A/N: Dammit I think I went a little overboard with the flirting and description so I ended up writing only one scene of the challenge and hitting 3k words despite so. Here, we witness Cuppie's sheer addiction to banter; the clash of fire and ice, red and blue. Curseeeeesssss.
Happy belated birthday to Leroy. I've decided that I willlll do the AU, but it will not be next week because I technically am not done with what was planned for chapter 46 so I will be finishing that first before writing the AU hehe.
See you next week!
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[Leroy]
He looked different up there. Under the spotlight. Looking over the rest of the room with his arms crossed and a smile on his face; the kind that he reserved for the cameras and the kind I'd grown up watching on TV before I eventually stopped watching altogether. Seeing it now didn't make much of a difference from seeing it back then. Just a little less far, and a little less resentful than I remembered.
I'd lost the feeling somewhere along the way; dropped after shaving off thoughts that weighed—thoughts about others—to focus first on thoughts about myself. It surprised me how easy I was finding this, keeping my shit in check and learning to wait for a full story before letting the bad emotions do the thinking first.
Du Bellay had done a double take herself, nearly missing her station in front of mine with her attention solely on the judging panel up front. They stood behind a station that had appeared out of thin air, quite likely set up just before we'd re-entered the gallery room for a clever surprise. Assuming Siegfried's only job was to demonstrate a specific recipe and then deliver the challenge of recreating it.
Still, that sort of thing wasn't going to explain the absence of a little snow.
He wasn't even in the room. You'd feel it, if he was; it's usually a little colder. Quieter. Like when you're watching white flakes fall outside the window on a winter night.
All that we had in here was a buzz. The kind you'd hear in the kitchen form the appliances and the lights. It's hot sometimes. And the sound can be unbearable for those who were preferred the silence of a library. On my countertop was a wooden crate. I tried lifting it a little but couldn't tell what was in there. In fact, the box felt so light that I caught myself thinking: could be empty.
Somewhere behind me, I was hearing a bunch of complaints about crates—only they were the complete opposite of mine and actually felt like they contained something. I figured it was half people being uptight and half them actually feeling tired out by the morning shoot and wait times before the challenge. They'd removed the only clock in the room but it felt pretty much like the end of the day.
"Good evening, chefs!" Pao opened at an energy that rivaled his usual and while I wasn't the kind to understand or appreciate personalities in entertainment, I respected the guy for keeping up. "Ay, why is there so much talking? What's so exciting about having Chef Siegfried Cox as today's special guest, uh? Chef Saito, you look happy. Tell me why."
"He's a master of fine-dining in the industry... I've watched his shows since I was a teenager and dined in one of his restaurants, but only once. It's very difficult to get a reservation. He has inspired chefs across the world—an icon."
Scripted; and delivered just short of having the paper in front of him. And of course, they'd given the line to an Asian chef. He sounded nervous enough though, which gave the impression of genuine, jittery excitement to match his words.
YOU ARE READING
Wax
Romance[Sequel to Vanilla] Seven years later, childhood sweethearts Vanilla Julian White and Leroy Cox reunite in the City of London for an unlikely reason. The latter-once a burning flame unfazed by the wind-had, since a couple of years ago, left the heat...
