𝗔𝗱𝗲𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗗𝘂𝗯𝗼𝗶𝘀 was a total 'grump.' Majoring in pastry arts, her irritated and seemingly negative personality drove people away, like maybe she had a disease of her own. She had her own little circle of friends that she could trust, it...
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Unlocking the door to the restaurant, I led Adeline into the restaurant by her sleeve, we were hit with the fresh scent of garlic and other aromatics.
"Cal! Didn't know you were coming in today!" I hear a familiar voice shouting from the kitchen. I watched as Roman walked out from the back.
When I first met Roman, I can't even deny that I was utterly terrified of him. Despite being noticeably shorter than me, he definitely could kick my ass. He was a half German and half Czech, born in Europe and raised in the US.
"Sorry Roman, I should've given a heads-up," I said while walking over to him.
"You're always welcome here," he pulled away from our half hug, peering behind me, "Now who's your friend?"
I smiled, more than happy to feel her name roll off my tongue, "Addie." I cleared my throat, "Adeline-- this Adeline."
She nodded her head slightly, giving Roman a sheepish half-smile.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, I'm Roman," Roman extended his hand for her to shake, "Hope you're not overwhelmed by my little bitc-- apprentice here, I understand that he can be a bit much."
She huffed at comment, shaking his hand slightly, "Nice to meet you too. I haven't been scared off yet, but I'll be on the look out for signs."
Adeline took a look around the restaurant, "Where's all the customers?"
"Ah, we open at 5pm on Sundays. Only dinnertime," He responded, "What can I do for you two?"
"I was wondering if I could use your kitchen," I bit my cheek, hoping that he'd say yes.
Roman rolled his eyes at me, "Of course you can, I gave you the key for a reason, dumbass. I just want you to prep the usual for later if you're going to cook."
I nodded and thanked him.
"Alright, since you're doing my job, then I'm going to head down to the market."
Both me and Adeline waved him off, I gestured for her to follow me to the kitchen.
"I thought you wanted to eat his food?" Adeline inquired.
"I lied. Figured if we were going to eat lunch together, that I'd make it."
Dragging a chair from a table, I opened the swinging doors for the both of us.
I pointed to the chair, "Sit here. I'll start on lunch."
She did as told, I began putting on my apron and washing my hands.
Realizing that I had no clue what she liked, I asked, "So what do you want to eat? What's your favorite dish?"
She shrugged, "Don't have one."
"What do you mean you don't have one?"
"I mean I don't have one. Growing up my mom made a lot of pastries growing up."
"Makes sense, well is there anything you're craving?"
"Surprise me."
I sighed at her expected response, "Alright then, I'll make you my favorite dish."
"And that is?"
"A surprise," I responded in a sarcastic tone.
She grumbled, mocking what I said and crossing her arms and adjusting herself in her seat.
I began chopping up aromatics, garlic, shallots, ginger. Putting ingredient after ingredient into the pan, I seemed to zone out. I got into the zone, knowing this recipe like the back of my hand. Despite being in my own world, I could feel her eyes on me watching my every move. Glancing at her every so often, she followed my every move with pure curiosity. I'll admit, when I was cooking I was preforming a bit, if she was going to look at me, why not make it entertaining?
Only time I really seemed to snap out of it was when I had to ask Adeline if she was allergic to anything, "Are you allergic to peanut butter?"
She mumbled under her breath, "No, I wouldn't put my life on the line for a fucking peanut."
Gripping onto the counter in front of me, I began howling with laughter.
"What's so funny? I'm serious," she deadpanned.
This only prompted me to laugh even more. Something about the delivery of the comment made me crack up, or maybe it was the fact that she never seemed the type to crack jokes. Coming down from my high, I finished up the dish, serving out two portions for us.
"Lunch is served," I jokingly said in an English accent, "Growing up, this was my favorite dish. Spicy peanut butter noodles. My mother used to make this for me when I was sick, the ginger and spice cleared my nose right up."
She examined the plate. I watched as she reached for her fork, she twirled noodles onto the fork. Taking a bite out of it. Analyzing her face as she chewed, I watched as she swallowed. Worry began creeping up from behind me. What if she didn't like it? What if I made it wrong and everything's wrong? What if-- the questions whirling around soon disappeared as I saw her lips curl up into a half-smile. I watched in awe as she quickly ate her plate, not realizing I haven't even touched my own. Finishing up the last of her meal, she wiped her mouth with a napkin.
"Was it good?" I asked in a humorous manner.
With a satisfied smile still plastered on her face, she nodded once in response. She wasn't the only one who was satisfied. Making her smile made me feel accomplished, like I hit a major milestone today. Earlier I told myself I wanted to see all her faces, seeing this one was priceless. I wished this moment would last forever.
"It was enjoyable, I really liked the clash of flavors." she praised. Hearing this come out of her mouth practically made me soar over the damn moon.
"Glad you liked it," I chuckled, finally digging into my own portion.
This was the most expressive I've ever seen her. Sure, we spent hours talking on the floor of bedroom, but that was small talk. Nothing could ever compare to this, her raw emotion.
Wanting to hangout with her more, I inquired, "What're you doing tomorrow?"
"Classes and prepping for my upcoming competition."
"Damn so you're busy all day?" I said, slightly disheartened, but I understood.
We engaged in more conversation as I cleaned up and prepped for later. She sat on the chair, watching me and discussed with me. It was peaceful, felt like home.
I was quickly reminded that time was limited as Roman burst through the kitchen doors, "Time's up lovebirds! Staff is starting to show up and it's almost opening time!"
"We're not-- shut up," I quipped, feeling my face starting to burn up. I turned around, returning things back to their original place, not wanting anyone to see my face.
"Yeah, yeah," he waved his hand, "You got five minutes."
