Lusting After You (GirlxIntersex)

Chapter 3

Season 1 Episode 3

Kiana POV

The first time I saw Stefano Bianchi, it was love at first sight, but only on one side. She was and still is stunning. Her beautiful grey eyes, as well as her straight grin, penetrated my soul. She constantly has her hands in her pockets and exudes a relaxed, laid-back aura. Her voice was deep and comforting to the ears. Mom didn't just introduce her as her young female friend. She presented her as if she were a coworker, and when she eventually confessed over dinner, it was as if the truth was simmering down in the pit of her stomach. How could I have forgotten that day?

Flashbacks

2 years Ago

Just next to the knife, I positioned the fork. I was getting confused with the distinction between left and right with each segment of the table I set up. My mother would rush out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her soiled apron. Her gaze was fixed on each piece of flatware and tool.

"Perfect. Everything must be flawless."

I rolled my eyes and stepped into the kitchen, which I regret since it felt like I was stepping into a battleground. The fridge door was wide open, and the island was piled high with all types of items that were essential to each and every meal.

"It's just a home-cooked meal and a friend." I remarked this as I placed a fruit into my mouth. I grabbed for another as the luscious, juicy fruit slipped down my throat, but she seized the bag and flung it in the kitchen sink.

"Don't eat out the dessert."

As I glanced at the shambles, I sneered. On the counter, flour was being sifted, white sauce was simmering with pasta on the stove, and something appeared to be baking in the oven. Although the kitchen smelled lovely, the situation was a nightmare.

"I'm not going to help you clean up afterward. Imagine your 'friend' seeing all of this."

She snarled as she proceeded to stuff all the ingredients that I assumed were unnecessary into the already open fridge.

I must go and get dressed because she is only seconds away. As she ran her hands through her hair, she murmured.

"You shouldn't be running your hands—"

"Please keep your mouth shut and assist me."

"Right now, I need your help, not your opinion." She continued as she rip the apron and tossed it my way. I catch it with one hand and place it on the island before walking towards the pot of pasta, where I take the wooden spoon and start stirring it.

"Your the best." She shouted as she ran up the stairs. I wasn't the best chef, but after a few months of living alone in college, I bought a cook book and started using it. Sure, I burn a few pots and pans, sauces, and water, but I've mastered the foods I prefer, including pasta. When I took a step back to open the oven, heat poured out, almost scorching my face off. The chicken skin sizzled and turned a gorgeous golden brown color. I insert the food thermometer and check that it was above 100, indicating that it was properly cooked. I put on oven gloves and took it out, but I quickly realized there wasn't much room.

"Fuck!" I proceeded to toss stuff into the kitchen sink, the hot pan melting through the thick material for a glove. I slapped it down the instant I saw a safe area. I quickly turned off the heat and began putting the meal in a bigger dish, which I placed in the center of the table.

Just as I was ready to return to the kitchen and plate the chicken, the doorbell rang. I started heading towards it, but I was startled when my mother flew by me and grabbed the door handle.