Then, as if something had clicked, she turned back to remind me, "Mr. Pettyfer wants you to cook for him later. He said he's craving beef stew; make sure the beef is tender."
"Got it."
With a satisfied nod, she left.
I shut the door and returned to my room, starting to pack up my things.
Agreeing to cook was one thing; whether I would actually pull it off was another story altogether.
When Oliver walked in, I was busy packing my bags.
"The court doesn't open until tomorrow. You can put on your show then," Oliver teased, glancing at my phone on the table, reaching for it as if to unlock it.
"Did you change your passcode?"
I had switched it from his birthday to mine, and now he couldn't get in.
"Yep."
He chuckled dismissively, thinking I was just being petty, and turned to head to the kitchen.
Then, his voice came from the kitchen. "Scarlett, didn't I ask Lillian to tell you to make beef stew?
"I'm starving. If you're not cooking, what do you expect me to do?"
I didn't even look up. "Order takeout!"
His frustration was palpable. "Scarlett! You know I can't eat that junk from outside! I was trying to have a decent conversation, but you keep this up! Who are you trying to annoy?"