Sorry, I'm the Final Boss Now novel Chapter 45

“Are you hungry?” George pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger, his voice clear and pleasant.

Marguerite paused, an awkward smile spreading across her face. “Oh! That’s not what I meant. I was just saying.”

“What would you like to eat?”

“Spicy cheese spaghetti.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them. She scratched her head, her fair-skinned hand a stark contrast against her dark hair. “Well… I had an early dinner with Theobald around five, so I am a little hungry now.”

“Grrrrumble—”

Her stomach chose that exact moment to sing its own song.

Marguerite’s face turned beet red. “I mean, I’m eighteen! I’m still a growing girl,” she stammered, trying to save face. “It’s normal to get hungry quickly, right?” During her senior year, she’d eaten five or six meals a day; all that brainpower burned a lot of calories.

“Yes, perfectly normal. I’m hungry too. Now that you mention it, I forgot I skipped dinner for a meeting.”

George stood up. Under the grand chandelier, his tall, lean shadow fell over her.

Marguerite’s eyes curved into crescents as she looked up at him. “Well then, you should be thanking me!”

George turned his head, his deep gaze fixed on her delicate face, his eyes swimming with adoration. “Thank you,” he said with a warm smile, the small, tea-colored mole by his nose looking exceptionally charming under the light.

Thank you for giving me this chance to be so close to you. This is something I never even dared to dream of.

Marguerite had only been joking, but when George actually thanked her, she felt a surge of pride. “Anytime! What do you want to eat? I’ll just have a little of whatever you’re having. I’m not picky.”

A flicker of light danced in George’s dark eyes. “Actually, I was just thinking I’m in the mood for some spicy spaghetti myself.”

Marguerite was delighted that her old rival shared her taste in food. “Great! You can go make it, then.”

George’s gaze remained glued to her face, a beautiful curve gracing his lips. “As you wish, my lady.”

George’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He lowered his gaze, pushed a glass of water toward her, and said with a chuckle, “Drink some water.”

Marguerite gulped down the entire glass. She hadn’t seen when he’d poured it, but the temperature was perfect—not too cold, not too hot.

“How can you eat something this spicy and not even break a sweat?” she asked, genuinely impressed. George wasn't just nibbling; he was eating more than she was. Yet he maintained his elegant and refined demeanor, the mole by his nose seeming to dance in the light. His million-dollar watch caught the light, making it look as though he were enjoying a gourmet Western meal.

George chewed his noodles slowly and smiled gently. “I used to eat it a lot. I’m used to it.” He clearly didn’t want to dwell on the topic and changed it seamlessly. “So, are you planning to go back to school, or…?”

“I’m planning on it,” Marguerite answered honestly. “I’m going to repeat my senior year and try for Crestview Academy again.”

Ding, dong…

Her phone, sitting on the table, buzzed several times. She picked it up with her fair fingers. It was a message from Cedric.

[These are some of the more troublesome kids at Pinecrest High. I took pictures of all of them.]