Food My Muse Novels & Stories

She reaches over the table to wipe off the messy mascara. "This is Christian Hayes. He just transferred here today. He's a certified genius I suppose." I shrugged picking at my salad. I honestly should start bringing my own food seeing as the new cooks in this school suck at making a simple salad. The taste was rancid and had brought on an imagery of eating a fungal toenail. Yeah, that had me pushing the plate away from me swiftly. "The question wasn't directed for you to answer, but okay." Meredith stabbed at her Mac and cheese before bringing the fork to her red painted lips that part in welcoming. I rolled my eyes, knowing that it would be useless to answer her.

Besides, Grace Larsen was tantamount to becoming her husband’s bodyguard now. Judy said, “We’re finally here. I’m so hungry. I heard that there are many snacks in Michigan and most of them were featured on the show, ‘The Tip of American’s Tongue’. Cousin, you have to show me around to have some good food.” However, Phoebe shook her head. “Forget it now. If you really want to eat, you can order some takeaways. I just want to eat dishes cooked by Rockefeller brat now… Rockefeller brat, can you do it? Ever since I’ve eaten the food that you’ve cooked, my stomach is in love with it. Anything else I eat feels tasteless.”

I laugh and say, "Ha-ha Let's go. We have the get-together at Ava's and we have a party to attend tomorrow and we need our beauty sleep before the Dinner and Gala." We open the door and sit inside. While she is busy starting the car engine, I switch on my bluetooth and connect it to the speaker and start playing Taylor Swift's latest album. We drive away, singing loudly and jamming to the song. I roll down the window, allowing the cold wind to enter. I look outside, admiring the beauty of my neighbourhood and I repeat to myself that everything I achieved is definitely due to the hard work I put in. I couldn't help but think to myself,

The inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee spread out through the open door, mixing with the faint scent of pastries. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open, a small bell chiming above the door. The interior was warm and cozy, with simple wooden tables and shelves lined with books and trinkets. A soft murmur of conversations filled the air, accompanied by the gentle clinking of cups and saucers. “Hi, welcome to Muse & Mugs!” a cheerful barista called from behind the counter. Her name tag read “Lila.” “What can I get for you?”

Such a joke was simply too costly! I focused on the breakfast that others had already consumed except I. Looking at it, It was a highly protein-rich meal. The meal consisted of a grilled steak accompanied by scrambled eggs. I slowly sniffed my nostrils, exhaling the scent of food into my lungs. My mood changes the moment I remember something unpleasant. This is the first time I'll be eating something like this. So rich in protein and healthy. I usually consume leftover food from the crescent moon pack. As a slave omega in the crescent moon pack, I always eat the leftover food, and sometimes got forced to eat any spoiled food in other for it not to be wasted.

I guess it was prepared by the staff of the resort before our arrival. “What was what?” Killian paused, looking at me over his shoulder. Every trace of smile had vanished, replaced with a feral, desired-filled gaze. “You don’t have the right to speak on my behalf.” I was putting up a font. One that wouldn’t give away the fact I was down-to-earth for this man. “Oh, Little muse, I do.” The nickname caught me off-guard. Killian wasn’t one to give nicknames, so what the hell changed?

I asked and she nodded as footsteps sounded, her gaze moving over to an approaching Destiny. "I thought you were lost," Mesi announced as I began falling into my sea of thoughts. "I couldn't find my charger," Destiny explained moving over to us. "What are we eating?" "Jamaican food," Mesi voiced and she nodded moving over to the refrigerator a few steps away. "You still upset?" Mesi asked as my mind continued to run wild. "I was never upset," She replied placing the jug of juice on the counter before closing the refrigerator door. . . . . . . .

she's nodding along with a bright, enthusiastic smile, looking healthier than she did three days ago. "I'm so emotional; I haven't heard it in years," Mom shrieks with excitement. Sienna stands up, smoothing out her dress. She looks like a goddamn vision of domestic perfection as she finishes arranging a spread on the table. It’s a massive plate of Wagyu bresaola and poached eggs over a bed of sautéed greens,the exact high-protein, exclusive shit I eat to keep my muscle mass when I’m training. There’s a whole elaborate food art design made with the garnishes. It looks a little too much.

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just my muse tonight.” Her laughter softens into a smile as she takes her first bite. The flavors explode in her mouth—sharp, tangy, smooth. “Mmm,” she murmurs, “I can see why you chose this. It’s… perfect.” Adrian doesn’t eat right away. Instead, he watches her with a quiet reverence, stealing glances between bites of his own plate. Her laughter, the way her eyes close briefly when savoring the food—it’s like watching someone discover happiness for the first time after years of grief.

That night, I bled out and died. Haunted by the agony of my previous life, I pushed down the fury and put on a grin. "Janet, go ahead and cook your signature dish! That'll up your chances to be the rich dude's wife." Our mother, Fiona Walker, seemed unsure. "I've heard that Indoria folks don't do beef. Christina, you're the brainy one in the family, what's your take?" Before I could answer, Janet shot me a death glare. "Indoria's a beef-exporting powerhouse! There's no way they don't eat it. I saw a bunch of cows at the rich guy's place. They're definitely for chowing down! Don't bother Christina with that stuff. Remember, she's my rival now."