ships passing in the night

Chapter 4: Smoke in the Air

"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago, I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."

– Jane Austen

//

She didn't think she would be back so soon. Honestly, she didn't think she would be back at all. By "a place", he obviously meant his apartment – she should've known.

But there she was, melding into the white and gray tones of his lush, well-equipped kitchen. When she stepped into the apartment earlier on, she was greeted by soft lights, open spaces, neatly lined, minimalistic furniture and an odd sense of familiarity. It was as she remembered it, a well-thought cross between Ikea and Muji, a space as calm and down-to-earth as its owner.

Kellan was in his element, shuttling between the frying pans on his massive stove and the ingredients splayed across the kitchen island. One moment he was chopping carrots and checking on the boiled potatoes, the next he was expertly caramelizing onions. If she hadn't seen him shaking cocktails two weeks back, she would've mistook him for a professional chef. Jack of all trades, she supposed, trying not to blush as he rolled up his sleeves to reveal his rippling forearms.

A pungent, burnt smell wafted through her nostrils. Strange, she thought, his onions don't seem to be burning. She quickly turned towards her garlic, realizing most of them were nearly charred.

She nearly jumped, but Kellan deftly dove in to save the garlic –and her– in the nick of time. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, feeling the shame creep onto her cheeks.

"Well, I'm definitely not hiring you as my chef," he chuckled, transferring the garlic to another pan. "Accountant, maybe, but not my chef."

She emitted a small laugh. "I'm really sorry – I hardly cook. My hours are so long I either eat out or settle for takeout, usually takeout."

"Isn't that horribly unhealthy, not to mention expensive?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Probably, but time is money," she winked.

"Alright, businesswoman. Not going to count the dollars and cents with you again." As he laughed in response, his eyes curved to form smiles, something she found admittedly cute.

Attempting to make herself at least mildly useful, she started to drain potatoes. "I didn't think you wanted to cook, though," she said distractedly. "I was going to buy you dinner for real this time."

Kellan grinned. He leaned over and nudged her playfully. "Why?" he chortled. "Not the first date you expected?"

Jinny's eyes visibly widened. Date – it been quite a while since she had heard that word. Not to be a bumbling schoolgirl, but it had really been a while. When Whitney had pressured her into dating apps, Jinny had dodged the "date" bullets left, right and center. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes because she really was in a different country, which was a convenient truth to tell. She wasn't averse to men –obviously– or commitment –maybe– but her inability to control her schedule left her undependable. A person's exasperation at false promises was something Jinny was wary of avoiding.

Also why she had left Kellan in a hurry a week before. Maybe she'd apologize about that, possibly after a few rounds of drinks. Or maybe she wouldn't, and she also wouldn't have to pretend that she was a good, honest, upright person.