Nascent

Chapter Fifteen

The aroma of fresh vegetables filled the air as you meticulously sliced and diced them on the cutting board. The rhythmic sound of the knife hitting the wooden surface accompanied the melody playing softly in the background. Just as you were lost in the therapeutic act of preparing a salad, your phone chimed with a familiar ringtone.

You wiped your hands on a kitchen towel and picked up your phone, activating the speaker. "Hey, Jimin! What's up?" you greeted, the crisp sound of the veggies being cut still audible in the background.

"Hey, neighbour," Jimin's voice chimed through the phone. "What are you up to?"

"Just chopping some veggies, what about you?" you replied, the playfulness evident in your voice.

"Of course, you are," Jimin teased, a playful eye roll audible. "What's for dinner today, the usual salad?"

You chuckled, "What's wrong with salads? They're healthy."

Jimin countered, "And it's the only thing you know how to make, besides fries."

You feigned offence, "Excuse me, I can reheat nuggets and burgers just fine, thank you very much."

Jimin laughed, "Sure, sure. But hey, I'm actually calling because I signed up for a cooking class. Wanna join me?"

"Hmm, I don't have the best experience in that sort of environment," you hesitated.

"Don't worry, I'll be there for you," he said with a mischievous tone.

"Uh-huh, fine. When's the class?" you asked, giving in.

"At 2, and it's near the building. Just meet me outside," Jimin instructed.

"Okay, even though I don't need it, I'll escort you to the cooking class. You could use some lessons," you teased.

Jimin smirked, "Don't worry, I've got other skills that'll make you overlook those."

As he hung up, you finished preparing the salad, enjoying the crisp crunch of fresh veggies. After a quick meal, you changed into a cute croquette off white vest, a black midi skirt some white sneakers and your iconic sunglasses, channelling your inner Bella Hadid.

Waiting outside you caught sight of Jimin, dressed in a white tennis sweater that  matched his sleek black trousers. Your eyes met, and a playful smile spread across his face. "Are you sure we're not connected spiritually or telepathic?" he teased, gesturing to your matching choice of colour palettes.

You chuckled, "Well, one thing we didn't foresee in our shared vision is how white and cooking don't blend together."

Jimin raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. I'll make sure our clothes stay clean until after the class."

You shot him a skeptical look, "Only until after?"Jimin grinned, "Well, who knows, maybe you're a clumsy eater and will drop some food on your clothes."

You playfully rolled your eyes, "Or maybe you could be."

He leaned in, a hint of flirtation in his voice, "Oh, we'll see about that."

As you arrived at the cooking class, the atmosphere was vibrant. Long stations with cutlery, ingredients like flour and veggies, measuring cups, and wooden stools created an inviting space. Low-hung chandeliers added a touch of elegance.

The instructor, donned in a navy blue cooking uniform with neatly tucked hair with some purple strands escaping under a hat, introduced herself and the class. She gave off an aura of a serious but gentle mentor.