refuse."
"Good." Amelia beamed, just as the substituted drawled. "Get out of here."
As we quickly approached the assembly room, my stomach knotted up at the prospec
t of good in front of a huge crowd and seeing Garrett again. Amelia wished me lu
ck as I ducked behind the curtains to backstage where Angela and Alonzo were mak
ing out.
Already used to the moans and strange sounds, I muttered, "Afternoon guys."
Angela's eyes widened and she smiled at me. "Girl! You look fineeee today. Go ge
t on your chef uniform."
Rolling my eyes, I questioned, "Are you two tipsy?"
Alonzo replied this time. "Just drunk off of loveeee."
Jesus Christ.
After donning on my dark blue uniform that sadly hugged all of my curves and mad
e my chest look bigger, I fidgeted next to the couple, my nerves showing.
"Where's Garrett?" I asked.
"He's going to introduce everyone and get the crowd riled up." Angela whispered,
rearranging her hair and pushing Alonzo off. Just then, the curtains opened and
I could hear Garrett's voice booming across the assembly room.
Right now, I would be happy washing toilets.

********************
Don't forget to comment and see if you can get a dedication!
####################################
Kirsten's Birthday Party Writing Contest!
####################################
The objective of this contest is to write a short chapter, no less than 1,000 wo
rds and no greater than 2,500 words of Kirsten's birthday. Use your imagination!
It can range from a full blown out party courtesy of Angela or a late night Tru
th or Dare Game. Maybe she's with Harrison, or maybe she's with Garrett. Or even
Toben if the few of you like that.
The point of this contest is to wow me with your creativity and writing skills.
I will be judging by imagination, writing, and how close it mimics my writing. T
he crazier the better, or maybe subtle may work just as well!
Details:
This contest runs from June 22nd to July 22nd.
No less than 1,000 words or greater than 2,500 words.
Please do not disfigure the characters completely. I do not want Alonzo to have
a tramp stamp or have Harrison with green hair.
Email me your chapter to iridescentwings97@gmail.com That is the only place wher
e I will accept entries.
You must include a name for the chapter.
You must also include a cover as if Kirsten's birthday is a short story. Covers
can also be emailed through links.
Again, use your imagination!!!!!!
The Prize:
The top two stories will be featured in Culinaria L'amore as a separate chapter.
Each person will receive: A fan, a dedication, a promotion on Facebook, Share Yo
ur Story, and to my fans, and a seven hundred word critique of your story.
**Every contestant will get at least two comments on their stories**

SO PLEASE JOIN!!!!!!!!!!!!
Disclaimer!!! I used the chapter for the character contest so disregard the comm
ents below!!!!
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Thirty-Four
####################################
Hey guys! Sorry for not uploading! There was this huge wildfire next to my area
so I haven't been able to write! But please enjoy this short chapter and enter t

he Kirsten's B-Day Party Writing contest, details found on the previous chapter!
<3 Infatuated
********************
"Hey guys! Thanks so much for stopping by and supporting my teammate and my atte
mpt at clinching the ICAF award. I know some of you might be here just to skip c
lass but I can guarantee those who are actually interested entertainment and som
e cooking tips."
"Yeah, entertainment. Like me upchucking all over the floor." I muttered quietly
to Angela who in return just shook her head and giggled. Wiping my sweaty palms
on my apron and rearranging my messy bun so that all the strands were away from
my face, I zoned out of Garrett's speech about hard work and diligence. When a
loud roar finally erupted from the crowd and Angela nudged me out of my daze, th
e three of us stepped onto the stage.
Blinded by the bright lights aimed directly at me, I immediately took notice of
the makeshift kitchen that had been set up on the stage. There were four miniatu
re stations equipped with a round top stove, a sink, and a chopping board. Off t
o the side, a table with an assortment of meats, cheeses, vegetables, and spices
awaited us. Taking a deep breath, I plastered a smile onto my face, my grin wid
ening as Amelia and the rest of my friends hooted and screamed my name as if thi
s was some pageant.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Alonzo gulp nervously and Angela's hand shake,
neither of which managed to ease my nerves. Sure we had practiced, and sure this
crowd was nothing compared to the real competition, but at this second, I felt
incompetent compared to the snogging couple or Garrett's nonchalance when it cam
e to whipping up a tasty dish. Who was I kidding? I was nothing in comparison. T
he only experience I had under my belt was years of cooking at a French restaura
nt and memorizing cookbook recipes.
Before I had the chance of running off the stage, Garrett's voice snapped me out
of my mental debate.
"What we will be presenting to you will be something similar to the Internationa
l Culinary Arts Festival so I hope you enjoy the show. Simon, if you would pleas
e."
An elderly man ran up onto the stage carrying a bag in his hands. Gulping at the
familiar object, I crossed my finger and hoped that we wouldn't get something i
mpossible like caviar or Chinese red bean soup.
Garrett put his hand into the bag, rummaging around and with a hesitant pause, p
ulled out two smaller bags. Handing one to Alonzo, they opened up the bags almos
t simultaneously and the breath I hadn't realized that I had been holding escape
d from my chest in relief when I saw salmon and cilantro removed. Salmon and cil
antro were easy; fish eggs were not.

Simon fished out three more sheets of paper from his bag before reading into the
microphone, "Two lunch entres and one dinner entre. You have one and a half hours.
Go."
Jogging over to where Angela and I stood respectfully Garrett rubbed his hands t
ogether with a knowing gleam in his excited grey eyes, the happy look on his fac
e obviously not aimed for me because of the rude comment I had made earlier abou
t him and Mira.
"Okay guys. Here's the plan. I just finished a recipe for a spicy curry salmon e
gg wrap which would fit the theme great since cilantro is an ingredient in the w
rap. Alonzo, how about that famous salmon on rye sandwich with your cilantro but
ter cream? After those are near completion we'll work together on a salted almon
d salmon with an Italian cilantro salad? How does that game plan sound?"
When none of us complained, Garrett grinned, his teeth flashing in the bright li
ght. "Awesome. Then Angela can you go smoke the salmon and roast the almonds the
n go help out with Alonzo?" When she nodded, Garrett turned to me and visibly, h
is smile faded.
"Kirsten." He muttered stiffly. "You'll be helping me."
When nothing else was said, I nodded quickly in return before rolling up my slee
ves and following Garrett as he made his way to one of the cooking stations. Tur
ning to me, he tossed me a couple sheets of paper.
"Can you wash the cilantro and then chop it into small enough pieces that it's j
ust flecks? I don't want any bruised pieces so make sure you're being careful wi
th it." When I shook my head in affirmation, he turned before grabbing a piece o
f raw salmon.
I worked diligently, occasionally brushing a piece of hair out of my eyes, tryin
g to ignore the stares and whispered that accompanied the crowd. Taking a big wh
iff of the fresh cilantro, I scooped up the slices and dumped them into a cerami
c bowl before presenting them to Garrett. When he nodded his approval, not looki
ng at me the entire time he examined my handiwork, he grabbed the bowl from me b
efore cracking four eggs and whisking it briskly.
"Take this and add two cups of flour. Then pour some oil into the skillet and cr
eate a quesadilla. You got that?"
Scowling a bit at how condescending his tone was, I nodded again before followin
g his instructions. After beating the mixture for a couple of minutes and satisf
ied with the liquidity of the batter, I poured it slowly into the pan before thr
owing the bowl into the sink.
Wiping my hands on my apron, I rested for a second watching Alonzo and Angela wo
rking as a team, a serious look on both of their faces. While one slathered butt
er onto the rye bread, the other minced raw salmon, both just an inch away from
each other but comfortably maneuvering. Looking over at Garrett, who worked with

diligence on his handsome face, his movements were smooth and well practiced bu
t we didn't act like a team. In fact, if a person walked by, it would look like
we were on opposite teams competing for the award.
Shaking my head, at both my immaturity and his, I rested my hands on my hips bef
ore stomping over to Garrett.
"Anything else?" I asked, my voice clipped and harsh, obviously showing my irrit
ation.
He look up, surprise flashing over his face at my angry tone before muttering qu
ietly, "Stop it Kirsten. You're being immature."
"You're kidding me, right?" I hissed so that no one could hear our conversation.
"I'm the one that's immature? You've been ignoring me and only puts on a good f
ront when other people are around!"
"Kirsten." Garrett paused for a moment, maintaining eye contact for a second bef
ore looking away. "The omelet."
*********************
"He's being a total dickhead." Angela muttered quietly as we rolled the spicy cu
rry salmon wraps and drizzled balsamic vinegar onto the plate in a decorative st
yle, Alonzo and Garrett working on their roasted salmon.
"Who? Alonzo?"
Angela rolled her eyes at me, as she sliced the carrots and put them on the edge
of the plate. "No. Garrett. What is up his ass, man?"
Gulping, I stared at the powdered curry on my hands, debating whether or not to
answer her. Finally, I sighed and wiped my hands on my apron. "I may have said s
ome things."
Angela snorted. "He probably deserved them."
"I told him he was being stupid and that I saw Mira drinking champagne."
Her eyes narrowing, Angela looked confused as she wiped off a bit of stray cilan
tro with a towel. "I drink champagne. You drank champagne. What's so weird abou
t that bitch drinking champagne?"
I sighed, biting my lower lip. "Well, she says she's pregnant, and women are sup
posed to contain their drinking to a certain amount while pregnant unless they d
on't mind hurting their child."

The expression on Angela's face was one of shock, anger, and if she had been dri
nking water, I bet that there would be water all over the place, like in the mov
ies where people spit out water when in shock.
"Seriously? Mira? Pregnant? That's absolutely wonderful!"
My eyebrows shot up at Angela's unexpected reply until she cackled softly and mu
ttered gleefully, "I'd like to see her lose all that baby fat. She'll have stret
ch marks. My dreams have come true!"
Looking over her shoulder, I noticed Garrett glancing over at us, and I swatted
Angela's arm to stop her laughing. "Angela! Garrett's looking at you."
"Screw him. He's unimportant. Now the real question is; did he break up with you
because of her getting pregnant or because of something else?"
Twisting the towel in my hands, I brushed a piece of my hair off of my forehead,
thinking before I replied. "I don't know. But right now? I'm beyond caring."
I didn't manage to hear Angela's reply as a loud buzzer rang, signifying the end
of the show.
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Thirty-Five
####################################
VOTE AND COMMENT!!!!
<3 Infatuated
********************

After we finished cleaning up the stations, wiping the counters off, scrubbing t
he stoves, and moving them back into the janitor closet, all while hordes of stu
dents came up to us with questions, well wishes, and a couple 'you're so lucky
to be working with Mr. Bianchi!', our little group finally escaped the crowds th
at had started trickling back to class and were walking aimlessly around the sma
ll conference room as Garrett finished a phone call with his dad.

"So guys, good job." Garrett said firmly, tucking his phone into his back pocket
. "That was comparatively better than our previous tries."

Alonzo snickered a bit, well aware of what Garrett's words implied, and Angela j
abbed him in the stomach with a small smile on her face.

"Angela, nice job working together with Alonzo. You followed his orders well. Al
onzo, nice work man. You really managed to pull it together. Kirsten... do you t
hink I could speak to you for a moment?"

Immediately, Angela stood up and dragged Alonzo to the door. "I just remembered,
I forgot to feed Princess, Alonzo. We have to go now."

I could hear Alonzo whine. "That damn dog? You pay more attention to her than yo
u do me."

Once they were out the door, I shifted nervously in my seat, my hands gripping t
he table as Garrett sat down besides me.

"How'd you know?" He asked abruptly, looking straight ahead at the blank whitebo
ard hanging on the magenta wall.

"Know what?"

"That Mira's pregnant."

Silence followed his statement, me staring down into my lap, my palms sweating s
lightly due to my cumbersome uniform. "I may have overheard your conversation wi
th Toben in the kitchen."

Garrett's grey eyes widened, turning towards me as he regarded me with a curious

expression on his face. "What did you hear?"

To me, his voice sounded panicked but I brushed it off. "Just enough to hear tha
t Mira and you are going to have a kid. "

What he said next surprised me. "You know, you're right."

I finally looked up and regarded him with wide eyes. His face looked tired and h
is eyes were wary, small bags underneath. To me, he still looked as handsome as
usual though his skin looked paler than normal and sleep deprivation rang out cl
early.

"I mean... it's just, I'm not being fair to you. It's not your fault or anything
that Mira's knocked up, and here I was nearly yelling at you and calling you im
mature when all you've been is nice and a tad bit frustrated. I'm sorry."

Putting a small, sincere smile on my face, I touched Garrett's balled up hand wi

th my own, trying to loosen up some of the tension there. "It's alright. I'm sur
e it's stressful, being a new father and all that. I can understand. I just... d
on't want to be intruding or anything, though it came off that way earlier. I'm
sorry as well."

"I've been such an ass." Garrett muttered, the same time I said, "I've been such
a bitch."

"You haven't been a bi-"

"You're not an as-"

We looked up at each other and then Garrett burst out laughing me joining in aft
er a millisecond.

"Truce?" Garrett asked, holding out his hand.

I hesitated, looking down at it before gingerly, I held it and said softly. "No.
"

"What? Am I being too forward or do you still nee-"

I cut him off. "Friends?"

Garrett's eyes seemed to melt a bit, his steely grey turning into a molten silve
r as he tightened his hold on my hand and shook it deliberately.

"Friends."

********************

Garrett's POV

Damn it! If only she knew.

I watched as she seemed to tremble the second Angela and Alonzo were out the doo
r, and I couldn't help but want to slap myself in the face, kneel down, and beg
for her forgiveness. The look on her face was forlorn, sad, resigned, the way it
looked at her father's funeral way back when and I hated knowing that I was the
cause of it.

When she hesitantly said that she had heard my conversation with Toben, I felt f
rozen and... almost hopeful. To get away from Mira's sharp claws and incessant b
labbering, Toben had dragged me off to the kitchen to cool off, muttering someth
ing about a man to man and throwing a venomous glare in Mira's general direction
, one that she didn't notice. Then we had spent the next half an hour just... ta
lking.

If Kirsten had heard the first twenty minutes of the conversation where I procla
imed my love for her to Toben while angrily punching the refrigerator to relieve
my stress and anger, maybe we wouldn't have been in this current predicament. W
e could off run off to China or something, away from the institute, my demanding
father, and a child that I was almost certain didn't belong to me.

Damn my honor! If only I was as lowly as some scum and refused to care for Mira
while she was pregnant, showering all my love for the woman I cared about instea
d of falsely praising the psychotic bitch. For the time that I had been in conta
ct with Mira, all she had done was complain, bitch, moan, and had caused three o
f the Bianchi residents' servants to resign from position when she threw a glass
of ice water at one of them in the car.

"Truce?" I asked slowly, trying to gauge Kirsten's reaction as I stretched out m

y hand for her to shake, surprised that my hand was trembling for apprehension.

She placed her warm and thin hand inside of mine and immediately... it felt righ
t, like that was where it belonged, in mine, as cheesy as that sounded.

"No."

Immediately, my sides started hurting and my feelings were torn between sadness
and resentment for Mira and myself. She had given up on me and there was nothing
to salvage the relationship between the two of us. However, before I could apol
ogize and run off to grab a beer and drown myself in self pity and loathing, she
muttered in a small, melodious voice, "friends?"

For now, that seven letter word would have to suffice.

********************

Kirsten's POV

I laughed loudly at something Garrett said as we sped on the highway after a lon
g day at the institute. The windows were down, the seventy degree wind, strange
for December in Colorado blowing through the open vents. It had only been a coup
le of hours since we had proclaimed our renewed friendship and already I was beg
inning to feel longing and regret.

Garrett opened his mouth to say something, but just then, my phone rang in my po
cket. Slipping it out and groaning mentally at the caller i.d., I picked it up a
nd answered.

"Hey Harrison."

From the corner of my eyes, I could see Garrett stiffen and grip the steering wh
eel tighter, the car speeding up to seventy-five.

"Kirsten! How are you?" Harrison's cheery voice rang through the phone.

"I'm great, how are you?" I replied politely, my gut suddenly hurting as I becam
e aware of the man besides me and the man on the other side of the phone. Guilt
made my stomach seize.

"I was wondering when you were leaving for the competition."

"In five days." I said, tossing my hair behind my back and watching the trees zo
om by, well aware of the tension in the car.

"Great, so that means that I can see you tomorrow, right?"

"Um sure." I muttered, casting another glance in Garrett's direction and noticin
g the rising odometer.

"Awesome! Well that's all. It's not like I'm planning anything, you know." Harri
son muttered teasingly, causing a smile to grace my face.

"Shut up. You know I hate surprises."

"Exactly." The line went dead and I shook my head, pocketing my phone back into
my jean pocket.

"Harrison's the tennis guy, right?" Garrett asked quietly, slowing down as we re
ached a red light.

Surprised that he knew who Harrison was, I nodded. "Yeah, he's one of my friends
from high school."

Before Garrett could say anything, his phone rang this time. And like me, a scow
led graced his features, and I wondered who was putting him into a bad temper.

"Hello?"

A pause.

"Listen Mira, I don't have time. What? No, you're coming over?"

My blood ran cold and suddenly, I felt almost jealous. Which was immediately rep
laced by guilt for... betraying Harrison, as strange as that sounded.

"Fine. But only for dinner."

"No, I do not need a backrub from your new masseuse."

"I'm fine." Irritation crept into Garrett's voice and I snorted from disbelief,
him giving me a small look before turning back to look at the road.

"Mira. Please. I'm fine. Is a girl with me? Yes, I'm in the car having crazy, wi
ld sex with her."

A pause.

"That was sarcasm, honey."

"What? Kirsten? Um, yes, she's a family friend. Do I like her?" This time Garret
t paused and I stiffened, gripping my bag in my hands and trying to look nonchal
antly as we entered the gated community.

"Yeah. I like her a lot." Garrett muttered softly. Then his voice turned sharp.
"No, I am NOT sleeping with her Mira. God, go back to sleep or designing, or wha
tever the hell you're doing."

"No I am not giving you a backrub either." He growled, literally growled, before
hanging up, tossing his phone into the back seat and turning to look at me.

"Sorry about that." He muttered as we zoomed past a couple trees, the mansion co
ming into view. "She's obviously in a bad mood."
Not knowing what else to say, I just nodded and muttered," It's alright."

And then, the awkward tension was back.

After realizing that I was going to be facing my archnemisis from high school, I
ran upstairs and took a quick shower, oddly enough wanting to be presentable en
ough to pass Mira's judging glance.

Looking at my phone, a devious idea suddenly came into mind.

"Hey Harrison?" I muttered, when he finally picked up ten minutes later.

"What's up Kirsten? Missing my voice already?"

"Of course I am. I have a favor to ask you."

"Ask away."

"How do you feel about a double date with Mira and Garrett?"

Twenty minutes later, Harrison was at the doorway, dressed in a nice dove grey v
est over a simple white dress shirt and dark blue jeans that hugged his hips and
thighs lovingly. His hair looked like he had just gotten out of the shower as I
went downstairs to greet him.

"Thanks for coming Harrison." I muttered softly, giving him a nice smile and acc
epting the light purple lilies from his hands.

"You look very nice Kirsten." He replied, giving me a kiss on the cheek as he ey
ed my simple purple chiffon dress that was cinched at the waist and flowed to my
knees.

"Thanks." I giggled. Then I turned somber and said. "Thanks, really, for coming.
I don't know if I can handle seeing her close up without someone holding me bac
k from clawing off her face."

"Because she stole your high school boyfriend and your very close acquaintance,
right?" The wariness in Harrison's tone made me pause as I realized that he soun
ded almost jealous, thinking that I was only mad at Mira because she had Garrett
and I didn't.

Laughing genuinely, I hooked my arm through Harrison's as we made our way to the
dining room. "Harrison. Garrett and I aren't anything but acquaintances. I'm co
mpletely over him. I pinkie swear."

Harrison smiled down at me, a tender look in his hazel eyes. "Seriously?"

"Seriously." I replied as firmly as I could.

Then with a deep breath, I led Harrison through the dining room door into our fa
te.

********************

So what do you think? Do you think Kirsten's just using Harrison to make Garrett
jealous? What about her and G's new relationship? Comment and VOTE!!!
####################################
Interview With Harrison Opel/ Alonzo & Angela
####################################
(This is the recycled chapter that was once Garrett's interview. Go to the Table
of Contents to find the Kirsten/Garrett interview. This one is on Harrison/Ange
la and Alonzo. Please vote if you haven't previously! NOTE***** Alonzo and Angel
a's interview is not up yet. HOWEVER, after I upload a couple of chapters and th
is becomes the newest, again, please scroll down to check out Alonzo and Angela'
s!!!)
Character Information (filled by the character himself)
Name: Harrison Opel
Age: 20
Birthdate: March 5
Birthplace: Colorado Springs, Colorado
Current Location: Denver, Colorado
Occupation: Student at University Of Denver
Gender: Male
Height: 6' 3"
Hair Color: Light Brown
Hair Style: Short and messy
Eye Color: Amber
Skin Color: Tan
Ethnicity: 101% Black
I: So... Harrison Opel, also referred to by the boy next door, the one Kirsten u
ses, the nice one, intruding one, high school sweetheart, the hottie... who do y

ou consider yourself to be in terms of your friendly relationship with Kristen?

H: Truthfully... I hate waiting. I tell her that I will wait, and I can, but ins
ide, I just want to snatch her from Garrett and claim her as mine. I want to be
her boyfriend.
I: That's a pretty passionate statement there. How do you plan on getting her?
H: Like I have been. Supporting, nice, the shoulder to lean on... I don't mind b
eing there when's she's upset or frustrated, or needs a friend. It helps me get
closer to her so I'm hoping that when she keeps on crying and soaking my shirts
that she'll realize how much I really do like her.
I: Isn't it hard seeing her be hung over Garrett?
H: Indescribably difficult.
I: Let me clear this up. How long have you liked her?
H: Well I met her when I was a senior and she was a junior.... we had Student Co
uncil together and had some fun times. Mainly, I just observed from far away. At
that time, I liked her as an aquantaince. She was sweet and funny but nothing r
eally happened between us though I sometimes wondered, 'what if?' you know? Well
, when I saw her two years later at the restaurant, she was just so beautiful he
r her purple dress and immediately I recognized her. You can't forget a face lik
e hers. That semifriendship just bloomed, I guess.
I: Wow. That's some pretty intense statement.
H: Yeah? Well I've done a lot of thinking.
I: What do you like about Kirsten?
H: She's gorgeous, funny, cute, and though she puts up this whole independent, s
trong facade, she's pretty vulnerable on the inside. I want to put the pieces ba
ck together, you know?
I: Um.... no I don't know. May I have you for myself? Anyways, moving on. Name
some past girlfriends.
H: Alright, there was Mary, Eliza, and Marisol.
I: And?
H: Um, is there supposed to be more?
I: Well I assumed yes. Got anyone pregnant? Anything drama-related?
H: Once I caught Eliza texting some random guy... Does that count?
I: You're a saint compared to Garrett.
H: Does that mean I get more brownie points? Does that mean you'll think about t
hat when you figure out whether or not I get my girl?
I: Well, we'll see.Are you afraid that when she goes to the culinary competition
, that maybe she'll get closer to Garrett and forget about you?
H: You know, my parents' love story is mainly about the five years that they wer
e apart, seperated by the Atlantic Ocean. And I figured that if it was meant to

be, that love can only grow. If she goes back to Garrett... well that's complete
ly out of my hands.
I: Do you believe in fate, destiny?
H: Psh, no. I believe that certain things just fall together but that a person c
an change their fate if they go on the right paths, you know? Like, if I hadn't
pestered my parents to go home that night, they'd still be alive. It was my deci
sions that caused that, and it isn't fate. It's decision making even though it m
ay be impossible to realize the detrimental effects of an action.
I: Would losing Kirsten, both physically and mentally, be detrimental to you? Is
she that important?
H: That's an unfair question.
I: How so?
H: Because either way, I don't know if I'll be able to hold on to Kirsten for to
o long.
I: Why do you say that?
H: It's, it's just a feeling as much as I hate to admit it.
I: Well, let's not jump to conclusions.... plus isn't that the idea of fate?
H: No, it's more or less a gut feeling that I don't like.
I: Will you be watching Kirsten in the competition?
H: Hell yeah. Even if I can't cook and can only service doesn't mean I won't be
watching her.
I: What's the big surprise you have planned for her?
H: That's secret, one that you should know yourself...
I: True. Well, that's all for now Harrison!
**********************
ALONZO AND ANGELA'S INTERVIEW SHOULD BE UP SOON!!!!! AFTER I UPLOAD A COUPLE OF
CHAPTERS AND THE NEWEST CHAPTER IS THIS INTERVIEW, SCROLL DOWN HERE TO GET THE S
COOP ON ALONZO AND ANGELA"S RELATIONSHIP!
<3 Infatuated
####################################
Culinaria L'amre Chapter Thirty-Six
####################################
Hey guys! Enjoy this long chapter. If I don't see everyone voting and commenting
this very important chapter, I'm going to punch a baby. Seriously. I worked har
d for this chapter.
Don't forget! Babies with bloody noses and black eyes are what we DON'T want to
achieve here. So vote and comment!!!!
<3 Infatuated

********************

"And so he was all like, 'Wow Ms. Winters I do believe you-" Mira stopped talkin
g as soon as we entered the room, her blue eyes narrowing as they focused in on
me. Mr. Bianchi looked uncomfortably down at his plate and Yivanni flashed a bri
ght smile in my direction, blissfully ignorant-or purposely ignoring-Mira's host
ile glare. Garrett was surprisingly missing, the chair next to Mira empty.

"Evening everyone." I said, dragging Harrison along as he suddenly appeared a bi

t shy.

"What are you doing here?" Mira practically seethed, no diplomacy or fake words
masking her true meaning. As if she was in a C rated movie, her hand gripped her
fork tighter and tossed her red hair back as though she was gearing for battle.

"Um, excuse me? Who are you?" I asked brightly, throwing her a big grin as Harri
son pulled out my chair for me. I sat down, grateful, because I knew if she said
one more mocking word at me I would either crumple to the ground or leap across
the table and punch her bright red lips.

"Ah, you are Harrison, no?" Yivanni asked pleasantly, standing to shake Harrison
's hand, as if Mira wasn't hyperventilating to her right and everything was norm
al. "I'm Yivanni, Garrett's mom."

"It's very nice to meet you. Yes, I'm Harrison, Kirsten's... friend." Harrison r
eplied smoothly, shooting her his signature grin before repeating his greeting t
o Mr. Bianchi. After everyone finally took their seats, Yivanni looked around be
fore sighing.

"That boy. Where has Garrett gone?"

"I'm not sure." Mira replied, looking in my direction. "Does anyone know?"

I simply shrugged as several waiters came around the table and distributed salad
s. Harrison looked down at me questionly as if to ask if Mira's words were bothe
ring me and I only replied with a small smile. So far, so good.

"So, Harrison, what are you doing?" Mr. Bianchi asked after swallowing a mouthfu
l of spinach. He seemed to assess the younger man, his face not showing whether

or not he approved of his new, temporary dinner guest.

"I'm majoring in business with an emphasis on sports as Denver University." Harr

ison muttered smoothly, not at all bothered by Mr. Bianchi's critical look and f
or that, I was even more grateful.

"Really? I thought you were going to play tennis in college." Mira piped up, not
a single leaf of her salad touch. When Harrison raised an eyebrow in her direct
ion, she smiled prettily and believe it or not, fluttered her eyelashes discreet
ly. As she did so, I turned away, disgusted that Mira would stoop so low as atte
mpt to seduce another man while she was pregnant with another's child. Out of th
e corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Bianchi frown, as if he knew exactly what Mira was
trying to do as well.

However, what Harrison said next brought a huge smile to my face. "Excuse me? Do
I know you?"

With a huff and a face that was slowly turning a nice shade of red thanks to Yiv
anni's and Mr. Bianchi's quiet snickers, she straightened her spine and sent me
another glare, as if it was my fault. "Mira Winters? Prom queen? Head cheerleade
r? Current face of Tommy Hilfiger?"

"You mean former face of Tommy Hilfiger?"

Oh god. I couldn't resist. A loud snort came from my direction as well as from Y
ivanni but Mira was not amused.

"What are you laughing about?" See, I have the guy, the millions of dollars, the
fashion line, and thousands of people fawning over me. You? You're just a lowl
y restaurant manager.

Granted, she didn't actually say that, but from the contempt in Mira's voice, it
wasn't really hard to read between the lines.

"Nothing. I just, uh, thought of a really funny joke. That's it. Continue? What
about your former Tommy Hilfiger thing? And wait, what's your name again? I don'
t recall seeing you anywhere."

I knew I was bordering impolite, hell I was probably out of the rude zone, but t
hat girl had caused enough problems in my life that a few jabs here and there we

re completely expected.

"I'm Mira Winters. Now, who are you?"

Before I could reply, a smooth voice from behind her answered for me. "She's my
guest and my... friend. Don't treat my friends that way, Mira."

Besides me, Harrison stiffened a bit

at his salad before devouring it in
mmediately, Mira's frown turned to a
nd muttered in a sugary voice, "Just
, honey."

as Garrett flopped into his seat and stared

one gulp, either intimidated or startled. I
sunny smile as she clung to Garrett's arm a
getting myself acquainted with your friends

Turning to me, Mira said, "I'm sorry, let me reintroduce myself. I'm Mira Winter
s, soon to be Mira Bianchi."

Props to me. Either I was truly over Garrett and had moved onto greener pastures
like the one sitting next to or I had an insurmountable amount of self control
from stabbing her hands, both ringless on the fourth finger.

"Oh yeah? That's awesome!" I chirped back, tossing her a fake smile right back.
"When's the wedding?"

Garrett slammed his fork onto the porcelain plate before looking at Mira long an
d hard, saying "I haven't proposed yet." Just as Mira replied to me, "Sometime n
ext year."

Yivanni cleared her throat so loudly that it seemed as if she was trying to get
a big chunk of food out of her throat. Thankfully, by doing so, she changed the
topic to less dangerous waters. "Garrett, honey, why were you so late?"

The brunette focused his attention on his mother, the harsh lines on his face so
ftening a bit. "Just working out the last few kinks for transportation to Califo
rnia. Sorry for interrupting dinner. I apologize."

"I'm going with you, right?" Mira asked, waving for a waiter to take away her un
touched plate.

The muscles in Garrett's cheek twitched as he regarded her with apathy on his fa
ce. Mr. Bianchi wiped his mouth before saying, "I'm sorry Mira, only the contest
ants get to go to California."

"But it's no fair!" She whined. "She gets to go."

Well, karma's a bitch.

********************

After the flan was finally removed, Mira's conspicuously untouched, Mr. Bianchi
stood up, excusing himself from the table, but not before saying, "Kirsten, coul
d I talk to you in my study for just a second?"

Harrison squeezed me hand gently, as I slowly pushed my chair out and followed t
he elderly man out the dining room, Garrett's eyes narrowing as the fleeting tou
ch didn't go past his observation.

When the two of us reached the living room instead of the study, he sat down abr
uptly, turning to face me and patting the spot next to him on the couch. The loo
k in Mr. Bianchi's eyes was tired, weary, and regretful, making me feel as if be
ing in the she-lion's den was better than what he was about to talk to me about.

"She's not the only reason you know." Mr. Bianchi muttered after a couple second
s of silence as I situated myself on the cool brown leather.

"Excuse me? What do you mean by that?" I asked, genuinely curious at what he was
implying. When a piece of hair fell onto my forehead, I brushed it away impatie
ntly, waiting for his answer.

"You think that Garrett stopped his surreptitious relationship with you because
of Mira's current... condition." He said it with such conviction that I could on
ly nod.

How did he know? Garrett and I had been so careful to not attract any attention
from his parents that I was shocked to realize that Mr. Bianchi did indeed know.

"My wife, as you may know, is very perceptive. She noticed immediately the attra

ction between the two of you... and what I'm trying to say is that I was origina
lly against it."

I wasn't surprised.

"I didn't want my son

you, I assure you. He
his goals instead of
to win ICAF and I am

in a relationship. This of course, had nothing to do with

had so much ahead of him that I wanted him to endeavor for
surrounding himself with a bad influence, love. I want him
positive that he can."

"So you're saying that I need to work harder? I can definitely do that."

A small, amused smile crept on Mr. Bianchi's face as he shook his head. "No, wha
t I mean is that Garrett didn't want to end his,,, thing with you. My suggestion
for him to distance himself from you flew over his head the first time."

"The first time?"

"I apologize. Yes, the first time I dissuaded him from being even friends with y
ou and I even attempted at switching your schedule, though that didn't work out.
Then, the second time I tried, it was minutes after Mira contacted him with the
news of the baby. I'm trying to say that I am sorry for persuading him away fro
m you."

"Why? You accomplished your goal. Garrett's going into the competition with conf
idence and a great chance at winning. You shouldn't feel regretful."

Why was I advocating his decision to drive his son and me apart?

"He really likes you."

I didn't look up, didn't want to see the sympathy in Mr. Bianchi's dark grey eye
s. I was so torn; on one hand there was a man, willing and eager to be with me.
He was perfect in every sense and I couldn't deny my attraction to him. But ever
y single time I tried to take the next step with him, something, like this, woul
d always propel me in the other direction, with selfishness and guilt mixed toge
ther in the pit of my stomach. What was I to do?

"Thank you for telling me." I whispered in a hollow tone.

"I want to tell you that he has full permission to court you after the competiti
on is over."

"But... the baby?"

He snorted, as if my suggestion was absolutely ludicrous. "Mira's child is not h

is. I assure it. That woman wastes my food, insults my guests, and does not have
a single strand of modesty or kindness in her empty soul."

The conviction in Mr. Bianchi's tone seemed unreasonable yet at the same time co
mforting. Suddenly, I knew what my final decision was. And this time, there was
nothing that could change it.

********************

"I've made my decision." I said quietly, fidgeting slightly as Harrison and I st

ood outside in the frigid cold night.

"About what?" Harrison asked, curiosity in his hazel eyes. "Whether or not you'l
l give Mira a black eye?"

"No." I scoffed. "Plus she isn't worth my time. Do you want to here my decision
or not?"

"Of course."

"Harrison." I muttered, taking a deep breath and watching as a cloud of smoke tr

ailed out of my mouth, "Would you like to go on a date sometime?"

Immediately, Harrison looked full of life, his gorgeous eyes lighting up and a h
uge smile glistening in the darkness. "Are you sure?" He asked, his baritone voi
ce husky as he looked down at me eagerly.

When I nodded, he whooped and spun he around, hugging me, not to tight, around t

he waist and placing his chin on my head.

"Um, what's your answer Harrison?" I asked teasingly. "You're making me nervous.
"

He paused, looking down at me. "Hmmmmm..." He said, his chest vibrating. "I'll h
ave to think about-"

He couldn't finished before I socked him in the shoulder. "Jackass."

"Beautiful, perfect woman."

My cheeks flushed a rosy red from his compliment as I buried my head into his bl
ack jacket and inhaled his familiar woodsy scent, not sure as what to say in ret
urn.

"Can I redeem that date right now?"

I looked up, raising an eyebrow, slightly startled by his forwardness. "Now? It'
s like nine o'clock."

"So? I do believe the park is still open. But you'll have to put on a couple mor
e layers."

Grinning, I struggled out of his grip and sprinted up the icy driveway, quite di
fficult in my ballet flats . "Okay! Give me five minutes!"

Twenty minutes later, snug in my fur coat, mittens, scarf, and fur-lined boots,
we entered the local park, each of us holding a steaming cup of steaming Starbuc
k's coffee, courtesy of Harrison since I left my wallet at home. Sitting on the
cold seat, I situated myself and lazily swung back and forth. When a hand pushed
my back, I jerked and swung around to see Harrison grinning.

"What? I thought you might want a push."

I laughed in return, pumping my legs back and forth and enjoying the feeling of

Harrison's hands occasionally giving me a gentle push. The wind stung my face bu
t with my hot chocolate and the warmth in my heart, nothing seemed to cold.

Until, while I threw my cup into the trashcan, a snowball smashed itself into my
face.

"Wow, I should of tried out for baseball." Harrison teased. When I turned and gl
ared, he laughed and said, "What, you too big of a wimp to throw back.

Grinning evilly, I stooped down and formed a perfect snowball, the right size to
cover his face with snow, and not too hard so all the snow would melt on his sk
in and leave him dripping in water. As he bent down to form his own, I threw it
and bull's eye! it hit him right on the nose.

After a few more tosses, with him missing two and making three on my back should
er and neck, and me making all five on his face and chest, Harrison finally thre
w up his hands and cried "Uncle!"

"Jesus, woman, I take my previous statement back. You should of played baseball.
"

I was lying on the wet ground laughing when he said that, growing quiet as he la
y down beside me.

"I played softball in high school. Varsity all four years."

Harrison turned and looked at me, seriousness in his honey liquid eyes. "There's
a lot I need to learn about you Kirsten. And you know what? I can't wait to beg
in."
That night was perfect. The stars were up in the sky, gleaming faintly, and the
cold didn't bother me as Harrison and I talked for an hour about the most random
of things, reveling in each others presence.
Nothing could have made that even more perfect. Well, except if we both didn't c
ontract colds the next morning####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Thirty-Seven
####################################
So.... I don't know if that baby threat actually worked or if you guys really li
ked the last chapter but either way, thank you, everyone of you, for getting me
to Teen Fiction 33 and Watty Awards 59. That really means a big deal to me! I'm
a greedy person so I kind of want the same for this chapter, so...

If every single one of you don't vote and comment for this chapter, some babies
are definitely getting punched!!!
Seriously...
One more note: school starts for me tomorrow so the updates will vary since I'm
taking really intense courses and skipping a couple prerequisites but please bea
r with me lovies!
<3 Infatuated
********************
"Jesus Kirsten, I'm so sorry for getting you sick." Harrison wheezed, setting do
wn a tray of steaming chicken noodle soup and floppoing onto the love seat next
to where I was curled up, tucked under a layer of blankets.
I managed a small chuckle, barely audible from under the pile of cotton and my s
cratchy throat, before I lifted myself up and grasped the bowl, inhaling the dec
adent smell of creamy chicken. "You just made me canned chickenn noodle soup. Wh
atever your fault was, there wasn't any by the way, you are definitely forgiven.
"
When Harrison started coughing, his face barely visible above a red scarf, I set
down my bowl before croaking, "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm good."
"We totally shouldn't have stayed in the snow for that long." I muttered with a
sigh, giving Harrison one of my quilt blankets before snatching the remote and t
uning out of the Kardashians.
"You freaking kidding me? That was a fun first date."
I snorted, rolling my eyes. "Well yeah, for the first couple hours until we both
got sick."
"Well, that too."
We both fell silent as I sipped my soup, enjoying the feeling of the warm liquid
sliding down my throat. The silence was broken a moment later when Harrison shi
fted in his seat and muttered, "I'm going to miss you when you leave."
I looked over at him... and cracked up.
"What the hell's so funny? I just poured out my heart and soul and you're laughi
ng?!"
Gasping, I doubled over, trying to find the words. "Your nose is red and your ey
es are all watery. Not to mention your Winnie The Pooh sweater. You just look so
dang cute."
"You're just so dang funny." Harrison replied, aiming for the Southern accent bu
t sounding more nasally than he already was.
"I'm sorry. I'll miss you too. Won't have anyone to make me noodle soup."
"Garrett can."

I looked up, searching for a hint of jealously in Harrison's voice but found non
e, just his clear hazel eyes staring at me innocently.
"Yeah, well maybe I'll just make my own." I replied cheerfully, then changing th
e subject said, "you coming to the airport tomorrow with me?"
"Of course I am. That is, if I'm not dead." Harrison blew his nose on a tissue.
"Which, right now, isn't that doubtful."
I sighed, leaning over to ruffle his brown hair. "I think you should head home a
nd rest up. I think you've got it worse than me. I'll be okay by myself."
"But I wanna chill with you." Harrison whined, batting his eyes at me in a comic
al fashion. "You being on a TV cooking and talking to television hosts isn't the
same as you smashing snowballs into my face."
"Yeah," I snorted, frowing when I touched Harrison's, "but if you don't get enou
gh rest, I don't think you'll be able to take me to the airport tomorrow."
"Ah shucks, you're right. As always. I was hoping for a goodnight kiss."
"I don't think so buster." I muttered, grabbing his fur coat off of the hanger.
"A germ infested kiss and dripping noses? Not my idea of a good first kiss."
"There you are, right again."
I laughed. "As always."
"I'll catch you later then?" Harrison asked, walking slowly to the door.
'Definitely. I can't leave without getting a hug from you." I replied in a child
ish voice.
Harrison looked down at me with a soft smile on his face. "Well just in case..."
he muttered before crushing me gently to his chest. I enjoyed the warmth for a
minute before he let go of me and headed out.
Harrison left, trudging his way down the driveway and I slowly made my way to th
e kitchen, clutching my bowl weakly in my hands. It must of been the loud scuffl
ing of my slippers that I didn't hear Garrett approach from behind. When a finge
r tappped my shoulder, I freaked, a high pitched squeak making my cough and drop
the ceramic bowl onto the hardwood floor.
"Ah shit." I muttered in a scratchy voice, slowly bending down to pick up the sh
attered pieces but he beat me to it, swiftly bending down and sweeping them up w
ith his hands.
"You didn't have to do that." I frowned, poking Garrett in the back. "You might
get sick."
Garrett raised an eyebrow as he looked down at me, obviously not persuaded by my
weak attempt. "I can't have my sous chef getting injured." He replied softly. "
I also don't like my friends getting hurt. And since you're both, I'm picking up
the shards. Go back to bed."
I paused, looking at him. Remember the conversation I had with Garrett's father
two nights ago, it was awkward for me, knowing that there was a chance he still
liked me. Thank god Harrison left before the two could have any interaction.
"What time do we leave tomorrow?" I asked as Garrett slowly stood up, gingerly c

arrying the broken pieces of the bowl.

"Twelve p.m. sharp. We got our own private jet so you better be on time."
"That early?" I asked with a frown. The last time I had checked, we were suppose
d to fly out at four.
"Yep. We got an interview with the IT Culinary Show and a meeting with the produ
cers and hosts. It's going to be a busy day tomorrow."
"You okay?"
Garrett looked up at me with surprise as we entered the empty kitchen. "Of cours
e. Why wouldn't I be?"
"How's it between you and Mira?"
When Garrett face darkened, I raised an eyebrow. "Bullseyes, right? You want to
talk about it?"
When he didn't answer, I weakly lifted myself onto the counter and swung my legs
back and forth as Garrett washed his hands.
"As a friend, I'd like to listen."
"You should be in bed. I don't have time."
I snorted, rolling my eyes as I observed him. "You have enough time to pick up a
thousand pieces of a bowl but not enough to have a friendly chat with your best
buddy?"
"Toben isn't here."
"Ouch. That stung." I replied with mock hurt, knowing well that he was just bein
g stubborn. "Well, as your second best friend, tell me."
With a resigned look on his dark face, Garrett sighed and muttered fine angrily.
"What do you want to know?" He asked grouchily, sitting next to me.
"Why are you pissed off?"
"Because I'm upset with Mira." He replied in a 'duh' tone, one that I merely ign
ored.
'What'd she do to get you so riled up?"
"Besides staying out late with her massusse, bothering the hell out of my family
, and invading my room with her stuff, and always ask me if she come with me, sh
e just announced to her friends that we're engaged. No doubt that'll be in the t
abloids very soon." The frustration in his voice made me sympathetic.
"You haven't proposed?"
"And I wasn't planning on it either." He muttered grimly.
I looked up, surprised, and then felt immediately awkward. Why didn't he plan on
proposing?
"Kirsten, you're getting pale. Would you like me to make something for you?"

I looked up into Garrett's warm grey eyes. "Actually, could you make some spaghe
tti?"
It was too late when he placed a steaming hot plate in front of me to remember t
hat spaghetti and meatballs had been the dish Garrett made when I cried myself t
o sleep and he had taken me to bed, back when our friendship had barely develope
d. However, the awkward part of the memory would have to be our tickle fight and
the compromising situation we were in when Toben came. Ah, the Kirett sundae. W
hat a long time ago.
"Good?" Garrett asked, sitting next to me.
"Like heaven." I replied, scooping up a strand of gooey mozzerella cheese. "So b
ack to the story. Why haven't you propsed to her yet?"
Garrett hesitated when I asked the question, his face getting dark and brooding
as he looked at the dark blue napkin set on the table.
"I-I don't know." He finally muttered, looking up at me with sadness. "I don't k
now why."
At that moment, as if we were in a low quality movie, the front door could be he
ard being opened and a couple seconds later, I could hear Mira shout out, "honey
? I bought some stuff. Help me with it?"
"In a second." Garrett grumbled, getting to his feet.
Mira's head popped into the kitchen and when she saw me, her blue eyes narrowed
dangerously and she crossed her hands. "What the hell were you doing with her?"
She asked venomously, shooting Garrett a scalding look.
"Cooking her food." Garrett said, just as I muttered, "what the hell were you do
ing with your massusse?"
Silence followed my statement except for the sound of my slapping my hand over m
y mouth with haste. Then Mira lunged for me, only to be caught around the waist
by a furious Garrett; whether he was angry at me or at Mira was indistinguishabl
e.
"Mira, stop." Garrett muttered patiently, his arm still firm around her waist.
"She-she just called me a cheater!"
I snorted, feeling safer as Mira stopped struggling. "Yeah and you almost called
Garrett a cheat."
Mira was furious, that much was obvious.
"Alright." I muttered groggily. "Thanks for the food Garrett. Mira, your boyfrie
nd was just as much cheating with me as you were with the massusse." I paused. "
Well... that is if you really didn't cheat on him with the massusse."
"Wait a moment." Mira said in a low tone. "Garrett would you mind leaving the tw
o of us alone for a moment?"
Garrett left, but only after looking for my nod, swiftly exiting the kitchen and
closing the door with a thud.
"What?" I asked. "I'm sick and I really need to go to bed Mira."

"You skanky bitch." Mira fumed, her eyes glaring at me. "You think he likes you
more than he likes me. Stop trying to seduce my husband!"
Wow, this woman was really delusional.
"Sorry, I'm not in need of a massusse. Thanks for asking." I replied sweetly.
Jesus, I just wanted to get killed, didn't I?
"Listen up you ho." Mira said vehemently. "Garrett is mine. And he will never be
yours."
"Listen up you dumbass." I fumed, my patience wearing thin. "I don't like Garret
t. Take him! I don't freaking care!"
Mira snorted, tossing her hair back. "Yeah? Well then why did you go to the rest
aurant with him those months ago?"
"Excuse me?"
"I read the article bitch. And I recognized you. Little Kirsten Bellini the poor
girl who managed to entrap Jake Vagress in high school." She sneered. "Don't lo
ok so surprised. I still remember you. And this time, I win again. Garrett is mi
ne. So back off."
"I was never in the way." I replied stiffly, my hands balled into fists at my si
de.
Mira lifted a manicured nail. "If I find out that you even touched him at the co
mpetition, you are ruined. I mean it. I can do things to you. Like for example,
that restaurant of yours? Yeah, that's right. I have enough money to buy that sm
all place and turn it into my workshop."
My blood boiled. Was she trying to blackmail me?
"After all, I'll have to be close to my husband."
I gave a short laugh, ready for this conversation to be over. "Have a nice eveni
ng Mira... just stay out of mine."
"Oh I'm being serious Kirsten. I can put you out of work like that. Your restaur
ant, your life? Ruined."
What a bitch.I looked over Mira for a second, her in her tight white dress and r
ed heels, not to mention the expensive jewelery, and simply shook my head.
"I'll stay away from him Mira." I muttered tiredly. "But to be frank, I was neve
r in the way. Maybe you should look elsewhere as to why you're still not engaged
."
Pausing, I noted with an ounce of satisfaction, Mira's uncomfortable expression.
And then, remembering Angela's earlier words, I muttered as nicely as possible,
I said, "I hope you get fat and stretch marks."
********************
Vote and comment!####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Thirty-Eight
####################################

Please vote and comment!

I have a question for you guys. I'm debating whether to enter as the best cover
or as the best title for the Special Awards category in the Watty Awards. I'm ki
nd of a lost case when it comes to choosing so do you guys think you could leave
me a message telling me if I should enter in the title or cover tier?
Also, check out my collection of poems for the Attys! 5000 Syllables Of Love :)
<3 Infatuated
********************
It was ten o'clock, Garrett and Mira were yelling, my room was a mess, and I was
n't done packing. With a stressed sigh, I looked at my suitcase that was filled
to the brim with fancy dresses, heels, and casual skirts and shirts, wondering
if I should bother taking everything out just to see if I put my hairbrush in. A
fter all, if I was going to be spending my time on television, wouldn't the make
up artists have plenty of brushes?
I sat back on my heels observing my messy bed and the pile of clothes that had b
een rejected by Toben who had come in earlier and sorted out all of my acceptabl
e outfits; looking at the pretty big load, my fashion obviously was not good eno
ugh for him. My eyes drifted over the memories that had been stored in this room
: the corner of the nightstand that I often stubbed my toe on, the array of pill
ows that lay on the red couch, never used because I was always afraid of getting
them dirty. God, there were a lot of remembrances in this suite, all of which I
was going to be leaving behind.
This moment reminded me of four months ago, back when I had been in the exact sa
me situation, getting uprooted again and going on another adventure, except this
time I knew what to expect and it was making me more nervous.
What if we didn't win?
I looked down at my phone, still warm from me holding it to me ear during my lon
g conversation with my mother, tracing the small scratch on the purple case. She
was not able to take me to the airport today because she had a job interview so
I spent most of my morning listening to her comforting prep talk, enjoying and
missing her presence. The confidence in her voice when she said I had the abilit
y to take home the trophy warmed my heart and made me feel as if we could do it,
even though I had occasional moments of what ifs.
"Kirsten?" Garrett yelled from below, his voice echoing, sounding tired and tint
ed with anger. "You ready yet?"
Groaning as I slowly lifted the weight off my toes and onto my legs, I zipped up
my bag, shoving my hairbursh dilemma to the side and opened the door to the hal
lway, pushing my suitcase behind as I shut my bedroom door, sparing my room one
last glance. Then I took a deep breath, which was hard considering the tightness
of my white button up shirt, and headed down the stairs, careful not to chip th
e wood with my bag's wheels.
"I'm here." I replied a second later to Garrett's question as I pulled my way do
wn the last flight of stairs to a main foyer where at least a dozen people mill
ed around. Most were familiar: Yivanni, Mr. Bianchi and his gruff countenance, A
ngela and Alonzo, a couple of workers, a red-nosed Harrison, and Mira, sadly. Ga
rrett nodded at me briefly before turning back to his company, the said model.

Allowing the butler to take my suitcase, my eyes landed on Mira's appearance and
my confidence dropped. She stood haughtily, dressed in a form fitting dark blue
blazer that looked like it was cut right for her, with a low cut sparkly white
tank top underneath. Her slender, tan legs were bare beneath a pair of white den
im shorts, accentuated by gold, strappy high heels.
In comparison, my white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows and
my simple black skirt clasped ot my stomack with a blue belt looked drab. And pr
obably costed a lot less. With a sigh, I realized that I wasn't jealous of the f
act that she was with Garrett, thank God, but because standing next to her, I al
ways felt inferior, as if I didn't deserve to be in the same room as she was.
Angela, who stood in close proximity to Mira caught my eye and waved with a frie
ndly smile on her face and I returend it before walking away, heading over to wh
ere Harrison was holding a squirming Simbah, grinning as Harrison tried to get m
y dog to stop licking his cheek.
"Thanks for coming Harrison." I said, looking up at him happily as I took Simbah
from his arms, giggling as I received a slobbery kiss. From the Scotty of cours
e.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Came Harrison's reply as he slung an arm acr
oss my shoulders. "You look beautiful today."
I blushed at his compliment, ducking my head so he wouldn't see my rosy cheeks.
"Aw, is Kirsten embarrassed?" Harrison teased, brushing away one of my locks of
hair and pushing it behing my back.
When I didn't answer, his eyes got serious and he said, "well you shouldn't be."
At that moment, Simbah wiggled out of my arms, hopping down to the granite floor
with ease before weaving between numerous pairs of legs, giving me a distractio
n from Harrison.
"Shit, that stupid dog." I muttered, turning quickly and attempting to chase aft
er the ball of fur that had disappeared behind a group of people, Harrison follo
wing closely behind me, his warm hand sliding into mine. Sadly, I wasn't nearly
adept at sidling between individuals as my dog seemed to be, especially with Har
rison walking right behind, but I found him a couple seconds later, much to my r
elief and horror.
There Simbah sat, barking wildly at Mira as she screamed and scurried behind Gar
rett's form, trotting around Garrett's legs to follow the model as Mira raced aw
ay futilely in her skyhigh heels. Then when she was finally still, unable to mov
e anywhere except closer to the corner where she was trapped, Simbah lifted his
leg, right over Mira's trembling heeled foot. And peed. My hand fell from Harris
on's as I stood there shocked.
It was almost like everything went in slow motion. I saw his pee hit her shiny g
old shoe, each complimenting the same shade of yellow, and soak through her pant
yhose, hearing so clearly as Mira screamed bloody murder and loudly curse my dog
, only to be shut up when Simbah landed another load on her other shoe, her eyes
growing wide and her mouth open and sputtering in absolute shock.
Mira stood there in shame, her entire frame trembling uncontrollably, standing i
n a puddle of my dog's pee with her feet probably soaking. For a second she just
stood there but then she screamed loudly at the top of her voice, "GARRETT!!"

Garrett appeared behind me, slowly approaching her, and with a sob, Mira lurched
towards him only to forget that my dog was right below her feet. One of her sho
es caught his small frame and she went toppling forward, shrieking as she hit th
e granite floor, her hands flailing in the air dramatically.
Her blazer was wrinkled and her white tanktop looked slightly stained with somet
hing yellow and I didn't even want to describe the state of her shoes and pantyh
ose. Suddenly, I didn't feel as if I looked shabby compared to her as I did only
a minute ago.
Beside me, Garrett stilled and suddenly, he began shaking. I looked up, concerne
d at his movement, only to see him try to supress a humourous laugh and a wicked
smile. I was torn. I didn't know whether to feel mortified, gleeful, or sorry b
ecause all I could do was stare as Mira slowly stood up with a humiliated look o
n her face and Simbah barked happily, waving his tail and trotting over to me.
"I told you I wouldn't have missed this for the world." Harrison whispered into
my ear, his hand finding mine again as he started to chuckle softly.
And that was it, I couldn't help but start giggling hysterically, ignorant of Mi
ra's death stare and the looks of the others around me as Garrett, Angela, and H
arrison joined me in my mirth.
Needless to say, Mira was pissed. Pun intended.
********************
Thanks to Simba, the only people to get in the limo were Angela, Alonzo, Mr. Bia
nchi, Garrett, Harrison, and I, Mira thankfully absent because of the little inc
ident earlier. The atmosphere had lifted slightly and to my surprise, Mr. Bianch
i would occasionally chuckle, shaking his head as he sipped his brandy and looke
d out the window.
But for Garrett and Harrison, the moment of comrade ship between the two after w
hat happed to Mira, was lost.
"You're going to get Kirsten sick." Garrett muttered angrily, tapping his finger
on the seatrest.
"And possibly you so why are you so concerned about Kirsten?" Harrison shot back
, giving Garrett a glare of his own.
"Of course I'm worried! She's my sous!"
"Yeah, and she's my girlfriend so back off."
The look on Garrett's face, mixture of surprise and something else caught me off
guard and I realized that he didn't that Harrison and I were dating.
"Okay guys... let's break it up now?" I asked softly, squeezing Harrison's hand
gently and giving Garrett a small smile hoping to subdue them both.
Silence was my answer.
We arrived at the Denver International Airport in less than twenty minutes and i
mmediately I wished that it had taken longer the second Garrett muttered, "you c
an't come in Harrison." when Harrison tried to unbuckle his seatbelt.
"Yeah? And why's that?" Harrison replied, raising an eyebrow at Harrett.

"I can't go in either boy." Mr. Bianchi muttered gruffly. "Don't take it persona
lly. Only the people with the ids and tickets can go into the gate for the perso
nal jet."
Harrison relaxed a bit and turned to me, giving me a small smile. "I guess this
is good bye then."
I shook my head furiously, burying my face into his warm shoulder and inhaling h
is comforting scent. "It's not goodbye Harrison. I'll be back for Christmas."
He nodded before hugging me tightly to his chest and stroking my hair. When he r
eleased me, he stared straight into my eyes and planted a soft kiss on my forehe
ad and muttered quietly. "You can do it Kirsten. Go out there and beat everyone
up, okay?"
I nodded and unclipped my seatbelt, slowly getting out of the limo but stilling
when Harrions said one last thing. "Remember Kirsten. You're beautiful."
Then, with a brief nod, he reached over and tugged the door close, giving me one
more smile before he completely disappeared behind the tinted window, leaving m
e with my suitcase and my fellow team members.
Here we go.
The jet was huge, with nice, plush seats (much needed leg room included), minire
frigerators, and several plasma televisions. It was so big that I glared at Garr
ett when he said, "you're in my seat."
"Are you kidding me?" I asked with a roll of my eyes. "They're like twenty billi
on seats in here. Can't you choose another one?"
"Yeah but they're all window seats." He replied gruffly, prodding me with his to
e.
"And what's wrong with window seats?"
"Nothing. So go sit in one." Garrett growled impatiently, sending me a death gla
re as Angela snickered across the jet."
"Don't tell me." I muttered gleefully. "You're afraid of heights!"
"Kirsten..." Garrett warned.
"First bumblebees and now heights?"
"Thats not the reason why." He refused to meet my stare his stance becoming unco
mfortable as he loomed over me.
"Then what is?"
"Kirsten..."
I glared up defiantly, secretly enjoying myself. I had no problem switching seat
s with him; I just wanted to figure out what had him so freaked out. "I'm not mo
ving till your telling."
He glared and me but with a huff he muttered. "Imafraidoftheclouds."
"What was that? I couldn't hear you correctly."

"I'm afriad of the goddamned clouds! Now move your ass over there!" Garrett shou
ted, causing a young flight attendant to raise her eyebrow and head over to us w
ith a fake smile on her face.
"Okay, okay." I surrendered, putting my hands up in the air for a second before
grabbing my stuff and scootching over to the seat with the view of the ground.
"What's wrong with clouds?" I asked, ignoring the stewardess that flashed Garret
t a bright smile.
"They remind me of whipped cream."
I snorted, falling onto the heavenly soft cushions and looking at Garrett as he
situated his stuff. "You, you have suddenly become less manly."
"Ha! That's far from the truth Kirsten. I'm as manly as humably possible."
"I know quite a few guys that are just as attractive and aren't afraid of clouds
and bees."
"Like Harrison?" Came Garrett's reply and immediately I shut my mouth.
"Tell me why you're afraid of whipped cream." I muttered slowly after a couple o
f seconds, trying to steer the conversation back to its former topic.
With a sigh, Garrett rolled his eyes and took off his sweater. "You're just so d
amn persistent. Fine, I'll tell you but don't laugh. It was back in high school
and me and a couple of guys were just horsing around when one of them pulled out
a bottle of whipped cream. Have you ever heard of the cinammon challenge?"
I nodded. "Where you have to eat a tablespoon of cinammon?"
"That's right. Except this time it was a whole bottle of whipped cream. So me be
ing the cocky guy, I decided to squirt an entire bottle into my mouth. You know,
just to show off and all. Well I managed to swallow all of it but an entire bot
tle of whipped cream is enough to upset anyone's digestive system with all that
oil and cream so then I threw up. My mouth tasted like sour milk for an entire w
eek."
"So what if one of the necessary ingredients is whipped cream? Are you unable to
handle a little fluff?" I teased, cocking an eyebrow as Garrett scowled at me.
"Of course I can handle it. But when we're ten thousand feet in the air, looking
down and seeing the clouds makes me want to puke."
Picking up my bag, I muttered, "okay, in that case, I think I'm going to another
seat so I won't get puke all over me."
Before I could walk a step, Garrett grasped my hand lightly making me pause and
look down at him, a sense of deja vu hitting me suddenly. This was his favorite
thing to do with me wasn't it? Grasp my hands and look at me with a puppy dog lo
ok on his face, knowing well enough that I would stop and fall for his whims and
charms.
"What?" I asked abruptly, trying to wiggle my hand out of his grasp.
"I promise I won't throw up. Sit back down again, please?"
Looking into his dark grey eyes, I felt myself succumb just like many times befo
re.

"So you and Harrison." Garrett said once I sat back down in my seat, his voice l
ight though a bit strained.
I stiffened then paused before saying, "yeah, me and him."
Garrett nodded slowly as the captain spoke over the speaker. "Ladies and gentlem
en, please fasten your seatbuckles and remain seated until your flight attendant
allows you to do otherwise. I'll be your pilot for today flight. Thank you for
choosing Frontier and we hope you have a safe journey."
"I hope it works out for you guys." Garrett muttered stiffly once the jet began
moving down the runway.
"That didn't sound too sincere." I remarked, gripping my seatrest as we began to
pick up speed.
Garrett looked over at me with a sad expression on his face. "Yeah? Well it was
meant to be sincere."
"Why do you care so much?" I asked as I felt the jet lift into the air with a so
ft roar.
"Isn't it obvious Kirsten?" Garrett whispered his voice almost lost over the din
. "It's because... because you're my sous chef."
********************
We landed at the LAX airport around two when the sun was high in the air, toasti
ng me when I stepped onto the black pavement. Everywhere, there were people shou
ting , cars were honking their horns, and flashy billboards were already in sigh
t. The landscape, mainly big buildings and palm trees, coupled with the heat hit
me hard as I realized that California was nothing like Colorado. I managed to l
ook around for a second, my former grogginess gone, before Garrett pushed me in
to the waiting limosine, followed shortly by Angela and Alonzo.
"What were you doing Kirsten?" Garrett hissed softly as we headed down the stree
t. "There's paparazzi everywhere."
"I'm sorry." I said, peering out the window and finally noticing the people mill
ing around with cameras, shouting questions and waving their arms to gain our at
tention. "It's just so cool."
He snorted but Angela nodded her head, her blond curls flying into the air. "Isn
't it awesome? I'm superexcited."
Garrett's face soften a little as he looked outside at the blurred images. "I gu
ess Cali's pretty awesome."
I watched the numerous buildings, drinking in the sight of the blue sky and gree
nery so uncommon during the wintertime in Colorado. Slowly, the scenery began to
change as we headed to the outskirts of Los Angeles.
"Where are we going to right?" I asked, turing to Garrett and Alonzo who were bo
th looking down at their smartphones.
Angela answered me while glaring at her distracted boyfriend who looked like he
was playing a game on the screen. "We have a photoshoot to go to right now."
My blood ran cold. Garrett never mentioned a photoshoot or anything of the likes

of it, just a meeting with the producers of ICAF and an interview.

"What?"
Angela rolled her eyes, poking Garrett's arm as he valiantly fought off the gree
n pigs. "You didn't tell Kirsten about the photoshoot?"
He briefly looked up from his phone, glancing at me before returning his attenti
on elsewhere. "Yep. It's going to be our photos for the section International Co
oking is running on ICAF. And our images that their running for the ICAF commerc
ial. No big deal."
No big deal? What the hell was Garrett sprouting? This was a huge deal to me. Af
ter all, being a small country girl for my entire life, I never got the chance t
o have a photoshoot not to mention shooting a commercial. Suddenly, my excitemen
t was hyped up by a thousand times.
We arrived in front of a looming white building with the words Lavish Studios sc
rawled over a silver sign around ten minutes later, coming to a smooth stop righ
t in front of the silver double doors that were wide open, waiting for us. Garre
tt was the first one out of the car followed by me, skaing with excitement and n
erves.
"Calm down Kirsten. Gosh." Garrett muttered out of the corner of his mouth as th
e air conditioning hit us and the receptionist stood up with a chirpy expression
on her face.
"Welcome to Lavish Studios! You must be team America! Lauren's just finishing up
with the Australians so if you could take a seat over there, that would be wond
erful!"
"Austrailians?" I asked, smoothing down my skirt nervously.
Garrett looked over at me. "She means the Australian team for ICAF. Everyone's g
etting their photos and videos done here."
I nodded, signfying that I understood before I sat down and admired the lobby. T
he walls were solid white littered with pictures and portraits of previous works
that this 'Lauren' must of done. An image of Taylor Swift in one of her old alb
ums hung proudly from the wall, a signature scrawled across the bottom, while se
veral magazine leaflets, ranging from Vogue to Elle, were framed around the roo
m.
"Lauren's a freelancer now but she used to work for Vogue America, W, and Elle b
ack in the days." The receptionist informed me, noting my awed expression. "Rath
er talented I must say. Can make a rag look stylish in a picture."
Just then four men headed out of one the sidedoors, laughing loudly as they patt
ed each others' backs. "Mate, that was so cool. When I signed up for cooking, I
wasn't expecting this!" One blond guy crowed, an infectious smile on his tanned
face.
"Hey dude, that was awesome."
They stopped in front of the receptionist's desk and I could see with a small sm
ile that she falling over her face to please the rather attractive group, a blus
h creeping up her face as she thanked them for coming in. Before they left thoug
h, one of them turned to us and his eyes widened when he saw Garrett, with his n
ormal stormy expression on his face, sitting next to me.

"Hey mate, you must be the American Team, right? Garrett Bianchi? Austin Simpson
my name."
Garrett smiled, standing up and shaking the other man's hand as the rest of the
group shuffled over, exchanging pleasantaries.
"Damn dude, I'm so excited for this! I guess we'll be seeing you later tonight a
t the interview, right?"
"Yeah bro! This is like an adventure!" Another crowed.
From the same door they exited, a petite blonde women entered the lobby, her eye
s scanning the crowd before landing on our little group. She stood at about five
feet but her posture was ram rod straight and confident as she yelled, "I need
Team America now!"
We untangled ourselves from the Australians who shouted well wishes before infro
nt of the small woman. "You guys Garrett, Kirsten, Alonzo, and Angela?" She aske
d coolly, assessing each of us with her blue eyes. When we nodded, she silently
went back through the door and we followed her down a dimly lit hallway.
When we reached the end, the room expanded and it was evident that it was we wer
e now in the makeup room. There were a dozen lit mirrors on small tables filled
with lip gloss, foundation, eyeliner, and eyeshadow and well as an assortment of
hair product.
"I'm Lauren, your photographer for today's shoot. I'm going to need y'all to fol
low your makeup artist's orders and I'll meet you guys in an hour. Sound good?"
The presumed Lauren said, locking eyes with each of us. Even though she was the
shortest of us all, I felt rather small compared to her confident disposition.
"Pierre? I want you to fix up this brunette girl over here. I want the works: sm
oky eyeshadow, red lipstick, you know where I'm going with this right?" Lauren b
arked, tugging me to one of the stools.
Instinctively, I looked around to see a grumpy, fat Frenchman waving his spatula
at me, but instead, a skinny bald guy with a tribal tattoo on his left arm smil
ed at me and came over to where I was. Even though it wasn't on purpose, his pre
sence made me miss L'amore a bit more.
"Hi there! I'm Pierre and I'll be your makeup aritst for the day. You're Kirsten
, right?"
I nodded, gripping the sidearms of the chair as he assessed my facial structure
and skin tone. After a couple of seconds, he nodded slowly and grabbed certain s
upplies from the table. "Okay so you probably do your makeup yourself but you're
going to have to trust me. I promise I won't poke an eye out and I promise to m
ake you look fabulous, okay?"
I nodded again and he chuckled, shaking his head as he muttered, "you're a quiet
one."
The whole makeup process was quite tedious. First, I had to change into my outfi
t for the shoot which consisted of a tight, sleeveless, American flag dress that
was decorated with random stripes and stars but was mainly white with blue sill
oettes and a simple silver necklace. Pierre then probably spent ten minutes on m
y foundation, smoothing heavy cream over my face before applying the small detai
ls. He curled my eyelashes, layered my lips with a coat of bright red lipstick t
hat matched my dress, dusted some blush over my cheeks, and applied a dark grey
eyeliner and eyeshadow to my eyelids.

Then, I was forced to spin around and look at myself in the mirror, and when I d
id, I was shocked. My face looked flawless, my lips puckered just a bit with a h
int of shine from the lipstick, and the blue of my eyess stood out from under my
dramatic, grey eyeshadow.
"You like it, cherie?" Pierre asked as he started to brush my hair out.
I smiled and muttered yes and his laugh filled the room. "At least that's an imp
rovement from the nods."
A while later, my hair had been twisted into a sleek ponytail and I was done, gi
ngerly trying to step down from the stool without breaking an ankle. Pierre hel
ped me and I tottered over to where Angela was waiting. Angela had been giving a
n au natural look with pale pink lip gloss that glistened in the mirror lights,
silvery eyeshadow that was barely visible in contrast to her skin color, and a r
ed chiffon dress that landed mid thigh. Her hair had been let loose, a couple cu
rly blond tendrils creeping down the front of her low cut dress.
"Damn girl, you're looking fine." Angela drawled in a teasing voice, hooking her
arm around mine. "Garrett won't be able to take his eyes off of you."
I winced. "That's what I'm not going for."
Angela scoffed and patted my arm as we exited the makeup room and headed to wher
e the set was being put up. Two figures stood off to the side, Garrett and Alonz
o. They turned at the sound of our heels clicking against the granite floor and
I smiled shyly when Garrett's eyes eyes widened.
He was dressed in a simple white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows underneath
a dark blue vest with a pair of black dress pants and black polished shoes. Alon
zo was in a red sweater with a white tie and blue dress pants. Both of them has
slicked back hair though Garrett's was messier than Alonzo's.
"Hey hunk." Angela said with a wink.
Garrett crowed back in a high pitched voice, "hey babe!"
"Shut up asshole." Alonzo muttered, slinging his arm around Angela's waist and p
lanting a kiss on her lips.
"Careful!" Lauren shouted. "You can't screw up the makeup damnit!"
"Oops." Alozno whispered as Pierre came hurrying over with a stick of pink lipgl
oss.
After everything was ready, my hair resprayed, Angela's makeup fixed, Lauren dir
ected us to the set. It was rather simple, just a white backround with faint sta
rs and red striped inked on it but there was an array of kitchen items set to th
e side in the props area, knifes included.
Here we go. I thought for the second time as I stepped onto the set.
Hopefully Angela won't drive a metal scewer through anyone's stomach.
********************
This originally was going to include the photoshoot and the interview but then I
realized it took up way too many transitions so I cut it off here... please VOT
E!! And answer my question: cover or title for the Special Awards?##############

######################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Thirty-Nine
####################################
You guys got me to #25 on Teen Fiction and #88 on the Watty Awards. That means s
o damn much to me you probably can't understand. I cried when I saw my ranking ;
). Please continue commenting and voting?
But anyways, do you guys think that maybe you could vote and comment for this ch
apter like you did last? I have a question for you: who do you think Kirsten is
going to end up with? Harrison or Garrett? Give me a reason.
NOMINATE ME FOR THE SPECIAL AWARDS FOR TITLE2012! GO TO FEEDBACK PAGE AND CLICK
NOMINATE A STORY FOR THE SPECIAL AWARDS! NOMINATE CULINARIA L'AMORE FOR BEST TIT
LE 2012. The link for my story that you must enter on the feedback page.--> http
://www.wattpad.com/story/682211-culinaria-l%27amore-watty-awards-2012 Feedback P
age: http://www.wattpad.com/feedback
<3 Infatuated
********************
Lauren swept a critical eye over us, placing her hands on her bony hip. When we
all passed her test, shifting uncomfortably under her judging stare, me looking
down at my blue pump covered feet, she took a step back and clapped her hands to
gether, making all of the cameramen and makeup artists scatter nearer to the pro
ps section.
"Alright. Garrett, Angela, Alonzo, and Kirsten. I'm personally team America, so
let's make this a good one, okay? Now, who's dating who? I want to get this whol
e chemistry love thing right cause it's more fun and to see if I can encorporate
it into the photoshoot."
We shifted awkwardly, at least me and Garrett did until I said, "Alonzo and Ange
la are currently dating."
Lauren clapped her hands again, the bracelets on her arms jangling. "Awesome! Le
t's get this started. I'm your photographer for today! Kirsten? Can I get you ne
xt Garrett? Fold your arms over, look tough with a little smirk on your face? Ye
s, yes that's great. Lean on his shoulder a little as if you need him to support
you. Pierre, fix that hair. More tough! Yeah, that's right. I want this first s
et to show off your mean side."
She paused, tilting her head to the right side. "Kirsten I want you with the kni
fe. Garrett, I want you with spatula and Angela, I want you with that huge ass g
rate. Yep, good good. Alonzo, toss that apron over your shoulder like a supersta
r."
Somewhere in the background, a fan turned on, whipping Angela's hair back as we
positioned ourselves; I stood next to Garrett, my arms crossed over and the knif
e tip in my mouth, like a pirate from Peter Pan, careful to stop my hand from sh
aking so I wouldn't slit my mouth open. The morbid appearance as blood dripped d
own my face all over my body might send the wrong message into the media world.
Garrett placed his elbow easily on my shoulder, crossing his over arm over so th
e spatula was next to my ear. Angela pouted into the camera and leaned completel
y on Alonzo from behind, her blond hair and the grater resting on his chest casu
ally. Alonzo then stood, hand on his hip with an arrogant look on his face, no s
mile, just a conceited smirk, the apron flung over his shoulder, the white contr
asting nicely with his red sweater.

"Perfect, perfect!" Lauren shouted over the camera shutter going off and the fan
noise. I could feel a trickle of sweat going down my back as I shifted a bit un
comfortable under the hot lights gleaming onto my visauge. "Angela get closer to
Garrett! It makes it look like Kirsten and Garrett are a couple and we don't wa
nt the media to gobble that up. Great! Keep that look on your face. Kirsten, nic
e creative touch with the knife! Garrett cross your arms, act more dominant and
demanding!
" New positions! You're getting the hang of it! Must all watch America's Next To
p Model in your free time. I've guest worked on that show three times already."
This time, Lauren stuck me next to Angela in the middle of the stage, wanting us
to look like the mean girls while Garrett and Alonzo shielded us from the world
. I held an egg beater in my hand, pointing it at the camera with my legs out in
an Uncle Sam position and a slice of tomato in my bare mouth, the juice trickli
ng down my chin, while Angela held a pot loosely in her hand, dangling down to h
er knee thanks to her overexaggerated relaxed position. Garrett had his arm over
Angela's waist, gripping it possesively with a knife pointing out from her hip
as Alonzo stood closely next to me, a rolling pin being slapped in his other han
d like a teacher dolling out a punishment back in the day. I must admit that we
probably looked like an intimidating group, more intimidating than the smiling A
ussies.
Lauren was constantly moving, asking us to shift around so that our arms and hea
ds were in different positions every time. After she seemed satisfied with the f
ilm that she produced on a small screen, viewing it for over five minutes as we
stood awkwardly with the props in our hands, me with a chewed up tomato, she cla
pped her hands again, it seemed to be a habit of her as a way to gain attention,
and shouted, "Dang guys, that was really good, way better than the Aussies. Let
's move on to the next section. I want some funny poses okay? Too mean makes us
look like a bunch of bitches."
We all nodded our heads like obedient soldiers and got into our new positions as
she directed. I found myself sticking out my tongue and holding a chopping boar
d over my head as if I was about to break it like a crazy ninja. Garrett donned
a white apron spelling "Kiss The Chef" and held a smiley face pancake on a plate
while Angela licked a spoon covered in white frosting and Alonzo juggled plates
in his hands like an expert. Every few seconds as my tongue got drier, the came
ra flashed, and Alonzo continued to throw his props around, I would gear myself
for a big crash next to me, but none came.
I switched spots with Angela and we took a couple more shots, Lauren occasionall
y shouting orders as my shoulders, arms, and legs gradually got more tired.
Then came the last major pose. After we were 'refreshened' by makeup artists, ha
ir sprayed, lips reglossed, and bronzer reapplied, Lauren directed us around onc
e more.
"Garrett hoist Angela into your arms. Yes, don't be shy and Alonzo stop giving h
im death looks. That you growling? Alonzo, grip your girlfriends legs so that sh
e's straight from her stomach to legs. No! I don't want to see the underwear! Pi
erre? Mind getting two sets of forks and butter knives? Garrett, Alonzo, hands o
ut in front, grasp those utensils and hold them out in front of Angela's body. U
se your arm strength men. Kirsten, go get those white porcelain plates and the r
ed checkered napkins. Stick those right on Angela's body like on a table. There
we go! Kirsten squat down, no not like you're about to take a piss but act as if
you were sitting in a chair. Yep. Take that bowl of red, white and blue ice cre
am, I don't suggest eating it since it's mashed potatoes in reality. Act as if y
ou were going to take a big spoonful! Good! Now all of you, don't budge!"

Lauren's request was completely unreasonable for me as my calves strained from d

oing the sister of wall sits, my feet trembling and hurting inside of my pumps.
I envied Angela as she propped an elbow up with a smile on her face, completely
relaxed as Garrett and Alonzo held her, their arms trembling slightly under the
strain.
Finally, with a couple of last shots and more shouts, Lauren set her camera onto
a tripod and clapped her hands... again.
"You guys are so great! After your crazy culinary gig, you should totally get in
to the modelling world!"
I looked at her as if she was crazy; I was not going to spend my youth eating cu
ccummber spinach sandwiches on thin slices of whole wheat bread.
"Anyhow, Kirsten, I need you right now by yourself. I want some individual shots
of everyone and maybe some pair ones. You call them sous chefs or whatever, rig
ht? Okay then, everyone off! You all can admire. Tommy, drag that table and that
chair up for me? Kirsten, hop onto that stool. Yep like that. Trying lifting up
your right leg and placing it on the table, heel and all. Perfect! Now take tha
t fork and put it in your mouth, downside. Good good! Now give us a nice sultry
look yep!" The shutter went off a few times before Lauren beamed. "Awesome! One
more shot!"
The table was removed and I was asked to lean against the seat, bracing myself a
gain the head of the chair and putting my other hand on my hip. Pierre positione
d my hair so it spilled down the front of my dress and I stood there for a coupl
e of seconds, a placcid expression on my face as Lauren commanded.
"Alrighty! Angela, you're next!"
I stepped off the stage shakily, giving Angela a smile as I headed to Garrett an
d Alonzo who both had their arms crossed over their chests, Garrett looking at m
e while Alonzo following Angela with his eyes.
"That was really good. I liked it." Garrett whispered to me as Angela started to
do her thing.
I blushed, my hair hitting the fan and muttered a quiet 'thank you' as the camer
a continuously made sounds and Lauren praised Angela on her modelling ability.
When Garrett was called up and he walked away with a small swagger, I watched hi
m as he mounted the steps and shot Lauren a dazzling smile, confidently and easi
ly taking the pan and following her directions.
First, Garrett winked into the camera, the pan causally behind his back as if he
had just slung a jacket of his shoulder. Then, he put on a chef's hat and sat o
n the table, legs resting on a chair, but even with the ridiculous get up, he st
ill managed to looked handsome and confident doing it, as if he was right in his
element. Which he probably was since he had done photoshoots before.
After Alonzo finished with a bunch of whipped cream on his dark face, Lauren gri
nned and muttered, "Okay then! Kirsten and Garrett, you guys are up!"
I looked over at Garrett as we ascended the steps and he looked rather comfortab
le as we stood on the stage while I was feeling nervous. Ignoring the pain in my
feet, I plastered on a smile as Lauren started giving us directions.
"Garrett, you comfortable with being real close with Kirsten?"

From behind me, I could feel him stiffen, and a sad smile appeared on my face. T
hen he muttered 'no problem' in a gruff tone and Lauren smile.
"Alright then, wrap your arm around her waist, yes right there, and place your c
hin on the top of her head. There we go. Kirsten cross your arms and lean back i
nto his touch." From behind Lauren, Alonzo wolf whistled as Angela rolled her ey
es at her boyfriend before shooting me an encouraging smile.
"Loosen up guys! It's not like I'm acting you two to makeout or something!" Laur
en shouted as she shot a couple of images, frowning down at her camera.
I tried to wiggle a bit to loosen up but I was trapped in Garrett's arm and my w
iggling probably would look like I was grinding with Garrett. Regaining my posit
ion, awkwardly trying to make it professional as possible, I sighed when Lauren
signalled a scene change.
"Okay guys. Now I want you two to lean against each, back to back. Yeah, act lik
e you guys are supporting each other. Fold your arms across your chests. Look at
me! Tough, tough! Come on, add some dimension!"
After we were done, Alonzo and Angela went up and proceeded to shoot their pictu
res, one second looking into each others eyes and the next sticking out their to
ngues at the camera. Once they finally finished, Lauren clapped her hands and sh
outed, "we're halfway there guys! Who's excited for the promotional video?"
Looking down at my feet that looked swollen and red, I groaned.
********************
Pierre was waiting for me when I got back to the makeup room, a row of hangers,
attached to numerous articles of clothing, on his skinny, tattooed arm.
"You were really good." Pierre mused, as he inspected me. "Real good for a newbi
e."
"Thanks." I muttered tiredly, groaning when I saw the ever present array of make
up and accessories. "Now what do I have to do?"
"Here." Pierre chirped, shoving the hangers into my hands. "Take these and put t
hem on. I won't watch, I promise. Then we'll go from there."
Quickly stipping out of the flag dress and my shoes, taking off my necklace and
earrings with fumbling hands, I eyed the tight white dress that Pierre had shove
d into my hands before putting it on and zipping the back. I admired the style a
nd cut of the dress: it was obvious that the designer had gone for a dress that
looked like a chef uniform and he or she had a done an exceptional job, especial
ly with the stretchy fabric.
The top of the dress was a V, a collar pushed down to the right side by a set of
uniform buttons found on a chef's attire, revealing skin from middle to left, w
ithout a sleeve at the left. The collar edge led to a line in the fabric that wa
s sewed with the same buttons, going from the chest all the way down to the top
of my hip. The dress ended at mid-thigh and the one sleeve went down to my wrist
, the entire getup tight. Pierre paired my outfit with a pair of strappy, gold h
igh heels, dangly gold earrings, and a simple gold necklace that had to be drape
d over several times.
Pierre then ushered me into the high stool again, taking out my tight ponytail t
hat was giving me a headache and brushing out my sleek hair before taking an cur

ling iron and working on several strands of my dark hair, easily wrapping them a
round the hot rod.
After he was done with my hair, now in loose, hot curls that traveled down to th
e middle of my back, Pierre took off all my makeup. "I'm going to go for a more
natural look for the promotional video, okay?"
I nodded but then he shook his head, and scolded me for moving.
After been dusted, smoothed over, glossed, and fussed over, Pierre spung the sto
ol around for the second time so I could take a look at myself. This time, he ha
d applied a thin line of eyeliner to both eyes, swept my eyelashes up a bit more
, and then covered my eyelids in glittery, gold eyeshadow that contrasted nicely
to my green eyes. My lips had been painted with a shimmery, pale pink color, li
ghter than Angela's previous ones, and my cheeks were void of any rouge.
"Thanks so much Pierre." I muttered gratefully, smiling at him through the mirro
r.
Pierre patted me on the back and merely nodded a welcome, a smile on his thin fa
ce.
"I'm getting so sick of this." Angela muttered at me as we headed to a new room,
this time a stark white void of any color except for the black cameras and vide
o equipptment cluttered around a corner. She was dressed in the same outfit as m
e except her dress was a bright red and her shoes were blue.
"I'm getting sick of these high heels." I grumbled, looking down at my feet that
thankfully had gotten less lobster red than when they were in the blue pumps.
"Okay guys! You all looked refreshed." Lauren called out, a cameraman following
in her footsteps. "This is Andy and he's actually the head camera man at ICAF. H
e's going to be the one videotaping y'all today while I direct. Andy, meet Angel
a, Kirsten, Garrett, and Alonzo."
The portly brown-haired man flashed us a white smile, waving awkwardly around al
l the equipptment. "Nice to meet you guys." He said in a soft voice, beginning t
o set up the recorders and cameras.
"Alright! Everyone get to their x's!" Lauren shouted as everyone launched into a
bustle.
I walked quickly to a spot on the floor that was taped with electrical tape and
read Bellini. Standing over it, awkwardly close to both Angela and Alonzo, I wai
ted for Lauren's instructions, trying to ignore the camera men walking around us
and the cameras at the front of the room.
"This'll be a lot quicker than the photoshoot guys. I'm only going to need maybe
two or three shots. That's all." Lauren said, signalling to Andy.
Andy launched into action. "Okay, you all's theme will be spaghetti and meatball
s. Tommy, give Kirsten the ladle with the marina sauce, give Garrett the grater
and the hunk of cheese, pass Alonzo the dried spaghetti, and give Angela the mea
tballs."
"Kirsten, when we start, I want you to fling the sauce at the camera guy. Place
the ladle at your left hip and when we start, move your arm in a sweeping motion
so the sauce come out. Garrett, it should be pretty easy. Grate the cheese, but
looking fierce doing it. Alonzo, hold up the noddles and then break the sticks
in half and then drop it to the ground. Angela, toss your hair back and eat a bi

te of the meatball. You guys got it? I hope to finish this in one shot."
Bracing myself, I watched a guy next to the main camera hold up the black and wh
ite sign. Another shouted three, two, one and then the former guy snapped the si
gn down and I was in action. I flung the spaghetti sauce at the camera man, twis
ting my body and letting my hair fly into my face. I could hear Alonzo break the
spaghetti but couldn't tell if Angela and Garrett and done their part.
When Andy yelled cut! after what seemed like five seconds of filming, a smile we
nt on his face and he started clapping. "Awesome guys! That'll be it. You guys w
ere really amazing. Everything was perfect. We're going to edit it a bit and put
it into slow motion for the video."
Lauren clapped as well before coming over and giving everyone hugs, but all I co
uld think was that it was finally over and I was glad that I didn't have to clea
n up the mess we made.####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Forty-Four
####################################
Here's the next chapter :) VOTE!!! --------------->
Dedicated to a_colorful_dreamer because without her Garrett would not be shirtle
ss... you'll get it once you read this chapter :)
Approximately four chapters until Culinaria L'amore comes to a finish... I'm sad
yet happy, but either way, it could be great if CL could at least get to the fi
rst page for Teen Fiction.... so please vote and comment and spread the word? It
would mean so much. Vote for every chapter!
<3 Infatuated
********************
"I, I need some fresh air." I whispered quietly, trying to detach myself from Ga
rrett whose arms I had been crying in for the past five minutes. He released me
reluctantly, staring at me sorrowfully as I wiped away my tears and took a shaky
breath fleeing down the hallway to a side exit, trying to just get away from ev
eryone. He let me go, watching after me limply, before shaking his head and sink
ing to the ground, his hands running through his hands frantically.
Opening up the door, I was hoping for some quiet and solitude, but a janitor was
standing outside, smkoing and watching the cars speed by. She ignored me and I
ignored her, just looking out into the street and calming myself down, taking de
ep breaths and blinking rapidly to dry up the tears. I don't know how long I sto
od there, inhaling smoke and sniffing, but time past quickly, too quickly, forci
ng me to go back inside for the last round of the competition.
Even though I definitely wasn't in the mood to chop or stir or cook, period, I p
ut on a brave face, nodded with a small smile when Angela asked me if I was okay
, and just followed all of the orders given to me by Alonzo and Garrett, half th
e time not even realizing what I was doing until something started smelling.
All this time, as I made dish after dish, my mind was focused with what events h
ad just occurred in less than 24 hours ago. First, Mira decided to get a miscarr
iage, Garrett cried, we fell asleep together, he kissed me on national televisio
n where my boyfriend was going to see, and my mother was about to sell my restau
rant.
Mira miscarrying was partially my fault because I didn't restrain my dog but at

the same time I wasn't too guilty. Did I only think like that because I wanted h
er to lose the kid, as awful as it sounded, so that I could end up with Garrett?
Did I even like Garrett that way?
The second question was easy to answer: yes, I really did like him, even though
I did have a boyfriend. How twisted could that be: this entire time, all of thes
e months, I liked Garrett, and when he broke up with me, I went directly to Harr
ison as my rebound, all the time still guilty for getting over Garrett so quickl
y. And now it seemed to be happening again except it was the other way around pr
actically.
"It seems like Kirsten is unsure of what to do next in Team America? Is she pani
cking?" I snapped out of my thinking when James chuckled gleafully and all camer
as trained their lens on me. Shaking my head, irritated that James was being so
annoying, I continued slicing the carrots, my mind a blank slate so that I would
n't get distracted again.
By the time we finally finished and the buzzer rang, signaling that the competit
ion was over and that I wouldn't have to be on TV until tomorrow morning to see
who was going to win, I had made up my mind as to how to deal with Garrett.
I was going to ignore anything that had happened between us and make a batch of
triple chocolate brownies when we got home.
********************
"You're doing what?"
"I'm making brownies. You want to help?"
Garrett's eyebrows shot up an inch to his forehead and a sad look crossed featur
es. It was an hour later after we had finished filming and I had pulled Garrett
into the kitchen to talk to him, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had oc
curred; he obviously thought that I was going to saying something important, muc
h to his disappointment.
"You.. want to make... brownies?"
I rolled my eyes and padded over to the cupboard and opened the doors, revealing
a box of Ghiradelli brownie mix. "Yeah. I found these lying around in here this
morning. Do you want to help?"
Garrett looked over his shoulder where Alonzo and Angela were making out on the
sofa. With a small sigh, he turned to me and nodded, rolling up his sleeves and
grabbing a bowl from the cupboard. "Sure. Why not?"
The most ironic thing on the planet was that Garrett, the all amazing chef who w
as in the running to win the International Culinary Arts Festival, didn't know h
ow to make simple, box brownies.
"Garrett! What the hell are you doing?" I yelled as Garrett tried to mix the oil
and milk together, ten minutes later.
"I've never made brownies before and I've never really learned how to bake." Gar
rett mumbled, staring at the mixture in his hand, a bashful look on his face.
"My god. Garrett, I'm finally better than you!" I crowed, waving my spatula in t
he air. "I know how to make boxed brownies, and you don't! Ha!"
"Oh shut up." He muttered playfully, a slight smile on his face as he watched my

celebratory dance.
"Sorry." I said with a grin, coming to a halt in front of him while mixing the b
atter quickly. "Want some batter?" I looked down at the bowl and wiped some off
the side before sticking my finger in my mouth and licking it all off. When I lo
oked up, Garrett was staring intently at me, or more like my mouth, his soft loo
k going hard as his eyes met mine.
"I, um, I gotta go." He muttered softly, backing off.
"Huh? Where?" I asked. Calling after him as he tried to exit the kitchen, I set
the bowl down. "Do you not want a brownie?"
The playful atmosphere immediately disappered as he frowned at me. "I'm going to
go work out. I don't want a brownie."
'What a classic assholish Garrett move.' I thought as he fled, turning around th
e corner, and not knowing what I had done to have him act like he did the first
few times I had met him. 'One second he's nice and sweet, and the next, a comple
te jerk.'
When I finished putting my brownies into the oven, I fled to my room, turning a
blind eye to Alongela, and flopped on my bed, staring at my phone on my nightsta
nd. Harrison still hadn't called and now I was afriand he never was going to: th
e suspense was killing and I contemplated calling him before shaking my head and
letting my phone drop back onto the comforter. I was too much of a coward.
The pillows felt nice against my back as I kicked off my shoes and removed my ap
ron, draping it over the chair, wishing that I had never asked Garrett to help m
e.
But, I had to admit, it was nice to know that I was better at someting than he w
as.
I woke up a half an hour later to the sound of the kitchen clock go off and Alon
zo and Angela cursing as the noise startled them from whatever they were doing.
Bolting out of the bedroom, I reached the oven just in time to hear the last rin
g. Putting on an oven mitt, I gingerly took out the pan and set it on the stove,
admiring out perfect this match turned out. Looking over at the refridgerator t
hat was empty, I sighed-if there had been a tub of cookie dough icecream in ther
e and a chick flick in the living room shelf, my life would be perfect. Staring
down gloomily at my pan, I poke a fork through the middle and started cutting, p
ractically sawing through the gooey chocolate. Garrett told me to not go after h
im? That was exactly what I was going to do. If he got a stomach ache from eatin
g my brownie then excersizing, screw him. Any way, I was going to shove it down
his throat if that was the last possible option, then get some answers.
What I didn't realize was that one: I didn't know if he had gone to the gym, two
: I didn't know where the gym was, and three: how was I supposed to smuggle a br
ownie into the gym, if he was even there?
Grabbing a light jacket and shoving a brownie into a plastic bag, I tucked it in
to my coat pocket and headed out, grabbing a key as the door slowly closed behin
d me.
First, I headed down to the main office, hoping that I didn't look like I was gu
ilty of sneaking food anywhere, and asked where the gym was. After getting lost
by crossing the street instead of just walking straight down, I finally rounded
the corner and breathed a sigh of relief as the gym doors came into view. Lookin

g down at my jeans and flip flops, far from excersize-appropriate attire, I push
ed the door open, trying to find where Garrett was among all of the equipptment.
I found him a second later, his shirt tucked into the back of his shorts as he
sprinted on the treadmill, his breath coming out in short pants.
Gulping, I felt for the brownie in my pocket, trying not to admire Garrett's bod
y. His back was nice and tan, a slight line down his back as he flexed his shoul
der muscles, and I bet he looked just as nice in front.
Thank god no one else was in here.
"Hi." I said softly, slowly approaching him, twirling my hair around my finger a
nd biting my lower lip.
He looked into the mirror that he was facing, making eye contact with my reflect
ion. "Hey." He replied, turing the treadmill off and facing me, slowly hopping o
ff. I maintained my self control and forced myself to look at his eyes and no wh
ere else, though I had already caught a glimpse in the mirror. He wasn't exactly
bulky, more lithe like a swimmer, but it was evident that he had a nice six pac
k going on under the slight sheen of sweat on his body.
"What do you want?" Garrett asked gently, walking past me and sitting down at so
me ab crunching thing, changing the weights to 100 pounds before situating himse
lf and pushing down, the muscles on his stomach flexing dangerously under my gaz
e.
"I, uh, I, I wanted to give you a brownie." I stuttered, blushing slightly as a
small grin crept up the side of Garrett's mouth, his eyes twinkling a bit though
he still seemed a bit upset about something.
"Yeah? Where is it?" He asked, sitting up and facing me, bare chest and all.
"Um, it's right here." I fumbled for a second, before extracting the brownie bag
and passing it to him, looking directly into his face the entire time, not want
ing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how nice he was looking at this mome
nt.
"Well, thanks. Is that all?" He took a big bite, running a hand throug his hair
as he devoured the snack I brought him.
I sat down gingergly at some bike leg workout thing, draping my arm lightly over
some squishy rod thing. This entire time, I was painfully reminded of the times
I went to the gym, equivalent to zero. "Since when did you work out?"
Garrett grinned at me over the little bag. "Chefs don't stay fit if all they do
is eat. I workout all the time."
I nodded, blushing a little. I hadn't meant to ask that question: it came up sud
denly when I took a look at his nice six pack.
"Anything else, or was that the only question?"
I looked into his innocent looking eyes before sighing. "Yeah, actually. Garrett
?"
"Mhm?"
"Why'd you kiss me today?" I asked quietly, looking down at my entertwined finge
rs.

He froze across from me before swallowing a little nervously as if he was chokin

g on his brownie. "I got so excited, I guess. I apologize."
So now he was going for the cool-toned, nonchalant attittude? I could play with
that. "Oh it's not big deal. After all, I was just closer right? You would have
just made out with Angela if she was standing next to you, I bet."
His dark grey eyes flashed a bit and narrowed, him standing up and heading to a
machine with two handles and a bunch of weights hanging off of it.
"Exactly." He replied cooly. Just as he was about to reach for the black handles
, his phone rang, and he cursed. I wanted to cuss too: this conversation was goi
ng nowhere where I wanted it to go.
"Hello? Oh, hi Mira."
A pause.
"I'm sorry I didn't call you earlier. I was competing."
"You were watching?"
A pause.
"Yeah, and um, how was it?"
A pause before a loud girly voiced started yelling at Garrett over the phone.
"What? You're upset that I kissed her?"
I winced, mentally slapping my head. Of course Mira was going to be watching. Ju
st like Harrison was.
"Mira we're not together anymore." Garrett replied calmly, placing his hand on h
is hip.
"I never asked you to marry me!"
Shooting me an apologetic look, Garrett exited the gym, leaving me there with dr
ead settling in my stomach. I was getting no where: what was going to happen whe
n Harrison called? What if Garrett didn't like me, just wanted to make Mira jeal
ous?
When Garrett came back inside, I was quietly sobbing, wiping away a few stray te
ars and Garrett hurried over to me.
"I'm so sorry, Kirsten. Are you okay?"
I nodded, looking up at him, broken. "My life's screwed. I've betrayed a friend
and my restaurant's about to be given to someone else. But yeah," I laughed shak
ily, "I'm fine."
Garrett stiffened at the mention of the restaurant and I wondered if Mira was be
hind it all like she threatened she would do and Garrett knew.
"Wait for me Kirsten. I'll be back before eight, okay?"
Before I could reply, Garrett bolted out of the door, struggling to put on his s
hirt as he disappeared, leaving me wondering if I wanted to wait for anything an
ymore. He had fleed again, and even though I was in the gym and I hadn't excersi

zed, I was still emotionally and physically exhausted. So, I let him go.
********************
Dinner was a quiet affair among me, and Alongela, us eating some box mac and che
ese we had found in the pantry. We had concurred that we were too tired to cook
a meal, and since Garrett still wasn't back, I was too lazy to care what went in
my mouth at this time. Alongela excused themselves before darting into my bedro
om again, the door slamming loud enough for me to remind myself that I was all a
lone.
After I quickly rinsed off my plate in the sink, I popped in the only DVD I foun
d in the living room, Iron Man One and Two, and settled on the couch with anothe
r brownie and a decorative blanket. The time slowly passed by as the ever handso
me Robert Downey Junior stood over a small fire with soot all over his face as h
e built his Iron Man suit in a dingy cave. Soon, it was nine as Robert got into
his suit and promptly crashed into one of his flashy cars, and Garrett still was
n't home from where he was supposed to be.
I cried a couple of times as Pepper was left alone on the balcony as Tony, playe
d by Robert Downey Junior, left, going off to save some people, but Pepper didn'
t know that. She was just a poor girl, in love with her hot, womanizing boss.
If only Garrett had gone off to do something nice instead of just deserting me a
s I felt like he had did.
After Iron Man One finished and Iron Man Two started, my eyes started growing he
avy as the TV screen seemed to blind me. I snuggled against the blanket, trying
to get warm, as Tony waved to a massive crowd.
At some point in the movie, I fell into a dreamless state in front of the televi
sion. Whem I woke up, startled because something had caused me to be alert, Tony
and Pepper were making out as the credits started rolling and my phone was ring
ing at the same time.
Looking down at the screen with a squint, I didn't recognize the number flashing
there, but with a sigh and a rub of my eyes, I picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Hello, is this Kirsten Bellini?" an unfamiliar voice asked.
"Um, yeah it is." I replied, turning down the volume of the movie and rolling ov
er to see that it was eleven thirty.
"Hi, this is the Orange County hospital."
"Um, hi?" Dread started to fill in my stomach.
"I'm sorry miss but could you please come down to the hospital? Your boyfriend's
gotten into a car crash."
********************
Vote if you want more. Vote if you think Garrett is delish. Vote if you weren't
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Comment too! I loving hearing you guys go all hysterical on me.#################
###################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Forty

####################################
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********************
By the time we straggled back to the idling limo, dressed in our regular clothes
, and shoes (thank God), it was easy to say that everyone was on the verge of fa
lling asleep on the leather seats.
"Hot damn, I'm tired." Alonzo muttered sleepily as the limo turned off the stree
t and onto the highway, rolling a little and nearly landing on Garrett's lap.
"Wish man, that ain't cool." Alonzo grumbled, resituating himself and blinking g
roggily at me. Then his gaze flickered behind me and he muttered, "oh screw this
." and stood up, tottering a little like I was earlier in my high heels before k
neeling on my bench seat thingy and toppling over, hitting the next row of seats
behind me with a thump and a snore. It was miracle he didn't hit his head on th
e low ceiling.
Garrett simply snorted at his co-chef's noises before rubbing a hand over his ey
es and shaking his head. Leaning over to the right where Angela had cupped her s
kin and was dead out next to the window, Garrett opened the minifridge attached
to the wall and extracted two Starbucks coffee cans.
"Here," Garrett muttered in a rough voice, "this should help with the sleepiness
. "
I nodded and managed to catch the can after fumbling clumsily, welcoming the col
d glass bottle and slowly peeling off the safety plastic and gripping the cap, t
rying to twist it off. It must of been my tired movements and frazzled mind that
I glared at my drink as if it was the spawn of the devil, all the while twistin
g it with all my strength.
With a sigh, Garrett leaned across the space between us and snatched the drink f
rom between my fingers, and in one swift move, he popped the cap open and handed
it back.
"How the hell...?" I mumbled groggily, welcoming the rich coffee taste of a moch
a frappachino as it slid down my parched throat, enjoying the sips slowly.
Garrett on the other hand, gulped his iced coffee in what seemed like two gulps,
tossing it easily into the silver trash can all in one breath.
"If anyone's falling asleep in the middle of the ICAF interview, it's going to b
e me. Coffee doesn't do shit to me." He muttered with a groan, as he fished out
another bottle from the fridge, looking at me under half open silver eyes.
"Why don't you take a nap like those two?" I asked, gesturing at the peaceful An
gela and the snores coming from behind me.
"Remember that time you cried into my shirt when I made you spaghetti and then w
e ended up falling asleep together?"

I nodded, blushing slightly at the memory so long ago.

"Yeah, well like that time, I suck at getting up. I'm one of the heaviest sleepe
rs out there."
"So? I can wake you up when we get to the ICAF studio. With a slap." I replied n
onchalantly, not understanding what the issue was.
Garrett looked down at his watch, frowning a bit as he read the numbers. "We get
there in ten minutes, not enough time to get any quality rest. I'll just wait
until tonight. Sorry if I start acting like a grumpy jerk."
I shrugged in return, watching the landscape fly by as we headed down the busy i
ntersection. For some miraculous reason, there seemed to be no night traffic whi
ch was strange for such a big city. Looking down at my gold watch, I stared blan
kly at the hands, noticing vaguely that it was around six before slumping in my
seat, emitting a groan.
When I next became conscious, Angela was prodding me in the forehead with her fi
nger, looking down at me worried as I sighed loudly and struggled to get up and
look presentable. Smoothing down my wrinkled blouse and straightening my skirt,
I was momentarily stunned as I looked at the massive building the car was parked
next to.
From the outside appearance, the ICAF building was highly intimidating. With a b
ig neon sign with vanilla and red letters spelling out all the words Internation
al Culinary Arts Festival, there was enough light to shine on the, I kid you not
, red carpet that extended from where the car was to the massive gold doors, pul
led apart by two doormen in a black and white unform.
"Where the hell are we?" I grumbled as a man opened up the door with a smile on
his face. "Freakin' Hollywood?"
"Well, technically we are only just a couple miles from Hollywood, so yes, we ar
e." Garrett muttered beside me as we treaded up the infintely long red carpet, m
y heels sinking a little in the soft material.
As I shot Garrett a glare for his smart remark, he merely chuckled, backing me o
n the lower back and muttered, "Now know never to talk to you when you just get
up in the morning."
Before I could deliver a biting remark right back, strobe lights out of nowhere
appeared, swinging together and splattering the light on our little group as a d
eep voice announced, "and here Team Ameria comes walking suavely up that red car
pet. To the front is Miiiisster Garrett Bianchiiii with Ms. Kirrrrsten Belliniii
right alongside!"
"What the hell?" I yelled as the overdramatic voice listed off Angela and Alonzo
's names before shutting silent, the strobe lights still iritatingly bright, tra
iled directly at us.
"Hey all and welcome! Team America right?" A friendly voice asked as we stepped
into the air conditioned building. I immediately placed the announcer voice to t
he tall, handsome man standing before us, him extending his hand out in welcome.
"I'm James Burton, your Emcee slash announcer person for the competition and y
our interviewer for tonight. Please pardon the lights as we are trying to figure
out which kind is the best for tonight's interview."
Wait.... "So, we'll be on live television when we have to walk on the red carpet
?" I gulped at the thought, imagining myself vividly twisting my heel in the car

pet and face planting on national television. I didn't know if I was up for hang
ing out in the hospital as Youtbe continuously replayed my trip.
The emcee turned to me, his white teeth sparkling in the fluoresecent lights, hi
s blue eyes friendly and curious. He stood at about six foot three with dark bro
wn hair that curled down the nape of his neck and tan skin, something that seeme
d common in California. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. Guys, if you could follow
me, we need to get your hair and makeup done for the interview."
I walked next to Garrett, trying to match my pace with him as we hurried down a
red hall with pictures of famous chefs and food on the walls. "When do we meet t
he producers and judges?" I whispered, as we turned another corner and entered a
blue hallway.
Garrett looked down at me. "After the interview."
I subdued a groan as I thought about the long night ahead. The interview was goi
ng to be at least an hour, or until nine, and as childish as it sounded, I neede
d a nap.
"Here we go." James announced cheerfully, waving his hand at a door framed by mo
vie star bulbs, labelled, 'Team America'. "Have fun guys and I'll see you on the
stage!"
I managed a smile as he turned and walked swiftly away, before slowly opening up
the makeup room and groaning when I saw a plush chair. "I call the fluffy stoo
l chair thing!" I mumbled before I collapsed into it, barely noticing the bottle
s and makeup kits on the table.
Angela chuckled as she sat next to me. "I hope you realize that everyone gets on
e of these."
I peeled my left eye open to look at her before slowly moving my eyes around the
room, thinking that I was going crazy when I was met with a roomful of soft, pl
ushy chairs like the one that I was sitting in.
"Whatever." I mumbled, struggling to sit up as four makeup artists came into the
expansive room and went to their individual chef.
A small red haired woman walked to me with a small smile on her face as she exte
nded a hand and introduced herself as Caroline. I nodded and tryed to paste on a
smile as she got busy. First, she tossed me a Vera Wang dark purple, silk dress
, demanding that I wear something less mundane. I could care less that Alonzo an
d Garrett were in the room; the dressing room was so big that I could barely mak
e out his figure.
The dress had a smooth, constricting bodice, that, dare I say, made my boobs loo
k a little bigger but not enough that it screamed 'slut!'. The bodice ended midchest where the skirt began, ruched down from one central point, an ornate gold
metal design that was pinned to my left upper-hip. The skirt didn't stop until r
ight above my knees, not too poofy with the design but not as tight as a tube sk
irt. It fit me so perfectly that it was almost creepy.
Caroline eyed me sharply before handing me a pair of Michael Kor heels in its mo
st traditional style: there was a rather wide strap with a buckle that surrounde
d the bottom of my ankle and another strap right below that one that had an unif
orm swirl desgin that went across the top of my foot. The last gold strap went o
ver my toes that had been coincidently, painted by me in a purple color. Weird.
After I struggled to put them on, I went back into my comfy seat as Caroline stu

ck a pair of simple gold earrings into my ear and placed a simple gold diamond n
ecklace on my bare neckline.
Then, the real fun began. Ah, makeup.
As one person scrubbed my fingers and painted them purple, and another combed ou
t my hair, Caroline stood over me critically with a small frown and pursed lips
always present on her face, dabbing on various powders and creams that I wasn't
allowed to look at.
By the time I was done, or rather the makeup artists were finished, Caroline spu
ng me around so I could look at myself. Two strands of my hair had been french b
raided back so amazingly, there was not hair in my face but entangled in an intr
icate but gorgeous waterfall braid thing. My makeup had been done in a more simp
le fashion like my promotional video earlier, with a quick brush of gold eyeshad
ow, brown eyeliner, pale pink lip gloss, and a little blush.
"Thanks so much. I love it." I muttered gratefully, shooting everyone a small sm
ile.
Caroline returned my smile with one of her own before she said, "I'm glad you do
since I'll be doing it for the next two days."
I thanked everyone once again, hopping down from my stool carefully to make sure
my dress wasn't wrinkled and I was accustomed to the three inch heels.
Then, I headed to the door where Garrett and Alonzo were, and smiled as Garrett
hooked his arm with mine. He was wearing a grey suit with a grey vest and white
dress shirt underneath, a purple tie, and a pair of polished black dress shoes.
Alonzo looked the same except his tie was gold and his suit was a midnight black
.
Angela joined us a second later, wearing a stunning knee length cream colored dr
ess that was simple with a ruffled bodice and a lace covered skirt that draped o
ver her frame elegantly and also a pair of purple heels.
Our group looked like we had coordinated or something because we all had one of
the colors everyone else was wearing.
A director person burst through the door, shouting something about getting us in
order and out we went into the hallway as he rushed us outside. What once used
to be a rather quiet trip was filled with bustling, bumping, yelling, and chaos.
He led us to one of the back doors where another woman was waiting, ushering us
into a black limosine.
"What the hell's happening now?" I asked, looking over at Garrett as he took out
a sheet of paper and frowned at it.
"Well apparently, we're all lined up right now by the cars. We're going to exite
the limo when we reach the red carpet that we saw earlier and we're going to wa
ve and smile and all that shit as James announces our names, etc. Then we'll jus
t follow the rope which will lead us directly onto the stage. It's rather easy."
Garrett said, reading in a bored tone.
I sat on my fingers realizing how cold they were before staring outside into the
darkness. From where we were, there were no lights, only blackness.
But that didn't last long.

As we crept along the road slowly, flashes of light began appearing from the rig
ht side and soon I could hear the shouts of people. Craning my neck as four peop
le got out of the car two in front of us, I realized that the people crowding ar
ound the red carpet, restrained by the velvet ropes were reporters and the papar
azzi.
Gulping, I took a deep breath as the car in front of us moved and the people got
out, repeating the same process as the ones before.
"Hey, Kirsten, breathe." Garrett said softly as the people vanished into the doo
rs. Angela squeezed one of my hands in hers and I nodded, hoping I wasn't pale f
rom fright.
And then, there we were. On the red carpet.
The car came to a smooth stop and two uniformed men opened up our doors, the dul
l roar turning into a massive scream once there wasn't a barrier between me and
the crowd. Garrett got out the same time as I did, shooting me a smile, and toge
ther we stepped onto the red carpet.
The night air was a bit cool and nipped at my exposed arms and legs but I didn't
noticed as I smiled into the cameras, the flashes nearly blinding me and focuse
d on not tripping, Garrett's presence nice and warm next to me. A camera man was
nearly tripping over himself as he tried to get closeups and a mechanical wheel
tripod followed our every moves.
"And, here comes Team Amercia!" James' voice boomed, and the crowd erupted into
a frenzy, nearly drowning out the music.
"Mr. Garrett with his sous chef Ms. Kirsten!"
"Garrett, sign my spatual! Garrett, picture! Garrett, how do you feel about this
competition tonight? Kirsten, over here! Are you two dating? Over here, over he
re. Ms. Kirsten look at me! Can I get an autograph!" My mind was about to explod
e as everyone started talking at the same time, barely seeing where I was going
because of the camera flashes and the strobe lights.
But Garrett led me down the carpet and through the gold doors as the cameras and
recorders followed us in the hallway. However, there was no peace as we immedia
tely stepped onto the International Culinary Arts Festival stage where it was ja
mmed packed and everyone screamed when they saw us.
I swear, it was like the Ellen Degeneres show during the nighttime on steroids.
I kept my smile on as we sat down in our seats, Alonzo and Angela right behind u
s. As other teams began to file in, I took note of the layout: the stage itself
was a semi circled with a roundabout audience that seemed to be everywhere. The
soft chairs were in a semi circled shape with Team America right in the middle,
facing James, because we were the fourth of seven teams to get out. James had a
red couch to himself that face the semicircle and he smiled and got up, waving t
o the crowd.
It was crowded enough with everyone but there just had to be about ten billion c
ameramen on stage and camera robot thingys whizzing around. I kept my smile on,
though inside, I was quivering.
"Welcome!" James roared in his baritone voice as the cheers continued. "Welcome
to the annual International Culinary Arts Festival interview. I am your host and
interviewer tonight and thank you for tuning in! You can check us out on Facebo
ok and Twitter at ICAF!"

Turning to face us, the contestants, James smiled again and I hooked my ankle ar
ound my leg and sought comfort as Garrett sat next to me.
"Let's get this party started, shall we?" He asked with a grin.
Wait, wait, where's the puke bucket?####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Forty-One
####################################
Vote and comment and enjoy.
Can you guys maybe comment a bit more? Some people last chapter gave me great fe
edback and I want to hear more from you guys! I'll be choosing a random commento
r from now on to dedicate a chapter to so be sure to leave a long comment! I won
't update till 30 comments.
<3 Infatuated
********************
James swiveled to the far right, focusing on a group of blond women and smiled i
n their general direction. "First we have with us the lovely Swiss ladies from S
witzerland! " The crowd erupted into cheers and cameras flashed. I had the urge
to cover my ears from the loud ruckus but managed to keep on my smile as I clapp
ed politely for the Swiss Team.
"We have Anna, Carolyn, Julia, and Diane. How are you ladies doing tonight?"
The blond on the very edge answered in a thick, European accent, shifting a litt
le under the bright lights and the camera man that was right in her face.
"We're doing good."
After the first three questions, I realized that if I wanted to stay awake, I'd
have either pretend that everyone was in their underwear, as cliche as it was, o
r analyze what everyone was wearing. And even after I admired the gold stitching
on the Korean lady's kimono styled dress, my eyelids started to droop ever so o
ften. Needless to say, I was bored out of my mind and at the verge of collapsing
onto the grey stage and taking a nap. My nerves were long gone but at the same
time, I would occasionally shift nervously as James began interviewing the peopl
e next to us. He was going in a circle starting from the right and we were up ne
xt.
"Thank you guys. Ah
ally went wild this
emed like a mouse's
e everyone began to
re and jaws stiff.

and here we go. Team America!" James shouted as the crowd re

time, so noisy that every other cheer that had been heard se
compared to our lion's roar. My ears were ringing by the tim
quiet down and my smile was starting to strain, my cheeks so

"So, here we have two of the most famous American chefs with us along with their
sous'. How are you guys doing tonight? "
Alonzo muttered 'tired' away from microphone attached to his cheek and Garrett s
aid with a big smile, "we're doing awesome."
Yeah, awesome my ass.
"Nervous?" James asked casually, looking over our little group slowly.

"A bit. But we're hyped up for the competition tomorrow." Garrett muttered just
as smoothly, shooting his famous smile at James and the crowd. I swore five wome
n just fainted somewhere.
"Yeah? What do you guys do when you get nervous?"
I smiled suddenly, knowing exactly what to say. "Well, Alonzo and Angela have a
make out session and it seems to work pretty well for them."
The crowd laughed and Alonzo and Angela gave me dirty looks while Garrett's ches
t vibrated as he chuckled next to me. James grinned at me, crossing his arms ove
r his chest and I gulped, looking at the devious expressions on his face.
"Yeah? I've heard that works. But what about you and Garrett? You don't do the s
ame do you?"
The stage and the audience suddenly grew quiet as they focused on me, but with a
shaky smile, I said, "nah, watching them make out is enough to make us less ner
vous. Actually it makes us kind of sick to the stomach but that's better than be
ing nervous."
The crowd laughed again and I could feel Garrett relax next to me as we realized
that we had just gotten out of the danger zone. Even though we weren't in a rel
ationship, there had been a time when something along the lines of kissing had b
een present and I knew if that was mentioned, the paparazzi would have a field d
ay.
"So Alonzo, how do you think your team will do in the competition?" James asked,
moving on to greener pastures.
"I think we're going to do great tomorrow. I have a lot of confidences in our ab
ilities. We've practiced our butts off so I think we can get into the finals." A
lonzo muttered, his voice surprisingly strong and confident. James nodded, not a
t all surprised by his confidence and opened up his mouth to ask another questio
n but Alonzo beat him to it.
"Now, um I actually have a question." Alonzo muttered, a little more nervously t
han before.
James cocked an eyebrow at Alonzo signifying that he didn't know what was going
on either but he nodded his head, curious.
I turned to Garrett and he frowned, shrugging his shoulders.
Then when everyone gasped, I looked over and Alonzo was on one knee, pulling out
a blue jewelry box from his pant pocket.
Looking into Angela's shocked eyes, Alonzo asked in a clear voice, "Angela, babe
, will you marry me?"
********************
Needless to say, the rest of the interview was a drag after Alonzo proposed. I k
ept on replaying the happy scene when Angela's face lit up and she practically s
creamed 'yes!', jumping into Alonzo's arms and kissing him right there on nation
al television and Alonzo and Angela, or as I started to call them The A's, had t
heir hands intertwined together, the beautiful diamond ring on Angela's finger g
listening beautifully in the stage nights.

James had asked a couple more questions, all pertaining to the competition but i
t was evident that everyone's attention was on the newly engaged couple. I had t
o suppress my happy tears because of my makeup, but I could feel my nose drying
and my eyes watering for the rest of the interview.
"And they are your competitors for the International Culinary Arts Festival 2012
! Tune in tomorrow at eight pm to watch round one. Until tomorrow America!" Jame
s bellowed a huge smile on his face as the audience cheered and clapped.
Then, once the cameras were off and the crowd began to file away, I turned onto
Angela and Alonzo, squealing and launching myself into their arms.
"Oh my god guys, congratulations!" I muttered happily as we slowly filed into th
e back hallways, heading to our meeting with the producers.
Angela grinned so wide, her brown eyes sparkling a little with water as she hugg
ed me so tight. "I can't believe he asked." She sobbed as we broke away from the
boys.
Looking down at her ring, I couldn't help but smile and let out a tear. "You guy
s are so perfect together. I'm so happy for you too."
Angela nodded and wiped away a tear, looking up at me with a joyous look on her
face. "Now that my love life's perfect, we're going to have to work on yours."
I laughed and shook my head, accidentally meeting Garrett's eyes over Angela's h
air, freezing a second before refocusing on the blonde. "I have a boyfriend now.
I'm all set."
Angela looked at me skeptically, knowing well enough that I wasn't being the mos
t sincere. When we entered the confrence room, I felt my heart twist with guilt,
realizing that my feelings still weren't resolved as I wanted them to be. I lik
ed being with Harrison, but at the same time... it just didn't feel perfect.
Damn it. Life wasn't supposed to be perfect, but I really wanted it to be.
********************
"So are you guys going to go back to your room and have celebratory sex?" I aske
d as the limo stopped in front of the Doubletree Hotel and a man opened my door
for me.
Angela blushed and Alonzo rolled his eyes, taking out the suitcases from the tru
nk. "Actually we were going to chill at the pool. Doubletree Hotel pools are alw
ays awesome."
"Yeah, I think I'll join you two... unless you plan on having sex in the hot tub
. Your news is better than a shot of caffeine. I won't be able to sleep. I bet m
y nose was red on camera and I looked horrible." I muttered, looking at the happ
y couple with affection.
"You can't look horrible babe." Angela said, linking her arm through mine as we
headed past the receptionist desk and into the elevator. "That dress was really
flattering too, tonight."
"That's because I'm wearing a shit load of makeup and Vera Wang. Of course it lo
oked good." I snorted in return as Garrett and Alonzo joined us in the small spa
ce.
"Yeah, the mascara's making my eyelashes stick." Alonzo mumbled, rubbing his eye

roughly.
Angela giggled. "Oh my god, I'm marrying a semi gay man that wears more makeup t
han I do." We both cracked up when Alonzo stopped rubbing to glare at us, but th
e left side of his face was smeared with something black that it was comical rat
her than scary.
"Don't worry honey," Angela teased as Alonzo looked at his reflection with a str
icken look on his face, "that'll come right off along with your concealer and bl
ush. Don't forget the lipstick."
"Hey, babe, I'm pretty sure that's your lipstick on my mouth."
When Alonzo began tickling Angela, I focused my attention on Garrett who had a s
mall, sad smile on his face as he watched the happy, engaged couple. "Whatcha th
inking about?" I asked quietly, prodding him slightly with my elbow.
"Hm?" Garrett looked down at me, the sad happy expression still on his face. "I'
m just thinking about how happpy those two look together. I, uh, kind of wish I
had that sort of thing."
"With Mira?" I questioned softly.
Garrett's face closed over a little as he examined me, as if he wanted to convey
something but didn't have the guts to. "I, I don't really know."
There was an awkward silence between us, the only noise being Angela and Alonzo
laughing in the corner, until the elevator 'dinged' and the doors opened.
"Come on you two lovebirds. Save the action for the bed." I muttered, nudging bo
th of the out of the door, wheeling both mine and Angela's suitcase down the car
peted hallway.
Garrett stopped at the furthest door down the
d opening up opening up the door, revealing a
was divided into threes: there was a bar and
left room was Angela and mine while Garrett's

hallway before swiping the card an

huge, spacious suite-like room. It
living room in the middle and the
and Alonzo's was on the right.

"How much did this cost?" I asked, dropping my suitcase into the hallway that co
nnected to my room.
Garrett shrugged, unbuttoning his suit. "It was free I'm pretty sure. My dad has
connections."
"Jesus."
"So, we'll meet you at the pool in thirty?" Angela chirped, tugging on my hand.
Both Garrett and Alonzo nodded and we went our opposite ways.
"I didn't bring a bathing suit." I mumbled as Angela closed the door.
Angela turned on me with a bright smile, unzipping her suitcase quickly. "That's
okay cause I brought two. Which one do you want? The white or the purple?"
After Angela spent twenty minutes getting my hair into a braided bun, my roots f
eeling sensitive and sore from the day of teasing and pulling, I threw on a whit
e t-shirt and shorts and grabbed my towel, waiting for Angela to hurry up and pu
t on her shoes.

"Are people supposed to wear engagement rings in the pool? Won't it make it rust
or something?" Angela fretted, as she lifted her hand to the light.
I rolled my eyes. "How would I know? Never gotten an engagement ring before."
"Shut up. You know what I mean. I don't want to ruin it!" Angela whined.
"Then leave it on the nightstand and let's go. Nothing's going to happen while w
e're gone." I grumbled, watching as she hesitantly slipped it off and put it int
o her blue velvet box.
"So how do you feel about getting married?" I asked as we finally past the boys'
empty and quiet side of the room and exiting out of the door.
Angela shrugged a little, her tan cheeks getting a little pink as she blushed. "
I don't know. Alonzo and I have been dating for a long time, two years, so I'm h
oping it'll be the way it's been. I've just heard horror stories about planning
a wedding so that's freaking me out."
I nodded as if
eaded to where
the wedding."
g off my shirt

I understood, welcoming the warm Californian night breeze as we h

the blue, shimmering pool was. "Just don't forget to invite me to
I said, teasingly, tossing my towel onto a black chair and pullin
and shorts.

She rolled her eyes, copying my movement and jumping into the large pool. "I'm t
hinking we might just elope or something."
"Woah, woah, woah babe, I didn't know you were into chicks. Why're you eloping w
ith Kirsten?" Alonzo's voice rang from behind, coming close enough so that I cou
ld see his abs.
"Shut up." Angela grumbled, scooping up some water and flicking it at her fiance
, who merely just laughed before jumping in with a huge splash, getting her and
me wet.
"I'm going to the hot tub guys." I shouted as Alonzo and Angela began to mess ar
ound with each other, pushing one another's head under water or splashing around
like crazy.
They barely acknowledged me, busy with their own things, but Garrett muttered qu
ietly, "I'll go with you."
I turned around, forgetting that he was there and at that moment, I totally dese
rved a medal for most restraint. Instead of checking out his well-defined chest,
I kept my eyes trained on Garrett and smiled as if he wasn't half-naked right i
n front of me, never looking below his collarbones.
Once I was in the scalding water, Garrett sitting next to me, I moaned quietly,
enjoying the feeling of the hot water massaging my muscles.
"Long day?" Garrett asked, propping his arms onto the edge of the pool, looking
at me passively.
I nodded, brushing some hair out of my face, careful that the string to my bikin
i top wouldn't untie in the process. Angela's purple 'swimsuit' really turned ou
t to be a two piece that didn't expose too much but enough to make me a little u
ncomfortable, especially with Garrett and his abs sitting next to me.
Don't look down past his neck! My head screamed and I smiled painfully, keeping
my gaze on him... his eyes at that.

"Long day for you too?" I asked, sinking lower into the tub.
He nodded, pushing the hair on his head back, his arm muscles flexing dangerousl
y as he did so. I gulped, trying to reason with myself. Well, the arm is above t
he collarbone! "It was a really long day. Just super glad that I didn't get a ca
ll from Mira today."
I raised an eyebrow at his comment, not that surprised at what he said, but surp
rised that he would admit it to me. "She being a pain in the butt?"
He cracked a smile. "When is she not?"
"I don't know. You tell me. You're her fiance, right?"
He froze when I mentioned that, a guarded and torn look on his face. "Remember?
I haven't asked yet. Consider me her... benefactor or something."
"Do you plan on asking?" God dammit, why do you keep on asking these dumb ass qu
estions?
"Truthfully? I don't think I'm going to." Came Garrett's soft reply as he looked
over at me across the water. "I don't really like her,and there's no way I'm in
love with her."
Why did my heart start pounding all of a sudden? It must have been the degree of
the water or my fatigue. I hoped. Think about Harrison, about how nice and cari
ng he's been to you. Yeah Harrison, that guy. Remember?
"Plus she can get incredibly bitchy. Sometimes she'll be nice but the next secon
d, she goes completely crazy." Garrett continued on, unaware that I wasn't reall
y paying attention.
"I'm sorry." I muttered sympathetically, trying to be as sincere as possible. It
sucks having a kid so young and a bitchy mom as well."
Garrett shook his head quickly. "Don't get me wrong, I actually adore kids. I ju
st feel like I haven't gone out and done what I've wanted to do in the world, yo
u know?"
"What do you want to do? Not what your dad wants you to do but what you want to
do." I asked, curious as to see what was behind the famous chef.
"I want to own my own restaurant." Garrett muttered after a pause, not willing t
o look at me in the eyes,instead, tracings patterns in the water.
My eyebrows raised at this comment. "Really? That would he awesome if you did. I
t's not the most fun, but I guess for you it's better than teaching."
Garrett nodded, distracted, looking at something behind my shoulder. We were bro
ken out of the silence as Angela screamed and laughed as Alonzo scooped her up a
nd twirled her around.
"They look really cute together." I muttered enviously, sighing at how perfect t
heir relationship was.
"They do, don't they?" Garrett said wistfully, looking at them with the same exp
ression on his face as mine.
Turning on Garrett, I laughed. "Is wittle Garrett a hopeless romantic?"

His face grew serious as he really contemplated my question. "There was a time."
He muttered hesitantly, looking at me earnestly with his stormy grey eyes, "whe
n I thought I had found the perfect girl. But then she was snatched from my arms
. So no, I'm not one. At least not anymore."
The silence grew as it was my turn to look into the water and trace my fingers,
making small ripples. "Well," I finally managed to say, "I hope you find her aga
in."
He nodded softly, a sad smile on his face, more like a twist of his lips. And th
at was when I gave up. After sitting next to him for thirty minutes, I couldn't
help but look down just once to ogle his nice, tan six pack for a second, before
shooting my face back upwards, embarrassed when he raised an eyebrow and grinne
d, the atmosphere changing from melancholy to teasing in a second.
"Well." I muttered abruptly, getting up from my position as water trickled down
and hit the hot tub. "I'm checking out. I'm starting to get tired and I don't wa
nt to drown in the water if I accidentally fall asleep or something."
Garrett nodded and slowly got up to, mumbling, "I'm getting pretty tired too.",
and wrapped a towel around his waist. Alonzo and Angela were unaware, still play
ing in the water as we headed up the path way back to the hotel, too involved wi
th each other to notice.
"Do you want to take the shower first?" Garrett asked, holding open the door to
our rooms five minutes laters.
I shrugged. "If you don't mind. I hate the smell of pool water on my skin. Thank
s."
He nodded briefly, looking down at me with a smile before disappearing down the
hallway into his room.
The warm water felt good on my skin as I scrubbed and washed my hair, acting alm
ost like a therapeutic relief to my body. I stayed in there for amost an hour, e
njoying the free Bath and Body Works shampoo and condition before shutting off t
he shower head and stepping out, quickly putting on a pair of yoga pants, my bra
, and a tank top.
When I stepped out, the steam following me behind into the cool air, I stiffened
, hearing Garrett's frustrated voice in the middle room.
"Mira. Listen. You saying all these things isn't going to help. What? I don't ca
re if your shoes are ruined! It was an accident for Christ's sake. She didn't do
it on purpose."
In a second, I realized that Garrett w as referring to the incident earlier this
morning when Simbah peed on Mira's shoe and she fell over. I froze, not knowing
whether or not I should go out into the kitchen to grab a cup of water before b
ed because it sounded like a personal conversation, and decided to, slowly shuff
ling over the carpet and silently turning on the kitchen light, trying to not di
sturb Garrett from his discussion.
As I reached for one of the cupboards where the plastic cups were, Garrett's voi
ce rose a notch as he muttered frantically, "you're bleeding?"
At that moment, I cracked open the door then stilled when I heard that, but just
my luck, a cup came crashing down and hit the counter, shattering into a hundre
d pieces. Garrett jerked around and saw me there, his face emotionless as he lis

tened to Mira.
"You're at the hospital? Is it coming from your... you know?" He asked, barely a
cknowledging the fact that I was standing fifty feet away, as I looked numbly do
wn at the light blue shards that scattered over the table and the tiled floor.
"You, you think you lost the baby?" He asked, his voice now emotionless. I stiff
ened, my hands cold as I waited for the reply.
"Oh god, okay. I'll talk to you later."
The silence that followed him hanging up the phone was awkward, the only sounds
coming from the artificial fireplace that Garrett sat next to.
"Hey? Are, are you okay?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I walked o
ut of the kitchen and stood over the sofa, unsure of what to do. He patted the s
eat next to him as if he knew that I wanted to sit on the sofa, his eyes trained
on the orange flames. Without saying a word, he turned to me, and at that insta
nt my heart broke.
His dark grey eyes were bleak and torn, pain emenating from their depth as he re
garded me openly. Then Garrett, famous chef of America, billiionaire heir, the c
ocky, grumpy, caring jerk that I had fallen in love with, began to cry in my sho
ulder.
####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Forty-Two
####################################
Dedicated to Neonnerd for being my first ever fan. I just reached 1,000 so it's
a memory :) Thanks!
So... fifty comments this week and a earlier update? Oui oui? Could you take ju
st a second to click on the button to your right that reads VOTE? It's right ove
r there and will only take you one millisecond. --------------->
<3 Infatuated
********************
All I could feel as Garrett's broad shoulders shook above me and the sofa rest a
rm dug into my back, all the while patting his arm as comforting as I could, was
absolute guilt.
"I'm so sorry." I muttered, feeling broken on the inside. After all, I thought h
elplessly as Garrett shook his head, it was my dog that barrelled into Mira and
caused her to trip and fall. Suddenly, the comedic actions this morning really w
eren't funny anymore, because it was hurting two people, and wasn't merely child
's play anymore.
"Why the hell are you sorry?" He asked me in a broken voice, lifting his head to
regard me with somber and sad bleak eyes.
"Simbah made Mira fall." I muttered, looking at the fireplace and trying to hold
back my tears. Garrett's arms loosened around me into a small hug, as he took a
deep breath and shook his head, a wry smile on his face.
"You're so gullible. That's not why I'm sad." Garrett whispered, not meeting my
eyes as the emotional rollercoaster came to an end and the vulnerable Garrett sl
owly began to disappear behind his familiar facade.

"What do you mean?" I asked with a frown. "What did I say wrong?"
He opened his mouth and was about to say something when an undescribeable emotio
n flashed across his face and he stayed silent.
"Seriously, Garrett, what am I not getting here?" I asked, a bit worried and ann
oyed as he remained quiet, stroking my hair absently as we stared into the firep
lace.
"Forget it Kirsten, it's not a big deal." He muttered in a hollow tone, turning
to look at me briefly. "Please don't blame yourself because it wasn't your fault
. After all," he paused with a humorless smile on his face, "I don't know what t
o believe anymore. Mira may not have been pregnant to begin with and could of ju
st lied, or it might have not been mine."
I didn't say anything in return, feeling just a little sad for Mira but also agr
eeing with Garrett's harsh words.
We sat there for half an hour in silence, his arm around my shoulder, not bother
ed by my wet hair, both deep in our own thoughts, mine confused, while he looked
agitated and conflicted. Although I wanted to ask him what was on his mind, I w
as afraid of disrupting his thoughts because he looked so serious and intense, s
o I just sat there comfortably, letting his warmth soak into me, until the hotel
door banged open, and a passionate clump of Alonzela came tumbling through. The
ir hands were tangled in each others hair and it looked like their mouths were f
used together except for the couple of seconds where I could see some tongue act
ion that seriously disturbed me.
When they slammed the door to my room, both of them still attached to each other
, I sighed slightly, realizing that the sleeping arrangements had suddenly chang
ed drastically thanks to the newly engaged couple.
"Well, it looks like I just got kicked out of my own room." I mutteered dryly, s
paring a glance in Garrett's direction, and seeing him smile a little, I hesitat
ed for a second before asking quietly, "Why were you so upset if it wasn't becau
se Mira may or may not have lost the baby?"
There was a moment of tense silence as Garrett pondered my question, a line of f
rustration between his eyebrows and his lips pursed. Then, he shifted and remove
d his arm from my shoulder, scooting over to give me some more room. Then, he se
emed to break even more, slumping over his knees and putting my head in his cros
sed arms, taking deep breaths as he calmed down and started talking.
"I've had to deal with her for the past months; months I've wasted away because
of my worry about becoming a dad and the competition. She ruined my life, Mira d
id, and I feel so broken. I don't want anything to do with her but now I just fe
el numb and tired, unwilling to exert the energy and emotions to fix my life. Sh
e, she screwed me over." After his last sentence, I felt as if there was much le
ft unsaid from him, the words hanging in the air, trying to coax Garrett to say
what he was really feeling.
Instead of prying, I nodded slowly, leaning over and squeezing his closed fist g
ently as some semblance of reassurance. Hesitating for a second, I opened my mou
th and asked, "would you like some hot chocolate?" I waited for his answer, but
jolted violently as a loud thud came from the room next to us, accompanied by lo
w murmers and a groan. I winced slightly as a mental image of Angela and Alonzo
doing certian things on my suitcase or bed came to mind.
Garrett chuckled slightly at my expression but then immediately sobered up, look

ing up from his elbows. "I think I'll be good. But," he paused for two seconds,
regarding me sadly as he tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear, "will you stay
with me?"
I didn't know whether or not his was talking about right now on the sofa or for
the rest of my life, but regardless, I nodded slowly because either way, I didn'
t mind.
Scootching over next to him again, I curled up next to his warm body and slowly
slid my fingers through his, lacing them together and giving him one last hug. H
e didn't let go of me, from the hug or our clasped hands, and that's how I fell
asleep.
And also how I woke up, just with an additional two people.
"Aw, aren't they just the most adorable things ever?" Angela cooed then giggled,
prodding Garrett's relaxed cheek with her index finger. "I wonder how they got
like this. Don't they look absolutely perfect together? I just wish they could s
ee it."
I shifted slightly as bleak sunlight from under the window shades hit my eyes as
I blinked rapidly before becoming completely alert as I realized that my eyes w
ere in direct line with Garrett's warm and hard chest.
Jolting up, I ignored Alonzo's laugh, and then realized with confusion that I wa
s tied down to Garrett because our hands were still clasped together. Franticall
y, I looked at Angela. "Help me out here!"
She simply shrugged, holding back a grin as she observed the two of us together.
"You two are just so cute together."
I scowled, flailing my arms, trying to
gheter around my fingers. But, instead
ees and went flying forward, my waving
my body slamming onto his, causing me
abruptly.

be serious as Garrett's grip on became ti

of succeeding, I lost my balance on my kn
hand slapping Garrett across the face and
and him to both emit 'oofs' as he woke up

"Oh my god." I muttered, horrified, as several finger marks started to appear on

Garrett's tan face in an angry pale red streak.
Garrett yawned, before blinking groggily and smiling slightly, though the sadnes
s was fully evident on his face. "I like the fact that you think I'm your God, b
ut could you get off of me. You're kneeing me in the balls."
Horrifed, I jumped off and tumbled onto the carpeted floor as everyone else bega
n to crack up, even Garrett.
"You guys are not nice." I grumbled, picking myself off the floor and gingerly s
itting back on the couch, trying not to touch Garrett, and blushing deeply as he
winked and grinned.
Inside however, I was confused. How could he act the way he did when I first met
him? Perverted and teasing? Especially since he had just possibly lost his chil
d and was crying the night before? It took me a second, as Garrett got up, jokin
g with Alonzo and Angela, for me to feel sadness descend. I had been long enough
around Garrett to know why. It was just who he was. Whenever something happened
, something that would screw with his emotion, he would effortlesssly mask it be
hind his playboy facade. And frankly? I was getting tired of it. I wanted answer
s, answers that I could rely on.

But before I could go confront Garrett, the said person's voice rang through the
living room. "Kirsten? Could you come in here for just a second?"
I got up slowly and headed to the kitchen where he was, sweeping up the glass th
at I had broken the night before. "Oh God, let me clean it up. I'm so sorry."
Garrett shrugged it off, tossing the pieces into a trashcan before turning to me
. "Like I said, although God is a nice nickname, Garrett's good enough." When he
saw my frown, he just chuckled before becoming serious, looking over his should
er to make sure Alonzo and Angela weren't around. Then he bent down to me and mu
ttered quietly, "Listen, I know you want some answers that I didn't give you las
t night. I, I've decided to tell you everything. Tonight. Okay?"
I could only nod as he straightened up and flashed me a smile. "Ready to go beat
up some ass now?"
********************
Since the ICAF competition started at 12 pm, we headed out at ten to make sure w
e would have enough time to get there, get dressed, and get in the mode for the
big competition. The ride was fairly uneventful, the only eyebrow raising thing
being Alonzo and Angela holding hands the entire way there. When we arrived, we
were rushed to the makeup room since we were the last one to get there, but gett
ing into my white chef uniform and simple makeup only took half an hour to put t
ogether.
By the time I had reintroduced myself to the producers and cameramen whom I had
all meant last night, I was incredibly nervous, my heart pounding so fast and my
palms damp with moisture. The cameraman that was assigned to me, Jared, gave me
a thumbs up as I met up with Garrett, Angela, and Alonzo.
The competition itself was fairly simple. From 12 to 2, we would cook for the fi
rst round, Asian themed. Then from 3 to 5, granted we were moved to the semi-fin
als, we would cook European styled. Lastly, if we managed to get into the finals
, which was currently unforeseeable, we would begin at 7 and end at 10, since th
ere would be an extra dish to cook. The results would be announced at 8 in the m
orning, the winning team winning the one million dollars, the prestige, the inte
rviews, and the massive trophy and plaque.
At eleven thirty, our group stepped onto the stage with the seats beginning to f
ill with the live audience. Everything was set up, except this time, there were
no chairs and friendly interviewer; in their place, twelve kitchen units were fo
rmed on the stage, each labeled with the team name, and all of the first names o
f the contestants in that team. On each kitchen unit there were various applian
ces and tools such as a blender, a stove, a baster, thousands of utensils, and a
collection of pans. Each unit was three times the size of the ones at the mock
practice at the Bianchi Institute, everything made out of shiny, steeless metal.
Trembling, I looked around at the rest of the competitors. They were lined up li
ke the interview last night, with the Swiss women on the far left and the Indian
s on the far right. The Aussies were right next to us, horsing around slightly a
s the microphones were adjusted slightly and the lights were fixed.
"Calm down." Garrett muttered to our group, fixing me and Alonzo a hard stare.
Alonzo nodded stiffly, fixing his collar and gulping, a determined look on his f
ace.
"Guys, we can win this." Garrett continued in a low muttered, looking at only us
and ignoring the cameraman trained on us and James walking around, very close t

o us. "Keep on your toes and use your talent and hard work. Remember all that pr
actice we had and know that we can easily sweep away the competition."
"And Garrett of Team America assures his teamates as the competition come closer
." James crowed to the ever growing crowd, flashing a smile in the camera. "How
many of you all think Team America is going to win?"
The cheers erupting only made me more nervous.
When the clock ticked down to only five minutes until we would be on air, the th
ree judges filed in and filled the tables at the bottom of the stage.
At the far left, a woman with pure white, curly hair situated herself in her sea
t, dressed in a black blazer and black slacks with pearls on her ears and throat
. She was Lilianne Rogers, an international sensation, famous for her thousands
of cookbooks and variety of cuisine, ranging from African to Chinese, with a cou
ple cheeseburgers thrown in for good measure. She had a reputation of being incr
edibly picky with a sensitive tongue, which made her food so good, but was also
bad for us if some measurements were going to go wrong.
To her right, a portly, bald man was analyzing the competitors, an always presen
t smile gracing his lips. He was Phillip Langstrong, dressed in a light blue ves
t and slacks with black shoes and a white bowtie. A connisseur relevant to the c
ooking world for his ratings of the best restaurants, his advice was always foun
d on the most famous magazines and cookbooks, and his TV show where he taught ho
w to cook in the strangest ways was always on Food Network. I occasionally watch
ed his show and I had to admit, he was a genius.
Last, but definitely not least, a guy in his mid twenties texted on his IPhone a
s the cameras zoomed in on him and the other guys. He had wavy blond hair and wa
s wearing a simple balck t-shirt where his dragon tattoo was visible, and a pair
of dark blue jeans. He gave off casualness but anyone who knew Tony Vandelle kn
ew that he was one of the most intense chefs out in the world. He owned twenty d
ifferent restaurants which each had chains all over the United States and Europe
, and was the head chef at one of the most exotic restaurants, The Shack. I expe
cted either him or Lilianne to be the toughest, but it was obvious that it was g
oing to take a lot ot get Tony impressed.
"And in three, two, one!" The producer Taylor Igles shouted, waving from upstair
s in the balcony. James with a big flourish and just of an exurberant grin on hi
s face, looked straight into the camera and began his introductions.
"Welcome to the International Culinaria Arts Festival!! Today we have toe toughe
st, the most elite of chefs with us today, ready to battle for the ICAF title. W
e have our judges! Mrs. Lilianne Rogers!! Mr. Phillip Langstrong! and Mr. Tony V
adelle! Alright guys, you may or may not know how this works. In round one, each
contestant head chef will choose one slip of paper from this velvet bag, which
means each team must have two food items! Then, the sous' will step forward and
totally choose three more slips of paper which gives a description, suc h as bre
akfast, appetizer, main course, dessert, etc! Then, when the bell rings, they wi
ll commence creating three dishes: two of them will have the seperate items and
the third must contain both. So, without further ado, let round one begin! Switz
erland, if you will do the honors!"
My palms began to sweat profusely as he went down the line of contestants, calli
ng out loudly each of the items and the dishes they would create. Some teams wer
e lucky while others were not. Team Switzerland got both frog leg's and shark fi
n, two of which brought frowns and queesy looks from the audience and the women
themselves. I knew that it was Asian themed, but many of the food brought out we
re not familiar at all, like the chicken feet and the swallow's nest. Finally Ja

mes stopped in front of us and grinned. "Good luck Team Amercia. Now... if you w
ould please dip your hand into the bag." He held out two bags and I quickly put
my hand and grabbed three slips of paper, pulling them out and unfolding. They r
ead 'dessert', 'main dish', and 'appetizer'. I gave them back to James would rea
d them to the crowd and sucked in breath as Garrett frowned at his paper.
James eagerly snatcvhed them out of his hands, turning to the crowd and grinning
. "And Team America has drawn out Tofu and Rice!"
By the time everyone had their supplies, my mind was whirling, thinking back to
all the foods I had ever made.
"And on your marks," James shouted as we stood over our kitchen unit, "get set..
.. GO!" A large gong was hit, how ironic, and immediately, everyone was in actio
n as the crowd cheered.
Immediately, Garrett pulled us into a huddle, looking at us with excitement, tho
ugh his voice betrayed his lack of confidence and his nerves and I hoped no one
else noticed. "For appetizer, I was thinking of a sweet tofu drink, which tastes
like soy sauce, and fried tofu with sweet ginger and soy sauce drizzled over wi
th a small cuccumber carrot salad." We all nodded as he continued. "And then for
main course, we should do oil mushroom rice stuffed in fried tofu puffs in miso
soup." He paused, looking nervously at the clock that was at one hour and fifty
nine minutes. "And then for dessert, I was thinking of a sweet, rice cake with
red beans. It's very popular in China."
After we agreed, he rattled off a bunch of instructions and I headed over to our
supplies, knowing exactly what to do for the rice cake since I had made it in c
lass earlier in the year. I snatched two packets of rice powder, a cup of milk,
water, raw red beans, oil, sugar, and some black sesame. Running back to my side
of the station, I took a large mixing bowl and poured in the powder, furiously
mixing it with the water, milk, and sugar to create a liquidy paste.
Seperating the paste into two bowls, I mixed one with black sesame, making the m
ixer thicker, before gettting ceran wrap and a cylindrical mold annd pouring it
all in. Wrapping it up quickly, I ran to the freezer and slid it in, setting the
clock for thirty minutes before sprinting back to our kitchen unit.
"And immediately, Team Italian is eliminated!" James' voice was wracked with fer
vor and excitement as familiar Italian curses came to my ears. I panicked, mixin
g even fast. How had they been eliminated? That wasn't in any rules.
"Sign language is wonderful except when you use it to cheat at ICAF. They were c
aught signing to each other before the competition started, several recipes and
ideas."
Relaxing, I turned on the sink and quickly washed the red bean, rubbing each har
d bean for a second before drying them off with a towel. Reaching over Angela wh
o was frying tofu balls while shaving several pieces of carrots, I grabbed the f
ood grinder, shoving the beans in and turning it on, watching it turn into a pas
te. Taking it out with a spatula and putting it into a bowl, I turned and poured
half of the rest of the mixture into a glass pan smoothing the white liquidly b
atter before whisking the red bean paste over it. Sparing a glance, I saw Garret
t slowly slice the tofu into thin slices as the oil popped loudly. Alonzo had so
y beans, doing some strange things by heating some white thing to make a liquid.
What Alonzo was doing confused me greatly, which was just to show my lack of As
ian cuisine knowledge.
Turning back to my own work, I spread the red bean over the rice paste then put
the rest of the white mixture on top, admiring my work for a split second before

, throwing open the oven and placing it inside. Setting the timer for an hour, I
looked at the clock. Only 1 hour and thirty minutes to go.
I rushed over to Angela and helped her cut the tofu sheet into slivers and salt
it, adding sesame oil, pepper, and some other ingredients I couldn't read in and
mixing it to create the salads. To my left, a rice cooker spit out water and st
eam, rattling a bit as Garrett cut dried shiitake and soaked them with a mixture
of water and soy sauce.
When my timer for the freezer rang, I hurried over and took out my pan, frowning
when it remained soft and gooey in the mold. Putting it back in, I set it for a
nother half an hour, perturbed that it wasn't hard enough for frying even though
I knew it should of been with the half an hour timer.
After ten minutes, carving out the soft inards of the fried tofu balls so Garret
t could place the warm oild mushroom soy rice inside, James' voice which had bee
n talking nonstop about what the contestants were doing, suddenly grew with exci
tement.
"And Team China has now been eliminated!" My head shot up at the metion of this,
panicking again. How were these teams being eliminated?
"Sous chef Huangtao was caught tampering with the temperature for Team America's
freezer in which sous chef Kirsten had put a mold of rice cake an hour earlier.
I shot up from my seat, sprinting over to the freezer as the angry Chinese were
removed from the stage, opening to find the temperature in the forty's, not eve
n low enough to freeze anything.
"Damnit." I hissed, taking out my ricecake and seeing that it still wasn't at th
e consistency I wanted it to be.
"Will it work?" Angela asked nervously next to me, prodding the cake with her fi
nger.
"It's going to have to. There's nothing else I can do. Resetting freezers take a
n hour and now we're down to one hour. We don't have time." Slamming the fridge
door, I literally stomped to the stove, a frown etched onto my face. Taking out
a sharp knife from the stand, I unwrapped the rice cake and slapped it down on t
he cutting board, swifftly cutting it with a thickness of about a centimeter. It
would have to do.
Turning up the heat, I sprinkled oil into the pan, swishing around so it could c
oat it evenly before calmly placing the rice cakes in.
Garrett to my left was beginning to setup the dishes, placing three rice-filled
tofu balls onto three decorative plates, adding raw vegetables and sauces. To my
right, Alonzo, began pouring the tofu drink into fancy, glass cups, adding tapo
ica for the Oriental flare, and scooped the fried tofu chips onto a plate.
I slowly began to calm down. We were doing good and on track, with nothing, exce
pt for the rice cake falling behind. Peeking into the oven, I took out the pan o
f bake rice cake with two hot pads, putting it onto the marble counter to let it
cool down. Flipping the small, fried rice cakes over, the sides golden brown an
d glistening, I wiped my hands before cutting the baked rice cake into clean, ne
at squares and scooping them onto a plate. The middle of each one was gooey and
white with several flakes of black sesame to add a refreshing, Japanese taste to
it.
When I took the fried cakes off the pan, we had fifteen minutes left. I dried ea
ch one off with a napkin, fully aware of the camera trained on me, before placin

g a slice of that under a slice of baked rice cake and drizzling sugar red bean
pasted over the plate and the top. Finishing all the three plates, I set them as
ide and helped Angela put the salad into small white bowls and drizzle them with
sesame oil and a sweet, orange sauce from Japan. The tofu chips were place next
to it on a long plate, with a mysterious dipping sauce in a small cup to the si
de.
Garrett to my left was
cond of hesitation and
brought over the tofu
hem, just in time fore

struggling to put the rice balls in order, but after a se

panic, our dishes were done, five minutes earlier. Alonzo
drinks with wide blue, red, and white colored straws in t
the massive group hug and the various high fives.

Then, as the gong sounded once again through the quiet building, I remembered th
e judges, and the nerves came back again.
Scanning over our various plates as people whisked them away to the judge's tabl
e, I nervously tapped my foot on the group and lace my fingers together, praying
that everything we had done was presentable and creative. I saw a variety of di
shes before our; the Swiss teams was horrendous with a random mishmash of items
that didn't make sense at all. They put black sesame seeds in a quiche for God's
sake! The others before us did pretty well, and I looked at the judges to see t
heir facial expressions as they ate and talked amongst themselves.
When they got to us, I realized that all three judges were adept at masking thei
r emotions, only muttering softly and nodding, expertly taking apart the oil mus
hroom rice balls in the miso soup and taking dainty sips of the soy tofu milk dr
ink. By the time they were done with all thirty six dishes, I felt like as was a
bout to collapse from nerves though everyone else on my team seemed calm and col
lected, me the only one with the shaking hands.
Finally, after exchanging notes and whispering secretly behind the table, Tony s
tood up with a polite smile on his face. "The other judges and I have reached ou
r decision. We apologize to those that will not make it and congratulate those t
hat will advance to round 2." He cleared his voice before running a finger throu
gh his hands and said, "The people that are advancing are, Team Japan, Team Aust
ralia, Team India, Team France, Team Kenya, Team Norway, and last but not least,
" my hands tightened as I gripped Garrett's arm who squeezed my hand reassuringl
y, "Team America!!"
At the mention of our name, the crowd went absolutely beserk, screaming and yell
ing and cheering as big grins made their way onto our faces.
I high fived everyone and laughed. We had made it through round one.... only two
more until the trophy was ours.
********************
PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Forty-Three
####################################
Hey guys! New chapter! New drama! Enjoy and please please VOTE!! -------->
Dedicated to Princess_Slave for pointing out that they didn't wash their hands b
efore cooking... made my day!
<3 Infatuated
********************

Once the lights shut off and the cameraman called 'cut', I slumped on Angela's s
houlder, thanking God that we were finally done taping the first round. Although
my uniform was pretty and the color was nice, the fabric was heavy and slightly
itchy, making me uncomfortable up on stage.
"We did it guys. Only two more rounds to go." Garrett said with a grin, giving e
veryone another high five, pausing when he reached me, but hesitantly smacking h
is palm against mine.
"But we only have twenty five minutes left of the break before we have to start
again." Alonzo groaned, tucking Angela under his chin and glowering at the clock
. "This is torture."
Angela giggled a bit, leaning into his touch so I had to straighten up in order
to not fall over, muttering in a seductive voice, "that's plenty of time."
Garrett ignored Alonzo's complaining and Angela's dirty words, and looked over t
he hugging couple at me as if he wanted to convey something with his dark grey e
yes. "Hey Kirsten? Could I talk to you for a second?"
I was surprised, unsure of what he wanted, and self consciously wiped my palms o
n my apron. "Uh sure."
He led me outside into the less crowded hallway where we could get some privacy,
barely touching my forearm as he guided me through the crowds and down a darker
path to the makeup room where we had gotten ready this morning. Turning and lea
ning against the door, making sure no one was around, he bent closer to me and s
aid quietly, "do you think you could just not mention anything to Angela and Alo
nzo?"
I blinked, confused, before I realized he had to be talking about Mira's fall an
d possible miscarriage. Nodding quickly, I said, "sure, that's no problem."
Garrett smiled sadly at me, before a dangerous glint came into his steel eyes an
d he muttered lowly, "don't tell them about this either." And then, leaning down
even further, which made me realize how much taller he was than me without my h
eels, he placed a soft kiss on my cheek, right next to the curve of my lip, bare
ly touching my skin before quickly straightening to his full height.
I felt blood rush to my face as I lifted a shaking hand to touch the slightly he
ated spot that he had left there with that ghost kiss, unsure of what to do. Aft
er all, here I was in a deserted, dark hallway with a badboy chef while I had a
boyfriend at home who was thinking that I was being completely faithful to him.
Yeah, I really didn't know what to do.
It was undeniable to say that I was attracted to Garrett, partially because of h
is easy-on-the-eyes features and because of who he was a person, but at the same
time, Harrison and I had just started dating and it seemed like a bitchy thing
to do, breaking it off just after it started.
Wait, why did I want to break it off with Harrison? Was it because that I truly
liked Garrett or was it because I didn't like Harrison enough to want to stay wi
th him? This whole situation was like a scientific proble. There were too many d
ifferent variables and changes for me to be able to trace to what the exact reas
on was for my possible treachery.
Garrett snapped me out of my thoughts when he touched my arm gently and said gui
ltily, "I'm sorry. I don't want you to feel bad. That was my fault. After all, y

ou have a boyfriend and all." He then laughed a little dryly before stepping bac
k and heading back down the hallway, turning to look at me for one second and sa
ying, "If you know what's best for you Kirsten, I suggest you stay away from me.
I'll only ruin everything. Like I usually do."
Then, he disappeared, around the corner, leaving me to stand in the dark. But th
is time? I wasn't letting him get away.
"Garrett! You dick! Come back here!" I yelled, half jogging, half speed walking
to where he went.
He turned to look back at me, before slowing down slightly so I could catch up.
"What the hell is your problem?" I asked with a loud huff from exertion and anno
yance.
"I'm sorry Kirsten, I lost control for a second. It won't happen again." He repl
ied cooly, looking down at me.
Punching him in the chest, I tried not to wince before frowning and shaking my h
ead at him. "I'm not talking about that kiss, I'm talking about you walking away
from me, again!"
His expression softened a bit when he realized my true meaning before he looked
confused and asked, "what do you mean by I always walk away?"
"That's what always happened," I cried, frustrated. "It's how you always are. Yo
u never confront, you always walk away! Whenever I ask you a question or a revel
ation, you shut down and change the topic. When you, you know, maybe freaking KI
SS me, I have a right to know why you did it!"
His eyes widened for a second at my anger, but then he got just as frustrated of
a look on his face as he tugged his fingers through his gelled hair. "You want
to know?"
I nodded vigorously and defiantly, looking at him angrily.
"Well I'll tell you Kirsten. I want you, so bad. But I can't have you and that t
ears me apart. So do me a favor, please, for my sanity, stay away."
"Are Garrett and Kirsten out here?" A voice called out, snapping us both out of
our conversating. Garrett spun around and walk away, heading towards the stage d
oors, and I meekly followed, still a little shell shocked, but resigned as every
thing became a bigger, jumbled mess.
********************
"Welcome back to the International Culinaria Arts Festival! I'm James your host
for tonight! You all ready to see round two started?" A massive cheer erupted fr
om the crowd and I could see Lilanne wincing from the judges table, her hands tw
itching as if she wanted to cover her ears from the obnoxious nose.
For me, I barely noticed it, only registering the fact that Garrett stood next t
o me stiffly, a big gap between the two of us as James walked across the stage l
ike some big celebrity. I wanted to talk to him again and get some more answers
but his previous words were imbedded in my head.
Stay away from me.
********************

I stood, vigorously shredding the mozzeralla cheese as Alonzo stood next to me,
mixing the pan of tomatoes and basil, as the fervour grew more and more as the c
lock ticked down to fifteen minutes.
"Shit, shit, shit." I hissed quietly, looking around to see that none of our dis
hes were been put in the judges' plate. Since the theme for this time was Italia
n, we had gone for a breaded, garlic calamari, a squid tomato basil soup and Gar
rett's fancy spaghetti that he once had cooked for me, all truly authentic dishe
s made with squid and tomato.
"We got this." Alonzo grunted, drizzling the sauce on three plates, cursing a li
ttle as he grabbed part of the hot pan with his uncovered fingers.
I quickly sprinkled mozerella over the calamari and handed the rest to a stoic G
arrett, his forehead sweating but no emotion showing.
"It looks like Team America is running behind! Will they make it in seven minute
s?" James asked dramatically, walking past our kitchen unit.
What a dick.
"Kirsten, I need that basil." Garrett muttered sharply, gesturing me to stop gla
ring at James' receding back and help him out.
"We have five minutes left, and the spaghetti just got out of that pot. Layer th
e bottom of the plates with the shredded cheese and put the sauce next before an
other layer of cheese. Then, put the pasta on top with another layer of sauce. G
ot it?" Garrett hissed, pushing me to where the ingredients were. I nodded, thou
gh it was unnecessary and my hands got busily to work. With a minute left and my
arm sshaking, half the mozerella landed on the table instead of the bowl, but I
didn't care, topping the last bowl just as the timer ticked to 30 seconds.
"Kirsten, the bread!"
Nearly tripping over my feet, I yanked open the oven and without putting on any
hot pads, I reached into the 350 degree oven and snatched out three slices, igno
ring the searing pain as my skin came into contact with the metal pan and the ur
ge to just drop the bread and cry; instead, I quickly layered the. over the bowl
s just as the buzzer sounded on the stage.
It felt like my fingers were on fire and I sunk to my knees in pain, barely noti
cing as the rest of my team came running over.
"And team America makes it, but what has happened to sous chef Kirsten? She may
suffer through some severe burns, but now to the judges!" James shouted, as chir
per as ever.
"Kirsten? Are you alright?" Garrett asked frantically, prodding my shoulder unti
l I looked up at him.
"I forgot to put the garlic powder on the bread." I managed to whimper out, exte
nding my hand a little and looking at the puffy, dark red skin that was quickly
accumulating pus under it. It didn't look like there would be any permanent dama
ge but my fingers just hurt so bad.
"Dumbass girl." He muttered under his breath. "Hey let me see." Garrett said gen
tly, prying my hand from my other arm and unclasping my fisted fingers so that h
e could softly run over my palms. "I think you're going to be okay. Let's go up
and see if we get into the finals, alright?"

I nodded, the pain fading a little, getting up from my crouching position and fi
xing my hair as we joined Alonzo and Angela at the front of the stage.
The judges had just finished ours, being the first, and were conferring quietly
at the table with an occasional gesture and nod or shake of the head, never with
any sign that could guarantee us moving on to the finals. I crossed my fingers
behind my back, even the burnt ones, and I prayed.
We had done so much work for this and had put in so much effort that it would se
em like a big waste if we didn't even get to the last round. Garrett had his ent
ire cooking reputation in front of him; if he didn't win, his entire family's pr
estige would go down and his father would not be that pleased with him either.
Alonzo's dream had been to win an important award and he had done so much, like
sacrifice his weird way of saying everything in third person because it bothered
me and Garrett, and got his alcoholism under control.
When the judges finished the very last dish, Tony frowning in concentration as h
e thought about something, my hands got clammy again as we awaited the verdict.
"Judges, you must make the final decision right now. Who will move on to compete
for the ICAF title and who will leave here with nothing?" James commanded from
his spot, excitement shining from his face.
Tony hesitated for a second, saying one last private thing to his cojudges befor
e turning to the competitors and leaning into the microphone in front of him.
"Hello competitors. Before I give out the results for round two, I want to congr
atulate every one of you for your hard work and dedication and also making it th
is far in this international, prestigious competition. Every one of you should f
eeling exceedingly proud, so please give yourself a big round of applause for ea
ch other."
I clapped politely but it was easy to see that everyone was just as nervous and
only clapped because Tony and the other judges did.
"And now, here are the results." Tony cleared his throat before leaning into the
microphone again. "Right now, we have chosen three teams to move on the the fin
al round. The winners will win one million dollars, the trophy and plaque, and p
restigue. The three teams that we have deemed to move on are......"
The slince was deafening.
"Team France!!!"
The crowd cheered.
"Team Kenya!!!"
The cheers grew louder; Kenya was the underdog since few were trained in Asian a
nd Italian cooking so they received a lot of support from everyone.
"And last, but not least, put your hands together for.... Team America!!!!!"
Once I heard our name called, I screamed and jumped straight up, turning to hug
an exuberant Angela who had tears rolling down her tan cheeks. Garrett's grin wa
s so broad as he looked at me, Alonzo slapping him on the chest hard and shoutin
g in rapid Spanish.
Angela disentangled herself from me, nearly sprinting to Alonzo who met her half
way, spinning her around and hugging her tightly to his chest.

Garrett gravitated towards me, grinning hugely as I smiled back at him. "Congrat
ulations." I shouted, giving him a big hug, "you deserve-" Before I could tell h
im how happy I was for him, unlike last time, Garrett's lips slammed onto mine,
his arm circling around my waist to bring me closer to him, me completely surpri
sed at his actions.
At first, I could only stand there, shell shocked as Garrett's warm, soft lips m
olded gently onto mine, teasing me slightly as he ran a hand through my hair. Bu
t as he continued his loving assault, all I could do was melt against his muscul
ar body and kiss him back slowly, placing my hand on his chest as he groaned sli
ghtly. I got so caught up in the moment that where we were and the audience were
forgotten; I didn't realize that I was currently on national TV where my actual
boyfriend could see me making out with the one guy I swore I never would.
When our lips stopped fusing together so we could catch a breath, I froze when I
stared into a pair of passionate, stormy, grey eyes instead of two warm and lov
ing hazel ones staring back at me intensely. As I felt myself freeze as the pres
ent time caught up to me, shoving away the inappropriate kiss, the crowd began t
o cheer, egging Garrett and I on, as James could be heard, not helping by talkin
g about a paparazzi field day and true love coming from cooking.
When all my senses were regained and Garrett opened his mouth to say something,
I panicked, and turning away from the crowd and him, I fled off stage, wanting t
o just get away from it all.
What the hell had I been thinking? I was dating Harrison for god's sake! Why wou
ld I kiss another famous and rich man on national TV? I thought as I sprinted do
wn the hallways, past the producers and wanderers that looked at me as if I was
crazy, well aware that Garrett was hot on my heels. I could hear him yelling for
me to let him explain, to let him apologize, but I didn't stop until I reached
the makeup room not knowing where to go any further.
Sinking to my knees for a second time today, I brushed Garrett off as he crouche
d next to me. Just as he reached over as if to comfort me, the cellphone in my p
ocket rang.
Immediately, I could see Harrison talking on the other side, reassuring me that
he wasn't to hurt that I had gone behind his back and kissed Garrett. He would b
e saying nice, loving things, putting all the blame on himself and never getting
angry because that was who he was. Sometimes I loved that about him, but now? I
t only managed to make me feel guiltier.
Garrett retracted his hand as I reached into my pocket to retrieve my hpone, mec
hanically pressing the green talk button without checking the caller ID. Sniffin
g a little and taking a deep breath, I answered it.
"Hello?"
"Hi honey! It's mom!" Immediately, I thought of my mother yelling at me for chea
ting on Harrison with Garrett by kissing him, as ludicrous as it sounded.
"Uh, hi mom! What's up?" I asked, trying to sound as normal as possible.
Oh you know, just here to lecture you about public displays of cheating affectio
ns...
"I just watched you move on to round two! I'm so happy for you! I can't wait to
see you in an hour for round two !" My shoulders sagged a little when I realized
that the competition wasn't being shown live on air and that it would take a co

uple of hours for Harrison to see it. But, beyond my turmoil, I could hear the a
nxiety in my mother's voice.
"Are you alright mom?" I asked, concerned as she sighed deeply, stress so eviden
t in her tone.
"I actually have another reason for calling and I need to make it quick. Kirsten
... someone's trying to buy the restaurant and he offered 1.5 million for it."
My blood ran cold as the shock registered. My father's sweat and blood and time
and effort, his baby, his home, his treasure, my one main remembrance, was gone?
"What? Did you say yes?" I croaked out, gripping the floor carpet to keep me fro
m fainting.
"I, I'm meeting with him right now. In fact, I'm right outside his office. I'll
call you later okay?"
I hung up, not realizing it until the phone dropped from my hand and my body wen
t limp.
"Kirsten? Kirsten?" Garrett asked frantically, cradling me in his warm arms.
For the second time that day, I looked over at the concerned Garrett and clung t
o him, crying my eyes out, and not knowing what else to do.
********************
VOTE AND COMMENT if you felt this was emotional and that you want more Kirett!!!
!####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Forty-Five
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All I want to say is that you guys are too cute :)
I loved your comments and reactions; please keep posting them for me to see, oka
y!?
Maybe two chapters left and then a good ol' epilogue. So could you guys maybe vo
te vote vote? I would really love to get into the Watty Awards finals and that c
an happen if you all vote for this chapter and vote for every other chapter.
Vote for me under the feedback page as Best Title!
Please, please VOTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
<3 Infatuated
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At first instinct, I thought that the man on the other side of the line was talk
ing about Harrison. But then I realized that Orange County was in California and
Harrison was probably playing his weekly tennis club match since it was Sunday.
Instead of feeling relief like I should have, after all, my boyfriend was safe,
I felt more dread than before, along with a pinch of guilt. I should have felt r
elieved that Harrison was okay, but here I was, worrying over another guy, a guy
that I liked too much to admit and a guy that I kissed on national television.
The saddest part was that I only felt a little panicky when I thought Harrison w

as hurt, but now, as I realized Garrett had gotten into a car crash? The feeling
tripled.
"Excuse me?" I managed to squeak, bracing my arm against the head of the couch.
"Madam, please calm down. Are you Kirsten Bellini?"
"Yeah, yeah, I am. What's wrong?"
"Your boyfriend, Garrett has gotten into a car accident on highway 416 and has b
een brought into the Orange County hospital. For the sake of confidentiality, we
would appreciate if you could come down to the hospital. You're the first perso
n on his contacts list."
Feeling faint, I nearly keeled over onto the couch; instead I focused on his wo
rds and scrambled around the hotel room, grabbing my jacket, shoes, and wallet.
Thank God I hadn't left anything in the room Alonzo and Angela were currently in
.
"Um, yes sir, I'll be right down. But, could you at least tell me how's he's doi
ng?"
There was a pause on the other end that seemed to last for a decade before the g
uy on the other side cleared and throat and said, "Well, since you are his girlf
riend.... we've placed him under an artificial coma. There has been some interna
l bleeding and he has a fractured left shoulder, but overall, nothing too seriou
s or extreme."
I took a shaky breath, my tears blinding my vision slightly as I focused on my t
embling hand, trying to get the right key to take with me. "Alright. Thank you.
I'll be there immediately."
"Take your time miss. Mr. Bianchi will be in the West Wing."
Racing down the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator, I burst out into
the cool, night air, dialing the local taxi number and requesting for a small y
ellow cab. When the car glided to a stop in the parking lost, I flung myself in,
hurriedly asking to go to the Orange County hospital, before taking out my phon
e and dialling Angela's cell.
When she didn't answer after calling her phone twice, I sighed and left a short
message. 'Hey. Garrett's been in a car crash. I'm heading to the hospital right
now. Call you later?'
The drive turned out to be a thirty minute trip, giving me enough time to wonder
how the hospital had assumed I was Garrett's girlfriend, and what Garrett was d
oing so far away from Los Angeles.
Neither question really got a direct answer as I dwelled on them, still lost as
to what had happened in the past hour.
The road trip was quiet and dark, the big city lights fading a little as we head
ed towards the more southern California, the area getting more rural than before
.
When we reached the brightly lit hospital, I gave the old taxi driver a hundred
dollar bill, before hastily exiting the cab and running into the hospital. Immed
iately, I remembered the last time I was in one, when Amelia and Adam had been b
rought in, the night Garrett had broken up with me.

Ah, nice memories.

Blinking back the tears forming in my eyes, I hurried to the counter where a tir
ed looking woman was typing on her laptop.
"Hi. I'm here to see Garrett Bianchi." I said hastily, drumming my fingers soft
ly against the desk as the woman looked up dispassionately and typed more vigour
ously.
"Take the stair, down the first hallway, first door on the right." She droned, b
arely looking up before taking a sip of her coffee. When I didn't move, she rais
ed an eyebrow and muttered, "have a good evening miss."
Trying not to shake my head at her sullen mood, I tucked my wallet into my pocke
t and hurried up the two flights of stairs, winded when I finally reached the We
st Wing. Down the hall and to the left brought me to a blue, cheerful looking wa
iting room, which must have been a good sign. If Garrett had been in dire troubl
e, he wouldn't be near a place with giraffes drawn on the wall.
"Um. Hi." I said, appraoching the next desk cautiously where a nurse was flippin
g through a file.
"Hi miss. Visiting hours were over five hours ago." She replied sweetly.
"Um, I'm here for Garrett Bianchi? I was called in."
Immediately, recognition lit her blue eyes, and she hastily tucked her file unde
r her arm. "Follow me miss. You're Kirsten, right?"
I nodded slightly, trying to keep up with her fast pace, until we reached a shut
door and she knocked gently.
A doctor in a white uniformed peered out, his brows furrowed until he saw me sta
nding there; then he straightened to his full height and extended his hand.
"Ah. Ms. Bellini, yes? I'm Doctor Shaifer."
Noticing that his gloved hand was free from blood or gore, meaning that Garrett
wasn't bleedin profusely to his death, I managed a small smile and shook his han
d.
"Now, before I let you in, I have to warn you. Mr. Bianchi has some internal ble
eding, though we managed to stablize his condition a bit more, and a fractured s
houlder, along with a couple cuts on his face from the glass of his window. It w
ould be best if you could remain calm and not freak out. He's slowly trying to r
egain conscious, but since we did put him under a short, artificial coma, he may
be groggy and uncoherent for several minutes."
I nodded, eager to see Garrett, and Dr. Shaifer slowly opened up the door wider,
admitting me into the room.
There was a big rolly bed to the right side of the room, a heart moniter that be
eped consistently next to Garrett's bed. An IV was attached to his arm, small dr
ips falling into the bag. Getting closer to him, I noticed the splint on his lef
t shoulder, and the cuts on his face. One of them was on the side of his jaw, sh
allow and thin that trailed from under his ear to the middle of his jaw, while t
he other was right down his eyebrow, a much smaller cut, but visible none the le
ss.
Garrett's complexion was still tan, probably from his Italian genes, but it seem

ed that underneath he was pale, comparatively small next to the machines and bed
he was currently on.
"Are you alright, Kirsten?" Doctor Shaifer asked, setting down his clipboard and
taking a seat next to Garrett. "Why don't you sit down? It must really hurt to
see your boyfriend in this condition."
I took a deep breath and sat down in a hard, plastic chair right next to Garrett
's bed. "I think I'll be fine. No freaking out yet."
The doctor gave me a sad smile before checking on Garrett's pulsing and probing
around his chest, making small notes on a pad as he worked.
"Is, is he going to be alright?" I asked, choking a little bit as I looked down
at Garrett's peaceful face.
Sighing, the doctor sat back in his seat before examining me with his eyes. "The
cuts on his face will scar over Kirsten, so I hope you're not superficial. His
shoulder should return to normal as he heals because it's nothing to severe. The
only thing I'm worried about is that the impact caused some internal bleeding i
n his stomach. He's already developing heavy bruising and it may affect his brea
thing for a while, but I really think that Mr. Bianchi has a good chance of full
y recovering. And I'm not just saying this to pacify you."
"Thank you doctor." I managed to reply. Hesitating, I looked down at Garrett. "C
an I touch him?"
Dr. Shaifer's lips curled up, amused. "Of course. He's not a porcelain doll. Jus
t don't punch him in the stomach and you'll be good to go. Would you like some t
ime alone? Just press the red button to call me if Mr. Bianchi begins to regain
consciousness."
Nodding, I watched the doctor walk out before slowly talking Garrett's limp hand
in mine. When I didn't feel the familiar squeeze or his hand gripping my wrist
like he constantly did, I broke down, sobbing quietly as I hed his hand, wonderi
ng why something like this had to happen to him.
It wasn't just the car accident, it was more like our whole situation. Being thr
ust into this accident made me realize that I loved Garrett this entire time, ev
en when he broke up with me and when I agreed to be Harrison's girlfriend. As ha
rsh as it sounded, I had cheated on Harrison the entire time because he was neve
r in my heart the way Garrett was.
Flinching a bit as my cell phone rang, I cast a look at Garrett before picking u
p with a whispered greeting.
"Kirsten!!" A voice wailed on the other end, me immediately realizing that it wa
s Angela. "What happened?"
"Hey Angela." I replied tiredly. "I'm at the Orange County Hospital right now. G
arrett got into a car crash and now he's in an artificial coma because of some i
nternal bleeding. He also got two cuts on his face and a fractured shoulder."
I heard her cuss angrily on the other side before she asked, "will he be okay?"
"The doctor said that Garrett will make a full recovery so I really hope so."
"Oh God. How terrible. What's going to happen tomorrow then?"
"Um, what do you mean?"

"Kirsten, the results show for the Internal Culinary Arts Festival is going to b
e filmed tomorrow. How will you and Garrett be there?"
I mentally slapped my head. After all these events, I had completely forgotten w
hy we were in Los Angeles. "Oh, crap, that isn't good, is it?"
"Shit, shit, shit. This is so screwed up." Angela groaned over the receiver, and
I could just imagine her tearing out her blond hair. "Well Alonzo and I will be
praying back here, okay? Stay strong Kirsten."
"I will." I whispered, staring my phone as we hung up. Tucking it back into my b
ack pocket, I gingerly grabbed Garrett's hand and started talking:
"You know Garrett, when I first met you at the funeral, I thought you had the pr
ettiest eyes and the grumpiest dispostition. Then at the dinner, you were all st
uckup and acting like a player and then I really started to dislike you. But the
n, I started to get you, you know? First, it started with the magazine at the di
nner table, then the classes at school, then the date, and you telling me about
your soup kitchen.... I started to realize what kind of person you are.
I was heartbroken when you broke up with me Garrett. But now I get why exactly.
You did it because you are responsible and you wanted to save the dignity of ano
ther person by making sure she wasn't completely scandalized. You're an honorabl
e person, Garrett. All those masks, the lies, it only.... it only makes me love
you more."
When I finished, several tears trailing down my face, I realized that Garrett's
hand had just gently squeezed mine. Looking up, I came into contact with a pair
of bleary grey eyes that looked at me with gentleness, as he slowly nudged me ag
ain.
Before I could say anything, Garrett cleared his throat and smiled. "I love you
too, Kirsten.
I stared at Garrett for ten seconds straight, the only sound in the room coming
from the IV bag and the heart mintor. Then, as reality hit, I jumped up from the
seat, and started slamming my fingers against the red button, trying to call in
Dr. Shaifer.
"Woah, woah, ah shit that hurt, calm down Kirsten." Garrett whispered in a rough
voice, trying to grip my hand again but failing to do so.
The door burst open and Dr. Shaifer entered, along with the nurse from before, l
ooking at Garrett in alarm before relaxing as he realized nothing was wrong with
him.
"You're awake. Good." The doctor said, coming around his bed to sit down. "Now,
I'm going to have to ask you a couple questions to see if you've hit your head i
n any spots. What's your name?"
"Garrett Robert Bianchi." He stated.
"Parents' names?"
"Yivanni and Robert Bianchi."
"Occupation?"
"Culinary arts teacher and chef."

"Who's this girl sitting next to me?"

"Kirsten Bellini."
"When's your birthday?"
"March 5th."
"What happened?"
"I was driving back from the bank when another car hit me from the left side."
"Do you have any pains in your head?"
"Nope, my stomach and arm just feel like a bitch." Garrett grumbled a bit, shift
ing around in his cot.
"Well, that's going to be normal for the next couple of days. You fractured your
shoulder and your stomach will be bruised. You have a couple of cuts on your fa
ce, but nothing too serious."
Garrett groaned a bit. "Thank you doctor."
"It's been my pleasure. I won't be able to release you until all of the internal
bleeding has cleared up, unfortunately."
Alarm grew on his face. "But, I have something I need to do tomorrow."
"Angela and Alonzo will be there." I reminded him gently, but he shook his head
vigourously, panic crossing his features.
"No, no, I don't care about that. There's um, something else."
"Do you just want me to do it for you?" I asked gently, well aware of the silly
smile on the doctor's face.
"Um, no. It's fine. Can I just borrow your phone?"
The doctor interupted. "I don't think this is the best time to do that but if yo
u can take a two hour nap, we'll see how you're doing, alright?"
Garrett nodded grimly, obviously upset about something, but then lay back in his
bed with a groan. "If you say so."
Dr. Shaifer shook his head in amusement. "I know so."
Afet the nurse and the doctor exited to room, a silence fell over the two of us.
"How do you feel?" I asked gently, looking down at him with a small smile on my
face.
"Like I got pounded with a sledgehammer." Garrett replied. "Are the cuts on my f
ace bad?"
I rolled my eyes playfully. "You're so concerned with your appearance when you s
hould be worrying about your internal bleeding? How shallow."
"I just want to know." Garrett grumbled.

"Don't worry. You don't look bad. Just as hot as sexy as you used to be." I said
dryly, planting a small kiss on his forehead.
"Sarcasm is not appreciated." He replied, smiling a bit. "Thank you for the kiss
. It made my boo boos feel a ton better."
I rolled my eyes but as I tried to come up with something in response, my cell p
hone rang, forcing me to send Garrett an apologetic glance, before picking it up
.
"Hello?"
"Hi Kirsten, it's Harrison."
There was a pause and then I took a deep breath, knowing what I needed to do. "H
i Harrison, I was just about to call you."
"How are you doing Kirsten?" He asked in a heavy tone, his voice quiet.
"I'm stressed and tired. You?"
"Tired and hurting."
"Listen, Harrison, there's something I have to tell you."
"I saw your kiss Kirsten."
Time seemed to stand still as I processed his words. "Harrison..."
"And I have to admit that I've been a hypocrite."
"What?"
"Don't get mad Kirsten."
"Harrison, what's wrong?"
"I've liked this girl at the tennis club for about two weeks now."
"You have?" I asked in a quiet whisper. "Is she nice and beautiful?"
"Yeah, she is. But, I really just wanted to apologize because I've been a hypocr
ite. I'm not mad at you for what you've done because you and Garrett belong to e
ach other, and I'm really sorry for making you feel guilty. I really did like yo
u Kirsten, but, it just wasn't enough."
"Oh Harrison." I muttered sadly. "I'm not upset. I have been feeling guilt all d
ay but don't blame yourself. Can we, can we still be friends?"
There was a slight pause on the other end as a sweet, high pitched voice talked
in the background. "Harrison, are you sure you're okay?"
"Was that the tennis girl?"
"Yeah, Andrea. I would love to stay friends Kirsten. You really do mean a lot to
me, but it just wasn't going to work."
"That's true." I muttered, looking down at Garrett's concerned face and giving h
im a small smile. "What did Andrea mean by if you're okay?"

"Um, well, I was watching you compete at the tennis club and when you and Garret
t kissed, I was kind of shocked and dropped my glass of soda. I got some shards
in my other arm but I'm alright now. Andrea's just worrying too much."
"Well," I said, as Garrett squeezed my hand slightly, "I'm happy for you and And
rea. I have to go now. Talk to you soon?"
"Yeah, and good luck tomorrow. I'll be watching."
"What was that about?" Garrett asked hoarsely, looking at me with concern.
"Harrison was pretty much calling to break up with me." I replied lightly.
"Aw shit. This isn't because of our kiss was it Kirsten?"
I smiled big. "Well, Harrison's in love I'm pretty sure. With his tennis partner
at the club."
Garrett's worried expression melted into one of happiness as he took my hand and
placed a kiss on it. "Does that mean you're all mine now?"
Laughing, I shook my head. "No, it means that you're mine and I'm yours. This re
lationship needs to be balanced.
Garrett replied by tugging my close to him and giving me a big kiss. Being caref
ul not to put pressure on his stomach, I leaned over and kissed him back, bracin
g myself against his bed and running my fingers through his hair.
Seconds later, the door burst open and Dr. Shaifer sprinted in, wildly looking a
round before noticing us and rolling his eyes.
"If you want an audience you can take the bed out into the hall." He teased.
Confused, I looked down at Garrett and realized that my hand was pressing down o
n the red button.
"Oh, gosh, sorry." I said, embarrassed as I tried to get off Garrett but not bei
ng able to as his grip tightened around my waist.
"Be more careful next time. And no strenuous activities Mr. Bianchi." The doctor
smiled before closing the door behind him.
"Well, that was embarrassing." I muttered, burying my head into Garrett's should
er.
"I love it when you get all red."
Looking down at Garrett, I smiled. "I love you period."
Garrett responded with another kiss.
*********************
Vote if you're estatic that they kissed again and said I Love You! Comment with
your opinions! Did you like Kirsten's and Harrison's breakup? What about Garrett
and Kirsten? What's going to happen?####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Forty-Six
####################################

Hey guys! Well here's this chapter, followed by one more chapter, and then it's
the epilogue, yeah?
Like I've said before, I've never reached the first page for teen fiction, meani
ng that I've never gotten ranked higher than #16, and it would really be awesome
if I could get to #15! You can do this by voting for every single chapter and g
iving me your thoughts on this chapter.
Also, Special Awards Nominations are coming to a close and you can vote for your
favorites under the feedback page! CL is running for best title so if you could
take one second to go the the feedback page and nominate Culinaria L'amore, tha
t would be awesome opposum!
<3 Infatuated
********************
I stayed the night at the hospital, refusing to share Garrett's bed in case I ac
cidently squashed his shoulder, and took a nap in the empty waiting room couch.
When I finally woke up, and rushed into Garrett's resting room, he greeted me wi
th a small smile and patted the spot next to his side.
"How are you doing this morning?" I asked, gingerly sitting down and letting him
weave his fingers through mine, gently.
"Stiff, sore, and happy." He replied, kissing my hand before smiling up at me. '
Haven't brushed my teeth yet or looked into a mirror so I'm bracing myself for t
he worst."
I looked over Garrett's face, scanning the dark brown scabs on his cheek and eye
brow, before resting on a small bruise on his jaw. All in all, he looked the sam
e except for the scar, so I shrugged. "I think you look fine."
Garrett raised an eyebrow. "Even my scars?"
"Why wouldn't you?" I asked softly, brushing some hair off his forehead.
"Because... I have my scars."
My eyes widened as I realized what he meant by his words. "Garrett! When did you
get so shallow? Are you worried that I don't like you anymore because of two pa
percuts on your face?"
He grunted. "They're not papercuts and they'll leave scars. I'll look scary."
My heart softened at how vulnerable he looked in the cot, face turned away from
me so that I could only see the unblemished side of his jaw. "Garrett. Look at m
e."
He turned just a little so he could lock eyes with me for a mere second, before
dropping his gaze. "I didn't love you because you used to be quote unquote 'perf
ect'. And if it helps, you look more bad boyish with your scars. Too bad you sto
pped smoking for me, right?"
He nodded with a small smile, squeezing my hand gently. "I would smile more, but
it kind of hurts when I do."
"Aw, poor baby." I cried, scrunching up my face and mock sobbing. "At least you'
ll be fine now."

There was a short silence as Garrett shook his head humorously, before sobering
up quickly. "Mira called last night." Garrett muttered quietly, attempting to si
t up a little but grimacing when he put weight on his left hand.
Immediately, my wariness came rushing back and I watched Garrett, alert. "What d
id she want? An engagement ring? Another baby? Money?"
Garrett looked at me hard for a second before turning away with an apathetic exp
ression. "She said she went back to Paris."
I stilled, processing his words. "Wait, she didn't want anything from you?"
Shaking his head, Garrett squeezed my hand again. "No, she told me that she was
released from the hospital, gave me her new address, and said that if I ever wa
nted to go back to her, she'd be waiting."
"She's such a bitch." I whispered. "She didn't even apologize or anything? Just
pretty much said that if you ever got tired of me she wouldn't mind taking you u
p again?"
"Hey, hey, hey, don't worry. I tossed her address away, wished her good luck wit
h her new fashion line, and hung up. I won't be going anywhere, Kirsten. I swear
." Garrett attempted to calm me down, reaching up and playing with a couple stra
nds of my hair before pulling me in for a hug.
"I know... she just doesn't have any decency or courtesy and she's been getting
on my nerves." I whispered, resting my head on my hands and watching Garrett smi
le comfortingly.
With a sigh, he slid back down in his bed until he was fully flat, then situated
himself so that he could look at me. "Kirsten.... I'm going to tell you everyth
ing."
"Tell me what?" I asked softly, leaning back into my seat.
Garrett made a shushing sound before closing his eyes. "When I first met you at
the funeral, I wasn't upset at you or at your dad. I know you felt like I had a
natural hatred for you, but it was really because I had just ended my relationsh
ip with Mira and wasn't really in the mood.
But then I saw you, so strong and resilient on that podium, that I couldn't help
but feel sad for you and a little angry at myself for being so upset over a sma
ll thing compared to your father's death. You were courtious and tried to be nic
e, but very quiet when my mom introduced us, and suddenly I wanted to apologize
when I watched your blue eyes flit around, filled with emotion.
Then, fastforward a couple days, and I see you at my house, looking beautiful in
your red dress as you ate your calamari stick. I was slightly wasted that night
since I had just found out that I was supposed to inherit my father's legacy, s
omething that I had adamently protested since I was a teen, but when I saw you,
I sobered up. Too bad I was still a little drunk and tried to hit on you, which
surprisingly, didn't have the effect I wanted to."
"Well come o-"
"And that was when I realized you probably hated me." Garrett continued, ignorin
g my protests. "So, I tried to be super nice. Apologizing to you and avoiding yo
u so that I wouldn't mess up again. You know, I didn't know why I did it. Why I
liked you but was too stupid to realize it. Then, you moved in, too grateful tha
t I was shocked at your attitude of yourself. You though you didn't deserve anyt

hing and that only made me love you a little more.

We became good friends, tentatively, even though I was too stupid to ask you ou
t myself, instead calling our date 'payback' and just a friendly gathering. I wa
nted to tell you I liked you, but then you had that friend Jackson, who obviousl
y liked you too. I was the idiot, you know, because at least you knew that Jacks
on liked you. I was just trying to get close enough to you that you'd fall for m
e.
And then we kissed. At the soup kitchen. And that was when I realized I was a to
tal goner. But that didn't last very long, did it? My mom found out, then my dad
found out, and he wasn't really please because he wanted me to focus on ICAF. T
hen Mira said that she was pregnant, and I was stuck in a cage, and on the other
side was you." He swallowed hard, looking across the room at the badly drawn ko
ala bear on the wall.
"Garrett you don't have to keep talking." I said gently. "I get your point."
"No, no, you don't. After I was stuck, pretending to love Mira and dislike you,
I couldn't deal with not being at least friends with you. I was so surprised tha
t you accepted my offer, because I thought you hated me after ditching you for y
our high school enemy. This whole time, I was falling more in love with you, esp
ecially when I compared Mira to you and when I thought of you with Harrison. And
when she lost the baby, that was it. I was yours if you accepted. But then Harr
ison was in the way.
Someone up in heaven must really be looking out for me because Harrison and Mira
are both out of the way and it's just you and me. So, Kirsten... will you accep
t my greatest apologies and become my girlfriend again?"
There were tears in my eyes when he finished, and I couldn't say anything, just
nod my head vigorously and sniff.
********************
After Doctor Shaifer came in and pronounced Garrett fit to go home tonight, sayi
ng that his shoulder was bound, internal bleeding had cleared up, and scars were
healing nicely, I turned on the television and flipped to the Food Network Chan
nel where the International Culinary Arts Festival was going on, opening with th
e three judges doing an hour long special presentation each. Lilianne Rogers mad
e a special Oriental infused steak with onions, broccili and other unidentifiabl
e foods, Phillip Langstom made an Egyptian soup with foreign spices, lamb, chick
en, and kale, and Tony Vandelle made a big show of making homemade chicken potpi
e. All foods that they eventually produced easily made the hospital hotdogs pale
in comparison.
Finally, as portions of their food was divided into the crowd and the judges sat
back down again, James appeared on the screen in a dark blue suit, grinning wid
ely before starting his introductions.
"Last night, we started out with twelve cooking teams from all over the world, r
anging from Africa to Europe to Australia, and our judges have picked out the to
p three teams: Team Kenya, Team America, and Team France. They battled long and
hard last night, fighting for the 100,000 dollars and ICAF trophy, but only one
team will be crowned the chefs of the world. Today, all will be decided. Before
we begin, let us take a look into last night's events."
The large screen behind James lit up and the stages' lights dimmed as the flashb
ack began. It started off with Team Kenya, panning them as the underdogs that gr
adually came into the spotlight with their unique dishes and calm dispositions.

Then we were up next, beginning with the little video clip we had filmed two day
s ago and going into a detailed showing of our cooking: Alonzo was decorating hi
s plate, I was scooping out the tofu balls, Angela was whisking, and Garrett was
cutting up a storm. I had to admit we did look very intense and professional. L
ast came the stoic French, whose decorations, tastes, and attitude screamed perf
ection.
"The judges have spent hours, debating and casting their votes, working furiousl
y to make sure that the winners truly deserve to cinch the title." The camera pa
nned on the judges, showing Lilianne's nonchalance, Phillip's smile, and Tony's
analytical stare, before focusing back on James. "Let's bring out the finalists!
"
Team Kenya came out first, a team of three men and a woman, dressed in their nat
ional colors, black, white, red, and green. Then Angela and Alonzo stepped onto
stage and the crowd went wild. Angela was wearing a simple white gown, with a sw
eetheart neckline, empire waist, and a skirt that flowed down to her feet, while
Alonzo wore a red vest, white t-shirt, and dark blue dress pants.
"People are only going wild because of Alonzo and Angela's attractiveness." Garr
ett muttered, causing me to laughing out loud.
"Wait a second, where are Garrett Bianchi and his sous, Kirsten?" James crowed,
obviously sniffing out good gossip.
Alonzo, holding a microphone, shot the other man a slightly unpleasant smile, be
fore replying, "they won't be able to join us today."
"And why is that? They didn't elope and run off to Vegas did they?" James asked,
amongst the chatter in the audience.
"No, Garrett actually got hurt last night and wasn't able to make it, but we're
sure they're at the hospital, not Vegas, watching on and supporting us." Alonzo
replied cooly, before sending a glare at James.
After Team France went onto the stage, James began talking again. "Team Kenya en
tering this competition has been considered the undog, and are the first team fr
om Africa to participate in the International Culinary Arts Festival. Team Ameri
ca since the beginning has heated up the stage, with an engagement and a kiss, t
hough their cooking is just as hot as their romances."
"What an ass." Garrett grumbled. "They should fire him because he'd do a much be
tter job as an old gossiping lady."
"And Team France has the prestige, the food, but will they make it? How are you
all feeling tonight France?"
The crowd cheered and an old, balding man stepped forward and said in a lilting
accent, "We are confident zat we will be able to win."
His voice reminded me of Pierre back at home, and I smiled sadly. It could be po
ssible that I would never work with him again if L'amore was really sold off. Be
fore depression could hit home, I shook it off and continued to listen.
"I feel like we have this in the bag. We really did what we wanted to and I thin
k everything turned out great." Alonzo said lowly, casting one last warning look
at James before waving to the crowds.
After Kenya spoke about hard work and dedication, James turned to the judges wit
h a blinding smile. "Well, none of those words matter now for the judges have al

ready made their decisions. But first, Bobby Flay!"

"Are you kidding me? Now we have to wait another hour before we find out if we w
in?" I asked with a groan, watching the world renown chef walk onto the stage, s
hake hands with everyone and set up his cooking station.
"At least James isn't able to talk anymore." Garrett muttered with a grin, drawi
ng me in for a hug.
As Bobby began to chop up some celery, Garrett phone rang on his night stand, ma
king him groan and release me so that he could pick it up.
"Garrett Bianchi.... oh, hey dad."
I shot a concerned look at Garrett: I didn't know if Garrett's father knew that
he was injured, so I muted the television and strained my ears to hear their con
versation.
"Yeah, I'm healing fine. No I can't tell you why I drove down to Irvine. Yes it
is where he is located but... I just can't. It's a secret. Yeah, we're watching.
.. wish us good luck! What? Are you being serious? Really?.... That, that really
means a lot dad. Yeah, say hi to mom for me... Kirsten and I.... well I'll tell
you later, okay?"
After Garrett hung up, I raised an eyebrow at him. "Why exactly were you last ni
ght? What were you doing?"
Garrett hugged me again, resting his chin on my shoulder. "I can't tell you yet.
Now let's watch Bobby Flay, okay?"
After the chef finished his presentation, showing off his German dish, James sto
od on the stage in front of the three teams, holding a bright red envelope in hi
s hand. "I have the results ladies and gentlemen! Who's excited?"
When the crowd finally calmed down, James slowly opened the slit and peered insi
de, shaking out a white piece of paper and clearing his throat dramatically. My
dislike for this guy steadily grew.
"In third place, the team who will be receiving twenty thousand dollars and a sm
all deal with Harper Collins to write their own recipe book is........"
The silence was deafening as the crowd held their breath and Garrett's heart mon
iter beeped. The strobe lights suddenly flashed downwards to spotlight the three
teams as James drew out the tension.
"Team FRANCE!!!! Congratulations guys!"
The sullen look on the men's faces showed that they weren't exactly happy, but a
ccepted their prize none the less.
"Alonzo looks like he's about to pee his pants." I whispered as Kenya and Americ
a were told to scootch closer together, but not too close that they were in 'pun
ching distance' as James said with a small chuckle.
"Tell me about it. I don't I would be that nervous if I were on that stage."
"Are you nervous?" I questioned, taking in Garrett's content smile.
"Nah."

"Now we have left Team Kenya and Team America. The second place team who will re
ceive sixty thousand dollars, a deal with Harper Collins to publish their own re
cipe book, and a spread in Cooking Monthly is..........."
"Team America!" The crowd burst into a frenzy, some booing, some cheering, but t
he noise was so loud that I had to turned down the volume on the television.
"Well, congrats." I said softly, looking over at Garrett, unsure of how to act.
Garrett was grinning widely, trying to clap with his brace on as Alonzo and Ange
la accepted the large check for $600,000 and certificates for the book deal and
spread. "I'm super happy. We did good Kirsten."
"And... what about your dad? Will he be upset?" I asked tentatively, not wanting
to break his good mood.
"Apparently not. He just told me that he was proud of me even if I didn't win."
"And that means a lot to you, doesn't it?"
"Yeah... well that and you of course." Garrett replied cheesily.
I rolled my eyes. "Second place deserves a celebration. Let's see if we can get
you out of here, back in Colorado, and we'll go from there, yeah?"
The grin I received was surprising as Garrett's grey eyes twinkled gleefully as
if he knew something I didn't. "Yeah, let's go home."
********************
So what do you think has to do with Garrett's secrecy? And how do you feel about
second place? Vote and comment!####################################
Culinaria L'amore Chapter Forty-Seven
####################################
Last chapter before the epilogue guys! I'm excited... yet sad. Happy but remorse
ful that everything's coming to an end, and that we'll have to say goodbye to Ki
rsten and Garrett and the rest of the crew. Which means that there's no spinoff,
no sequel, no prequel... nada. Just this part and and the epilogue. So.... IF Y
OU REALLY LOVED CULINARIA L'AMORE THEN VOTE FOR EVERY CHAPTER!! AND SUPPORT IT I
N THE WATTY'S FOR TEEN FICTION AND BEST TITLE!!!
That's all.
But I do have a serious question and it would be super nice if you could take on
e second to answer it: once CL is complete, will you continue on and read my nex
t book or will I have to expect five reads on every chapter?
Thanks!
<3 Infatuated
********************
Our beraggled group, Alonzo, Angela, Garrett, and I arrived at the Den
ver International Airport late the next night. Although we did have the luxury o
f the private plane, Alonzo was wobbly, probably from the champagne, Angela look
ed a tad green, and I was absolutely exhausted, ready for a nice soft bed and a
sleeping mask. Garrett, however, was talking nonstop on his cellphone, speaking

rapidly in a mixture of Italian and English, half the words too garbled for any
of us to comprehend as we picked up our luggage from the desk, and looked around
to see if we recognized anyone.
When Garrett realized what we were doing, he shot me a bright smile be
fore resting a hand gently on my back and steering me towards the automatic door
s, going 'mhm' every two seconds as the person on the other line delivered a hef
ty monologue.
Alonzo and Angela followed warily, and as a big blast of frigid Colora
do winter, I shivered in my light jacket and gripped Garrett's hand more tightly
.
"Where the hell are we going?" Alonzo asked blearily as we came to a s
tandstill on the wide sidewalk, all of us watch Garrett warily as he started wav
ing and jumping up and down at the cars.
Garrett had been released from the hospital yesterday morning, his fac
ial scars healing over nicely and his shoulder beginning to recover. Ever since
we had began packing our bags, he had been excited over something, always grinni
ng at himself and never stopping to take a break from his smile. I hadn't bother
ed asking why he was in such a good mood in fear of ruining it, so I just watche
d, complacent.
"Ah, here we go." Garrett said happily, watching as a big black Merced
es Benzs came rolling to a smooth stop in front of our group. Grabbing my bag wi
th a grunt, much ot my protest, he opened the trunk with his injured side and sh
oved my suitcase in, before beckoning the other two to do the same.
Sliding into the back, I was met with a pleasant surprised as Toben tu
rned around in his seat and grinned at me. "How's my darling lady doing?" He ask
ed in a Boston droll, honking the horn so that the people in front of us jumped
in fright, before tossling my hair.
"Garrett's lady is doing just fine." I replied, just as happy, managi
ng to stretch my hand out far enough to touch the tips of his curls before Garre
tt's voice rang out from the back.
"Toben!? Do you mind helping out back here and stopping your obnoxiou
s flirting with my girlfriend?"
After everything was settled in the trunk, Garrett squeezed next to m
e in the very back, and Alonzo and Angela took the seats in front of us. Gently
taking my hand, Garrett rolled his thumb over my palm, giving me a reassured and
excited smile before saying to Toben, "you know where to go."
His words caused me to frown in confusion but he just shook his head.
"Don't worry about it Kirsten."
The drive to the Bianchi Mansion took only twenty minutes, but lookin
g out the window ten minutes later, Angela and Alonzo both conked out in the fro
nt, I realized that we were still on the highway, heading toward Colorado Spring
s instead of East Denver.
"Um, Toben? Where are we going?" I asked quietly, as Garrett's head be
gan to fall on my shoulder.
Looking through the rearview mirror, Toben just winked and grinned sly
ly. "We're going to have some fun."

"In Colorado Springs?"

"Where else?" Toben asked with a dramatic roll of his eyes, turning up
the radio as Mumford & Sons came on.
I paused, taking a glance at the familiar, snow-covered landscape, ju
st the way I liked it. "In that case, could we stop by L'amore so I can see it o
ne last time before it gets bought?"
Last night as I packed my bags, my mother had called, saying that sh
e had sold L'amore to a new owner and that she was truly sorry. She didn't sound
that remorseful, but I couldn't blame her: who paid one million dollars for a s
mall restaurant that wasn't even a big chain like McDonalds? None the less, I st
ill felt horrible about the whole event and moped around our hotel room for the
rest of the night, Garrett's reassuring kisses doing nothing. When I got back to
the mansion, I needed to call Pierre and the rest of the crew, a moment that I
was not looking for.
Without looking at me, Toben replied in a monotone. "Sure. What's the
address?"
Just then, Garrett stirred and groaned, stretching his arms as far as
he could and wincing when he yawned too widely so that his scabs stretched uncom
fortably. "Dude, where are we going?"
"L'amore."
Garrett suddenly jerked, looked at Toben in panic, and when the other m
an just grinned satisfied, Garrett turned to me with a sorrowful expression on h
is face. "I'm sorry. Are you sure you want to go there?"
I nodded, tired, and sunk into Garrett's embrace. "It's alright. Not t
hat big of a deal."
In a couple minutes, I dozed off peacefully in Garrett's embrace, only
to be awakened violently as someone flicked my forehead.
"What?" I asked quickly, sitting up ramrod straight, and looking aroun
d the interior of the car. Alonzo, the culprit just laughed and shook his head,
gripping Angela's hand tightly in his before getting out of the car. Garrett and
Toben were already outside, tapping their feet and laughing. I slowly got out o
f the car, absorbing the familiar parking lot of L'amore. Noticing the absence o
f all cars except for an unfamiliar one, probably the new owner's, I frowned sad
ly, took Garrett's outstretched hand, and slowly walked up the steps to the door
.
The interior from the outside looked abandoned and unlit, even though
it was late afternoon and L'amore was supposed to be open, which just made me sa
dder, realizing that no one was as passionate of this place as my dad.
Garrett opened up the door for me, winking as I entered, groping aroun
d for the light, when suddenly, a massive chorus of "SURPRISE!!!!" rang from wha
t seemed like every inch of the restaurant. The light went on without my help, a
nd I gasped as everyone I knew grinned widely, and came rushing forward.
Amelia, Ricky, Harrison, the Bianchis, my mom, Pierre, and a bunch of
other people started talking at once about our second place win, but I could onl
y stare at the big banner hanging from the ceiling of the restaurant.
"WELCOME HOME KIRSTEN!" It read in bold, red paint, "PROUD SECOND PLAC
ER AND NEW OWNER OF L'AMORE!!!!"

"What?" I sputtered, looking bewildered at the presents, and at the wo

rds, not understanding how I could possibly be the new owner of a place that had
just been sold to a millionaire. Unless of course, I bought it, which I didn't.
Suddenly, I had the urge to call my bank.
"Come on." Garrett whispered, tugging me towards a table with the nume
rous presents stacked on it, pushing me gently into the seat before everyone gat
hered around us.
I received a purple sweater from Amelia, a nice $50 gift card to Starbu
cks from Ricky, a 'KISS THE CHEF' apron and hat set from Mr. Bianchi which he ga
ve to me with a small wink, an expensive set of perfume from Yivanni as well as
a funny set of weird scented perfume like hamburger and curry, meant as a joke,
a bunch of doggy toys and treats from Toben, a She's The Man DVD from Pierre who
told me that is was his new favorite American film, a can of chicken noodle sou
p and a set of kiddie tennis balls from Harrison, a sloppily wrapped box of cond
oms from Alonzo and Angela which I blushed red from and handed it right back to
them and my mom actually laughed, and a envelope with two plane tickets to New Y
ork for a week from Elle, who wrote that she regretted not being able to see me
compete, but was happy with the kiss I shared with Garrett on screen.
I accepted each graciously, though I kept on casting glances at the b
anner, until my mom stood up, with a flute of champagne and called for everyone'
s attention, giving me a wink before clearing her throat.
"Good afternoon everyone!" She said clearly. "I hope everyone's havin
g fun and enjoying the party! I've invited everyone of you to celebrate our new
champions Alonzo, Angela, Garrett, and my daughter Kirsten! And for the big surp
rise, Garrett, come on up!"
He left my side and walked up next to my mom, stepping onto a restaur
ant chair before resting his dark grey eyes on me solely.
"Kirsten, we've had some rough times, but most of them have been wond
erful. I've learned a lot about myself from you and I've grown to the love the w
onderful, amazing person you are. Kirsten will you...."
Yivanni looked like she was close to tears and Mr. Bianchi was rubbin
g her back, though it looked like he was the one that needed the comfort. Alonzo
and Angela were cooing and making hearts at us, and Toben just stood to the sid
e, pleased. I couldn't find Harrison in the crowd, much to my disappointed, but
then my attention was drawn to Garrett as he cleared his throat and continued.
"Kirsten, will you accept this gift? So small in comparison to what y
ou deserve?"
I stood on shaky legs and walked to where he was, and watched
xtracted a simple envelope from his back pocket, before handing it to me
y. The entire restaurant was silent as they watched, and I slowly opened
elope, slitting the opening with a finger and extracting a check for one
dollars.

as he e
solemnl
the env
million

It wasn't exactly like hard cash more like a copy of the original: it
had been made out to Rosemary Bellini three nights ago, and had been written slo
ppily in Garrett's handwriting, stating that he was buying L'amore.
Taking it in shaky hands and letting the envelope drop onto the table
surface, it suddenly came to me. Garrett had gotten into that car crash three ni
ghts ago after coming home from the bank. He had gone to make me happy, and suff

ered for it.

Garrett watched me eagerly and nervously, and slowly, I stepped forwa
rd. So overcome with emotion, all I could do was take a ragged breath and fall i
nto his arms.
**********************
I received a lot of compliments and praise that night and all I could
do was nod and blink away the tears. Slowly, everyone began to trickle away, com
ing up with excuses to leave me and Garrett alone. One the last person had left
with a wink, I sat down in a seat and watched Garrett approach me hesitantly.
"Hey, are you okay?" Garrett asked slowly, sinking down to his knees a
nd looking at me in the eyes, concerned.
I nodded quickly, taking his face in my hands and traced his scars as
softly as possible. "Thank you." I whispered, dropping my hands and looking back
at him.
"Aw, it was no big deal. Everyone was in the whole party idea, even Al
onzo and Angela-"
"That's not what I meant." I said, "Thank you for dumping a million d
ollars on me so that I could be happy."
Garrett's face soften, his grey eyes turning molten as he gripping my
hands in him. "Anything for you Kirsten. Anything. I'm going to need a lifetime
to make up to you."
I nodded emotionally, gulping a little as Garrett smiled reassuringly
.
"Come here." He muttered roughly, opening his arms and watching me s
ink into his embrace. Hesitantly, he took his face in his warm, rough hands, bef
ore molding his lips to mine.
This kiss was unlike any that we had shared before: he was hesitant a
t first, and then slowly, his smooth lips began to massage against mine gently a
nd he ran his fingers through my hair. I gripped the back of his neck and closed
my eyes, emotions running through us both as we enjoyed the moment, only stoppi
ng for one second before repeating. He became more urgent, hugging me closely to
his warm, solid chest and I replied by resting my head on his chest, catching m
y breath as tears of happiness formed in my eyes. When we both fully recovered a
nd just hugged, him placing light kisses on my neck and shoulder before going ba
ck to my lips, I sighed in content.
The best part? There was no old, homeless lady to barge in and start giving us s
exual innuendos, no pregnant women to tear us apart, or anything else. Not even
a gay bestfriend, coming up with silly nicknames for us as we made out. Just the
candlelight, wrapping paper, and us.
********************
Last chapter!! Ah!!!! If you liked it, vote! If you read it, vote!!! Please!!!
And, dont forget to answer the question, okay???? Please??
There will be an epilogue and an extra chapter so it is NOT THE END.... yet :)

<3 Infatuated####################################
Culinaria L'amore Epilogue
####################################
And here it is! The very last final part of Culinaria L'amore. I'm super sad tha
t there won't be more after this but I have to ask you guys three questions that
I would REALLY like you to answer: 1) What'd you think about the story as a who
le and 2) what can I improve on with this story when I edit? and 3) what do you
want to know about any characters? Any questions about/for them?
Also if you can notice the subtle refrence slash scene, and comment below, I'll
dedicate a chapter to you that I haven't dedicated yet :)
NOTE: this is not the last part of CL. There will be an EXTRA CHAPTER after this
one, so don't go away just yet :)
So guys, let's make this a good one, okay? Vote and comment until the buttons bl
ow a fuse or something (hopefully not in your electronic device).
IF YOU ENJOYED CULINARIA L'AMORE CHECK OUT MY STORY 52. IT'S ANOTHER ROMANCE AND
I THINK YOU'D LIKE IT!
<3 Infatuated
********************
Six Years Later
"I take Harrison Opel to be my wedded husband. To have and to hold from this day
forward, for better or worse, for rich or poor, in sickness and health, to lose
and cherish till deather do us part."
There was a rustle of satin as I shifted slightly in my position, tears whelming
up in my eyes.
"Can we please have the rings?" The priest asked in a commanding tone as the gol
den haired little boy stepped forward and presented the little blue cushion with
the shining round rings on top.
Harrison bent down to retrieve his in one swift motion, coming up and looking in
tensely, his hands shaking a little as he presented his ring in all seriousness.
"I give this to you as a sign of my commitment and my love, for forever, I will
cherish you."
My tears threatened to fall as I opened my mouth. "I give this ring to you as a
sign of my commitment and my love, for forever, I will devote myself to you."
There was a pregnant pause as the crowd waited with baited breath for the best p
art of the entire wedding and I shifted impatiently, my hands getting clammy in
anticipation, as I yawned, stretching my mouth even wider while soft music began
to play.
"With the power invested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may ki
ss the bride."
I was the first one to stand in my seat, vigourously clapping and wiping away my
fallen tears as Harrison swooped down and planted a big smooch on his bride's m
outh, picking her up bridal style and grinning widely with happiness at the appl
auding crowd. I was so overwrought with emotion that I trembled in my gold heels
, barely containing my excitement and joy.
"Hey, honey, calm down a bit. You look like you're about to hypervenilate or som
ething." Garrett mumbled quietly next to me, looking down with adoration in his
eyes as he wiped away a stray tear from my cheek. I nodded with a shaky breath,
still clapping as Harrison walked down the church aisle with his new wife, winki
ng at me as he past.
Garrett looked down at his watch that peeked over the cuff of his black suit, re
laxing when he saw that there was twenty minutes before the reception started, g
iving us enough time to head to the tent and make sure that all of our catered d
ishes were ready.
After the Internation Culinary Arts Festival ended and Garrett recovered from hi
s injuries, Garrett and I decided to collarborate, still running L'amore success
fully and starting up our own catering company. Garrett's specialty was his cake
s and French pastries, a feat that took him years after my constant teasing abou
t his lack of knowledge in baking boxed brownies, while I stuck mainly to the ap

petizers and main courses though we would often swap if one of us had a shift at
the restaurant and couldn't finish the dishes that a variety of people would re
quest. B&B Catering became wildly successful very quickly when I was twenty; pe
ople ranging from stuffy business men to harried moms ordered frequently, though
money wasn't a concern. Both Yivannia and Mr. Bianchi were alive and well, enjo
ying retirement as Alonzo and Angela ran the Bianchi Institution when Garrett wa
s out of town or couldn't work.
"Let's go." I whispered happily, linking my hand with his and admiring my own d
iamond ring on my finger. Garrett and I weren't married, much to my mother's dis
pleasure, because I felt that twenty-five was too young to tie the knot, and Gar
rett agreed. But none the less, staking his 'claim', he had gotten on one knee t
wo months ago, pulled out a velvet blue box, and asked me to marry him, because
he "didn't want anyone else to get the chance for the next five years."
Looking down at the bowl of frosting, one that we had brought just in case of an
emergency, I dipped a finger in and enjoyed the fluffy cream cheese frosting Ga
rrett had mixed up. Turning to Garrett, I offered the bowl, but he was distracte
d, staring at my lips.
"Kirsten, you have some frosting on your mouth." He muttered softly, his gaze no
t moving from my lips. I could feel my heart flutter under my dress, and as I st
ared into his grey eyes surrounded by the long eyelashes I adored, I swore that
I could see something like hunger in his eyes. Hunger for something other than f
ood.
But before he could lean down and kiss me, the flaps to the reception tent burst
open and Toben came in, straightening his tie and grinning at us, leaving me a
bit flustered and self consciously licking my lips to clean up any messes.
"Looks like you're making well use of your time Kirrett." He smile, winking at m
e while patting Garrett on the back. "Need me to distract the guests for a coupl
e minutes so you guys can finish your.... business?
"No need." I replied dryly, as people and voices flooded inside, heading to thei
r seats at the round tables.
Looking up at Garrett with a grin, him having a frustrated look on his face beca
use he couldn't kiss me, I tugged on his hand and admired my engagement ring.
Knowing that all he wanted to do was get close and... enjoy my company in privat
e, I decided to tease him and scoop up another bit of icing with the crook of my
finger and licking it off, grinning as his dark grey eyes grew dark with frustr
ation. He was annoyed, undoubtly, but he had to wait.
After all, we had a love stronger than the love of food. An eternal love.
-THE END####################################
Culinaria L'amore Extra
####################################
So, here's the extra chapter! This is consisted of two parts: one is a scene in
later years, while the second part is my thought process for the entire story. T
his isn't another chapter of Culinaria L'amore exactly, but rather a cute scene
and a compilation of original ideas, character changes, the thought process for
Culinaria L'amore, tips for budding writers,and a ton of humorous stuff that you
'll hopefully enjoy!
Don't forget to vote. Culinaria L'amore is up for the Watty's and needs your sup
port!
********************
The heavy door slammed shut behind me as I let myself in with a groan and floppe
d onto my comfortable bed. Taking out my tight braid, I ran my fingers through m
y hair a couple times before turning onto my back and staring up at the ceiling.
The day had been exhausting: I had a business meeting with the staff of B&B fro
m 7-9, then went straight to my office and scheduled two more groups of people.
Instead of getting lunch with Garrett like we had planned to, I had run late aft
er receiving a complaint from a customer, ranting about us running out of food a
t her party, when it was really her fault for not ordering enough. After getting

a bite from the kitchen, I went straight to L'amore because of some malfunction
s with one of the oven, and here I was, just ready to sit back and watch a chick
flick.
Leaning forward and injecting the DVD for P.S. I Love You, a classic chick flick
, I groaned before settling back and watching the trailers with little interest.
Ten minutes later in the movie, I was enjoying Gerald Bulter's Scottish accent w
hen Garrett knocked and entered softly, seeing me on our bed and smiling.
"I brought you a snack." He said quietly, holding out a plate of cheesecake brow
nies. "It's my new recipe. Try it."
I grinned back at him, muting the movie before reaching over and snagging the bi
ggest piece. "You're a life saver." Taking a big bite, I moaned in content, enjo
ying the melted chocolate chips and the rich cream cheese.
"Bad day? I missed you at lunch." Garrett asked, crawling onto the bed and kissi
ng my cheek before grabbing a brownie for myself.
"It was alright." I muttered with a shrug, watching the movie for a second and t
hen turning it off, much rather talking with Garrett than watch the main charact
er die off. "I have to go to Andrea's bridal party or something tonight at the t
ennis courts.How was your day at school?"
Garrett tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear before replying. "We made browni
es."
I cracked another smile. "I can't believe you're such a successful baker because
I used to tease you about your baking skills."
He rolled his eyes before handing me another brownie and placing the plate on th
e nightstand. "What can I say? You're a lifesaver, Kirsten."
"Aw," I cooed, "you're so adorable."
His face turned serious as he regarded me from his position. Shifting a little,
he took a DVD out of his front pocket. "I brought you a new chick flick so you c
an watch another movie other than P.S whatever."
"Hey! P.S. I Love You is one of the best movies ever." I said in defense.
"I think I'm going to need a Scottish accent to make you happy." Garrett replied
, looking at me with a sad, puppy dog face.
Leaning over, I planted a small kiss on his lips before he could say anything el
se. He grinned widely before sliding off the bed and taking out my DVD and putti
ng in his new one.
"Which one is this?" I asked, snuggling up next to Garrett.
"Sh, you'll see."
I watched the previews sleepily, laughing at some of them, while tracing pattern
s on Garrett's tan skin. As the last one ended and the copyright statement came
on, I gasped as the title of the movie came on:
My Kirsten
Garrett stroked my hair as the image disappeared and picture of me by myself and
with him came on: there were snapshots of me cooking or baking, dressed in a fl
oral dress for the opening of Toben's pet store, as a five year old at the park,
and other quick images of me in the past five years.
Then came pictures of me with him: us hugging, holding hands, making brownies to
gether, making funny faces at the camera, holding Simbah, and me carrying a huge
stuffed bear as he held me in his arms. There were short video clips of us toge
ther at ICAF and in later years.
By the time the last picture disappeared, tears were streaming down my face and
as I hurriedly wiped them away, Garrett was kneeling at the edge of the bed, sta
ring at me solemnly.
"Kirsten, we've been together for a long time, a really long time, and in those
years, I've never wanted someone as much as I've wanted you. So, I have to ask y
ou know, will you Kirsten Bellini, marry me?"
All I could do as he pulled out a diamond ring from his back pocket, nestled in
a small velvet blue box, was nod.
THE REAL THE END
The Characters
Kirsten originally was supposed to be a redhead with a 'fiery' personality that

didn't take crap from anyone. And her name was Vienna. Then I realized that her
character would be cliche, so I worked hours on end, not really, and tried to ma
ke her a strong but heartbroken character that later developes into her own shel
l. Then I had to change her name because I saw The Bachelor Pad, a TV show based
off of The Bachelor and The Bachelorette, and man, she was such a manipulative
bitch. So I realized that I wouldn't be able to write about Vienna without wanti
ng to stab my eyes out. I think I did well with Kirsten, but you readers are the
judge of that.
Garrett... is not a motorcycle riding, mob leading, tattoo covered, cigarette sm
oking, bad boy that I wanted him to be. Originally, Garrett was supposed to have
a super dark and intense bad boy history, but then I realized I couldn't write
about it because I'm not exactly the epitome of a rule breaker... I didn't know
what a mob was, or a gang, or how it worked, or what members did. And I have no
clue about drugs or guns, or anything like that. So, Garrett's a normal hot guy
who has had a horrible choice in girlfriends and a bad relationship with his dad
. Oohhhh, so badass! Yeah? Yeah? No, not really.
Yivanni and Kirsten's mom were supposed to be matchmakers for the two main chara
cters... but that never turned out right. Then Rosemary Bellini was supposed to
be super sick and maybe get breast cancer but then I didn't want half the story
to be where Kirsten's crying at the hospital. That would have been too angsty an
d boring
Now Mr. Bianchi.... don't hate me guys, but he was supposed to be a child molest
er. No joke. Bianchi Institute was going to have a bad reputation because of rum
ors that Mr Bianchi was a 'hey kid want some candy?' kind of guy. But obviously
he's just a normal, fat dude who doesn't like to talk a lot. Funny how that turn
ed out, eh?
Jackson was originally supposed to be Kirsten's long term, artsy boyfriend, with
thick glasses and a super gentle persona. ??? Nuff said.
Toben was spontaneous. There wasn't going to be a gay best friend... everything
about him is random and found from the recesses of my head on the spot. His dog.
.. his fake accents... Toben wasn't supposed to be real, well none of these char
acters are real but, you know. He's just a compilation of thoughts :(
Goldilocks...? She was Garrett's dog, but then Toben magically poofed onto the p
age and it just clicked. She really didn't do anything but bark....
Amelia and Ricky needed to be in it because Kirsten needed a cooking partner and
I wanted a ginger in the book, so appeared red-head Amelia. She's not soulless
or anything, as cool as that would be, because I haven't written a paranormal st
ory before.
Adam Ramsey is the name of a kid in my school who's sister I used to be friends
with. It's really weird writing about a murderer/rapist who is just some random,
innocent boy that I used to talk to.... but I'm pretty sure he does drugs.... s
o scratch out the innocent part...
Harrison was also very spontaneous. Sorry Harrison lovers but I only had a Harri
son because I liked the name and because I wanted another hot guy in the plot. H
ow he developed into Kirsten's friend/ later boyfriend/ friend is beyond me... b
ut he originally was supposed to be an Australian surfer boy character with a fu
nny accent that Toben was jealous of. But then I watched the 2003 Peter Pan and
thought that Jeremy Sumpter as a ten year old looked like Harrison... as a ten y
ear old of course. And then I wrote the chapter where I introduced Harrison at m
y tennis club after practice so he turned out to be a slick tennis player who lo
oks like an older version of Peter Pan. One more question guys: is there anyone
out there who thinks Jeremy Sumpter is unattractive? I mean, come on!
Maggie, the old lady that interupts Kirsten and Garrett's first makeout session
in the soup kitchen was incorporated because I don't know how to write kissing s
cenes. Once I thought it was getting super awkward (Kirsten and Garrett weren't
breathing while they made out for about a minute), and not passionate, or realis
tic at all, Maggie appeared. Of course she just made it more awkward... the iron
y...
Mira... that bitch, yeah? The whole thing with Mira and Jake Vagress and all tha
t stuff with Kirsten and Homecoming... I seriously think I need to delete all of

that. Not the character Mira, much to the displeasure of everyone of course, bu
t I tried to make it too complicated and then it flunked. Yes, Mira is the typic
al blond, sexy bitch that everyone loves to hate. It really wasn't hard writing
her character because she's super cliche.
Elle probably needs to be deleted too... along with her boyfriend whose name I s
tole from this guy who hates my guts. Wait no, I should just make him warty with
a ton of nose hairs... yeah... that sounds like a good idea. Elle's a ballerina
because I was watching Dance Moms when I wrote that and because ballerinas are
just chill.
Pierre was based off my horrible french teacher. But he's cooler than she could
ever be.
Andrea, Harrison's wife is the person who took him to the hospital, the girl who
plays tennis with him. She was made up last second.
The Plot
The original idea was for Kirsten to go to school and fall in love with Garrett.
Whoo! Really not exciting... so someone suggested cooking competitions so then
I could incorporate that which turned out to be the big climax.
Spontaneous events: Practically the whole book including,
Amelia getting raped by Kirsten's dad's murderer.
Toben banging on Kirsten's door.
Kirsten meeting Harrison.
The bumblebee costume.
The competition.
Someone wanting to buy L'amore
Alonzo and Angela always making out.
Mira getting preggers.
Garrett and Kirsten breaking up.
Simbah.
Harrison and Kirsten washing Simbah.
Practically everytime Kirsten burst into tears.
The photoshoot and video thing... and the interview.
Simbah tripping Mira and peeing on her fancy high heels.
The miscarriage.
Harrison getting hurt.
The surprise party.
I must admit that I was cliche with some stuff but super original and wacky with
other parts... thanks for dealing with all the curveballs guys :P
Happy Ever After???
(WARNING: if you would rather imagine by yourself what happens after the end of
Culinaria L'amore, skip this section! You've been warned. I don't want complaint
s from people saying I ruined it!)
Kirsten and Garrett get married on October 30th, two years after Garrett propose
s. Kirsten is twenty-seven and Garrett is thirty-one and in attendance includes
Toben and his boyfriend, Amelia, and Simbah, along with Harrison, Andrea, and th
eir daughter. Angela and Alonzo were unavaliable because they were on their exte
nded two year anniversary honeymoon. The main dessert was brownies, boxed browni
es made by the groom at that.
One year later after their wedding, their twins Robert (Robby) Bianchi and Rosem
ary (Rose) Bianchi are born.
Amelia and Ricky breakup shortly after the end of CL as Amelia gets into drugs b
ecause of her hard past and is placed into rehab. However, she never fully recov
ers, and dies from alcohol poisoning a few months after Kirsten and Garrett's ma
rriage.
Alonzo and Angela never have children but enjoy running the Bianchi Institute an
d sneaking into the pantry. They occasionally babysit Robby and Rose when Kirste
n and Garrett are busy, and always tell wild tales about their parents, none of
which are actually true, but the twins, poor kids, believe them.
Mira Winters eventually marries a wealthy Frenchman and lives her life in luxury
, without a clothing line or a modelling career left. She occasionally Facebook
stalks Garrett and Kirsten. It is never know whether Mira was actually pregnant,

if the kid was Garrett's, or if it was another man's. That remains a mystery to
the day. But who really cares?
Theresa, Garrett's former love, eventually becomes a prostitute and contracts AI
DS, dying and leaving her kid in an orphange.
Toben opens up a pet store after getting inspired by Simbah and Goldilocks, but
dies at the age of thirty-five after a plane crash.
Harrison marries his tennis partner Andrea, and they have one kid, Peter Kristop
h Opel. They eventually run a tennis club together and are one of the top tennis
doubles player in the league.
Jackson and Caroline, the other waitress who liked Jackson, get together after g
etting drunk, and have a kid together out of wedlock. However, they constantly f
ought, so Caroline walks out on her child and Jackson and moves to California. S
he blames Jackson's lack of love on his 'crush' on Kirsten. Later, Jackson commi
ts suicide because of his failing start up company and is found by his roommate.
Elle and Nick Mrotek breakup a month after the winter holidays when Elle finds o
ut that he has a ton of warts, bad breath, and nose hairs. (Did you read the sec
tion above about where her boyfriend's name came from? Yeah.) She continues her
studies at Julliard and joins the Russian Ballet Company, much to her disbelief,
and manages to learn Russian in less than a year. She and Kirsten never see eac
h other again.
Pierre eventually becomes the coowner of L'amore much to his pleasure. He contin
ues to talk in Frenglish and never stops scolding Kirsten even though she no lon
ger works there.
Rosemary restarts her real estate business and soon is as successful as she used
to be. She never remarries because she and her husband had a love stronger than
the love of food, just like Kirsten and Garrett do.
Eight years after they placed second at ICAF, Alonzo, Angela, Kirsten, and Garre
tt return for the All Stars competition and get second place... again.
The next season, they are invited to judge the competition.
THE END
NOTE!!
Please check out my new story, 52. It's very much appreciated!
Never to talk to any of you again on this story,
Love,
Infatuated