Love and I

Cooking and Crushes Pt. 1

Adeline

   When I got the invitation to join America's Next Chef, a world-renowed cooking show, I was ecstatic. I'd be competing with amazing chefs that had passed the selection trials, which sent a nervous buzz through my body. The show meant I could leave my little town and travel across California to a place that was studded with blinding lights, teeming with fanciful dreams and new people, and elegant buildings that brushed the skies. Of course, the first thing I did was run downstairs to my parents, my biggest cheerleaders, and tell them the news. While I didn't enjoy their overprotectiveness, they had always been there for me. I then grabbed my phone to text my best friend. Chun-Yi, who had been subject to my cooking creations for many, many, years on end, was beyond happy for me. Mom was ecstatic as well, though our goodbye was bittersweet. After a mountain of paperwork, contracts, and pens that had run out of ink, I was on my was to the city of angels.

"Min-Xiu! Will miss you much!" My mom exclaimed, dabbing away a stray tear.
   "A new opportunity," my dad declared roughly from the sidelines. He patted me on the shoulder affectionately. "Los Angles home of all the big people."
Mom's eyes twinkled mischievously, and she tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "Maybe you bring boy back home with you."
   "Mama-" My dad cleared his throat behind me, shuffling his feet awkwardly.
   "Min-Xiu not old enough yet." I looked at Dad in disagreement, eyebrows raised. "I will help with luggage," my dad finished quickly. He hoisted my two small suitcases into the luggage compartment of the waiting bus. One housed my essentials, clothing, hygiene products, good-luck trinkets from home, and things like that. The other suitcase contained nothing but cookbooks, and it weighed a thousand pounds. But it carried my most prized possessions, my cookbooks, journals, and notes from over the years, and I would gladly carry it all around the city if I had to.

   As I made my way towards the back of the coach bus, I caught the eye of a girl with brown hair. It was swept up into a fancy, elaborate hairdo that must have taken ages. Butterfly pins were everywhere, and curled copper ringlets framed he face. I waved hello and began to sit down next to her, when she suddenly glared at me and moved her backpack to where I'd been about to sit. Rude. I hurriedly looked for another open seat as the bus began moving, and slid into a seat next to a guy on his phone.

   He had dark, coffee hair, warm tea-brown skin, and hazelnut eyes. He'd made an effort to look nice, with polished glasses, a cream dress shirt and ironed navy pants. Still, though, he wore scuffed white converse.
   "Hey," I said tentatively, wondering if I should make conversation. It hit me then that I wasn't going to have to adhere to my parent's rules, being separated from them for two weeks and all. "Thanks for letting me sit here. Which, by the way, the girl with the hair over there didn't let me do," I continued, still reveling over my discovery. The person I was sitting next to put down his phone, a hint of a smile playing across his lips.
   "No way, she kicked you out too? Hairdo put a bag where I was going to sit. Luckily I found an empty seat in time." We both snickered quietly, sneaking glances at the brown-haired girl. "I think Hairdo is scoping out the competition. I saw her eyeing me when I got on the bus. Oh, and my name's Amir, by the way." He held out his hand for me to shake, and I took it.
   "I'm Min-Xiu. Call me Adeline."
   "Cool names, Adeline," Amir said, shaking my hand. "It's great to meet you."

   Throughout the whole bus ride, Amir and I had a little on-and-off conversation.
   "You were the last person we needed to pick up, and now we're headed to the film site," he'd told me, handing over a sheet of paper. "The paper tells you the schedule for today. My guess is that there's going to be filming on the bus, I think, to introduce the contestants. Us. Stuff like that." Amir had also given me a list of the people in the show, but I handed it back. Unfortunately, for now at least, they were all just names on a paper to me. As Amir and I talked, I got to know him a little bit better. His great-grandparents had come to America from Saudi Arabia. Amir's favorite color was yellow. And he had a huge sweet tooth, which was adorable.

   The hours seemed to stretch on, but when I checked my watch it'd barely been forty minutes. I really wasn't going to make it five hours.
   "I'm going to take a nap to pass time," I said, stretching my arms in the cramped space between the bus seats. I was restless and grumpy from boredom."Wake me up if a camera crew suddenly decided that thirty people crammed on a bus for five hours is the content that the audience wants," I continued, feeling cheeky. At that, Amir had laughed again and told me that I could count on him. Dappled sun streamed through the bus windows, turning the ends of Amir's hair gold, and I suddenly noticed that he was very attractive. Thank the lucky stars; it was the best coincidence meeting him. At the very least, I wouldn't be alone in this cooking show. Turning away from Amir, I closed my eyes to get some rest.

   I woke to Amir gently poking my skull, a cheeky grin illuminating his face.
   "Adeline, wake up," he hissed urgently. Then, more cheerfully, he added, "A camera crew's just outside. I was right, they're going to film us on the bus!"
   "So they are," I mumbled groggily, battling the last traces of sleep. With a start, I realized that at some point I'd fallen asleep with my head resting on Amir's shoulder. When I pulled away blushing, Amir said nothing. He only gazed out the windows at the camera crew, phone in hand. Gosh, I hope I didn't come off as weird or anything. As my heart nervously tittered, I smoothed out the folds from the print schedule Amir had given me, reading it over once more.

12:00 - Arrive on set. Lunch.
12:30 - Unpack at housing.
1:00 to 6:00 - Filming.
6:00 - Dinner.
6:30 - Leisure.
8:00 - Lights out.

"Hey, the camera people are getting on the bus," Amir whispered, nudging me gently. Sure enough, a dozen people filed into the crammed bus waving around fancy, expensive equipment. The bus had stopped, letting the people from the second bus, the crew, into ours.
   "My name is Morgan," a gruff man in the front barked. He was short and squat, with a hint of a beard and cloudy eyes. His yellow-brown hair had streaks of white, and was pulled into a tiny ponytail. I didn't know whether to like him or be wary of him. He held a clipboard, and furiously scribbled notes as he looked around at us. His eyes settled on Hairdo -- Amir was growing on me -- and quickly wrote something else down. "We will be arriving in about three and a half hours now." At that, everyone let out a collective groan. Ignoring us, Morgan continued. "We have cameras installed in the bus, as some of you may have noticed, just in case anything of interest happens on the ride. We will stop for one break in one hour, and shoots will be happening periodically throughout the ride. Like now, for example." Morgan prattled off a list of things we needed to do as the crew would go around filming us. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Amir sneak a glance at me, and I deliberately let out a long yawn. Amir chuckled silently, taking care not to attract unwanted attention, and his face bloomed with happiness. I'd never really been one to make people smile, much less laugh, and I wasn't all that funny to begin with. But making someone laugh, watching Amir laugh just because of me made this miserable bus ride just that much better.

   An hour later, after tedious filming and forced smiling, Morgan let us out to stretch and break. While most people walked over to a nearby fast food restaurant to order a light meal, Amir and I walked around the parking lot. It was just the two of us, chatting and walking around. I'd brought out my egg-fried rice and chicken, and Amir had taken one look at it and insisted we swap food. I kept half of my rice, and Amir gleefully snatched up the remaining portion. I accepted Amir's offering of pesto pasta and tomatoes, and it turned out that it was his grandfather's recipie.
   "Good God, this is amazing. Did you make the rice?"
I chewed on Amir's pasta, shaking my head. "My mom did. And your pasta's great, by the way."
   "Thanks!" Amir ate the rice, and the beginnings of his smile were starting to show. He was smiling, and I happily savored the memory. "If your cooking is anything like your mom's, then I'll be in for some competition."
   "If I even make it through the first round, " I replied, taking a huge bite of pesto pasta.
Amir lifted the end of his spoon, his hazelnut eyes locking with mine. "You will. And when that happens, may the best chef win."

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First chapter is uppp! Hope u enjoyed :D