Chapter 7.


    <strong>Chapter 7. Lunch with a Nosy Neighbor (3/3)</strong>


    <span style="font-weight:400">asionally gentle warm gusts of wind blew into the ssroom from the open window in front of her. Her hair flowed in and out brushing against my cheek and arms ever so lightly. It was a bit ticklish to the skin, but it wasn’t to the point someone wouldugh.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Five minutes passed by with the two of us in silence. The only thing that could be heard to our right was the chatter from the hallway and a few other students who remained inside the ssroom talking quietly among their small groups. I felt strangely rxed and closed my eyes to listen to the sound of the sporadic wind blowing by from my left as it mixed together with the chatter from our right.


    <span style="font-weight:400">If she was always quiet like this, I couldn’t help but think being around her wouldn’t be so bad.


    <span style="font-weight:400">As if she’d heard my thoughts, she broke the silence between us and asked, “You’re not eating anything for lunch again?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">With my eyes closed I responded, “Since you’re always staring at me, you should already know the answer without needing to ask, right? Have you ever seen me eat anything for lunch before?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“No, I haven’t. Do you even eat?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Of course I do.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“What do you eat for breakfast then?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Nothing.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Huh? Wait… you go without breakfast and lunch?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Yeah, I usually just eat once a day and that’s enough for me.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“That’s really not good for your health. You should start eating properly. Three times a day, breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’ll pass.” I didn’t have the money to spare to eat three times a day. It also took far too much energy to prepare three meals a day.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Aren’t you hungry right now?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“No, I’m not.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Isn’t the reason you’re always sleeping in ss because you’re actually running on an empty tank and have no energy as a result?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’ve been doing this since I was in elementary school. My body is used to this.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Just because your body has adapted doesn’t mean it’s good for you.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“What does my health have to do with you anyway?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Here, you can have a bit of my lunch.” Ignoring my question, she offered some of her food out of nowhere.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’m really not hungry.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Look, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Either you open your mouth obediently right now and eat, or I open it for you and make you eat.” She said threateningly.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Stop nagging m-“


    <span style="font-weight:400">Without warning my head was pushed back and my eyes were forced open. She’d pushed my head back with her left index finger which was presently curved back in a small arc against my temple. Her right hand immediately swooped in with a piece of sushi and forcefully slipped it into my mouth through the gap that slightly opened up between my lips with her thumb. Her thumb only came to a stop when they were pressed up directly against my lips.


    <span style="font-weight:400">My first reaction was to spit out the food but I froze up when the vor of the sushi spread out in my mouth and stopped me from doing so. It was… too damn good. It was definitely some restaurant-level shit.


    <span style="font-weight:400">I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Are your parents chefs at a sushi restaurant or something?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">She grinned satisfactorily when she heard my response and shook her head confidently.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Did you buy this then?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">She again shook her head. Had I misunderstood? Were her parents just good at cooking but not chefs or something? Or was she actually some high-ssdy with a personal chef her parents hired?


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Was I wrong about your parents being chefs but they still made it? Or could it be you’re actually a rich girl and your parents hired a chef to cook for you?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Wrong and wrong.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Huh? If it’s not any of those things, what is it?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I cook for myself, duh. But really, was it that good?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">If food was good that was one thing I couldn’t lie about so I honestly admitted to it. “Yeah, I’m actually shocked. You don’t seem like the type who would cook at all.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Well, I am.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Are you sure you’re not taking credit for someone else’s work?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I’m not, I swear. Here, since you’re not fully convinced, try some of the fried rice I cooked as well.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">She scooped up some fried rice with her spoon and held it out to me. Without thinking about it too much, I opened my mouth and took all of it into my mouth.


    <span style="font-weight:400">When she pulled the spoon out of my mouth I chewed on it and couldn’t help but marvel. My evaluation was the same as the sushi. Too damn good to not be from a restaurant.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“Are you nning to go to culinary school in the future to be a chef or something?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“No, cooking can just be considered a hobby or one of the skill sets I needed to get better at.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">“I see.”


    <span style="font-weight:400">She scooped up some fried rice with the same spoon and put it in her mouth. Only now did I realize she’d been eating with the same spoon the entire time. If I wasn’t a forty-year-old at heart, I’d probably be squealing on the inside about how it was an indirect kiss, but sadly I was already a boring coolheaded adult who couldn’t be bothered with those sorts of things.


    <span style="font-weight:400">She didn’t seem to concern herself with it either, so why should I?


    <span style="font-weight:400">She stuck out her spoon to me again with some more fried rice.


    <span style="font-weight:400">“You don’t need to feed me.” I wasn’t going to be stubborn about it at this point. I raised my hand off the desk to take the spoon from her, but she didn’t let go of it.


    <span style="font-weight:400">With a smile, she said, “You already refused to be obedient and open your mouth before, since you already made that choice, I’m naturally not going to just obediently hand over the spoon to you either. Now open your mouth. If you don''t… well, you already know what happens when we do things the hard way even if I don’t say it, right?”


    <span style="font-weight:400">I let out a small sigh and did as she requested. She would have definitely forced it down my throat if I refused to eat again.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Like this, we alternated one mouthful at a time. She asionally pushed a bit of sushi in as well. Even if I was forty at heart… being spoon-fed by a high school girl was a bit… much even for my tolerance. My only saving grace was that my body was that of a high schooler.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Rosa Scarletyse. I finallymitted her name to memory after three weeks. Only because the food was good.


    <span style="font-weight:400">After the food was finished she didn’t immediately return to her desk. She put the box down to the side and crossed her right leg over her left leg that hooked onto the horizontal metal bar of the desk below her. She leaned forward a bit, nting her right elbow on her thigh to support her right cheek with the palm of her hand, and crossed her left hand under it to rest on herp close to her body. She stared out the window far into the distance looking like she was deep in thought over something.


    <span style="font-weight:400">The wind from the open window still blew her hair back and forth caressing my arm and cheek, but I didn’t bother to pay it much attention. I’d gotten used to it by now. This was just how she was, how it was between the two of us.


    <span style="font-weight:400">She’d aggressively invade my personal space no matter what I did, resisting was futile. That was the conclusion I came to. It consumed less of my energy just letting her do whatever she wanted.


    <span style="font-weight:400">It was only when lunch was over that she finally hopped off my desk and returned to her seat as it was time for the next period to begin.


    <span style="font-weight:400">Even after she left her scent lingered both on me from her hair and also from where she’d sat on my desk. With her gaze glued to me for the rest of the day in addition to her lingering scent stuck to me, I wasn’t able to fall asleep for the rest of ss as it was distracting me.


    <span style="font-weight:400">My nosy neighbor was truly a malicious and petty woman. Getting on her bad side was truly a mistake and she had proven it to me with her actions.