𝙒𝙤𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙛 (𝙂𝙭𝙂)

10. Zoya

GANGA'S POV

 
"You keep massaging that chicken, and someone is trying to steal your woman," Lucas taunted.
 
I turned towards him. It's been four days since he was behind me, trying to fuel my jealousy.
 
"What's wrong with you?" I asked, genuinely curious.
 
"I am trying to look out for my bestie, and you don't want it?" He asked as I nodded, making him scoff.
 
"Ahh, great, it's amazing because if you turn your head 180°, you will see your crush being someone else's crush." He said, and I turned in the direction.
 
"Chef, you are so cool," Zoya said, peeking at the oil.
 
"Zoya, I'm frying a fucking chicken; what is cool about this?" Chef asked as she giggled.
 
"It's just that everything you do is so cool," she said, looking at Chef as I gagged.
 
"She just got out of a relationship with her ex-girlfriend, and her type is someone who is tall, dark, and can cook," Lucas said, vigorously mixing the batter.
 
"Did you stalk her?" I asked, looking at him with a glare.
 
"Maybe, maybe not; why do you care?"
 
"I'm going to tell her to private her account."
 
"She actually has a crush on the head chef," he said as I nodded.
 
"Cool"
 
"You don't care?"
 
"I just don't trust your words," I said, stuffing my chicken.
 
"I made a fake account and asked her to tell me about her crush on the new R.E.M. contour," he said as I choked.
 
"The hell?"
 
"What?"
 
"You are crazy." 
 
"Aye, that's what my sugar daddy said." 
 
I shook my head as I looked at the two people in front of me.
 
I sighed, 
 
Its ok, Ganga, we don't get jealous!

 
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Okay, I'm jealous.
 
It's not my fault though; we were working on making fresh pasta, and I can literally see her gorgeous fingers working their magic, stretching the dough.
 
The long fingers are making it hard for me to even concentrate on my bruschetta. 
 
"Her hands are so skilled." 
 
I snapped my head in that direction and saw Zoya staring at my woman's hand.
 
"She is eye-fucking her," Lucas whispered in my ear as I felt the fire almost reach my brain.
 
I didn't waste a second before I quickly finished the bruschetta. I took the plate as I cleared my throat.
 
"BEHIND!"
 
She flinched at the sudden shout as she turned towards me.
 
"I almost broke the pasta!" She said that as she took a deep breath, I gave her a fake smile as I showed her the plate.
 
"Put it in the window; why bring it here?" She asked as I rolled my eyes.
 
"Listen, don't you think it's unfair?" I asked, showing her puppy eyes as she gulped.
 
"Putting it on the window?" She asked as I groaned.
 
"Listen, I know sometimes we get hungry; you can take home the left-overs, but not this one," she said as my eyes lit up.
 
"I can?" I gleamed as she nodded.
 
"Thanks youuu," I sang as I walked to put it on the window. I was happily about to walk back when I saw Zoya stare at my woman's hand.
 
Wait, I forgot to warn her.
 
I walked back towards her as I cleared my throat.
 
"What?" She asked, not glancing at me.
 
"Can you do one tiny thing for me, pleaseee?" I asked, fluttering my eyes as she narrowed hers.
 
"Is it about that Bruschetta? then no," she said as I took a deep breath, trying to keep a smile on my face.
 
"No, it's not about the bruschetta!" I said it calmly.
 
"Then?"
 
"Well, you know," I started, dragging my eyes down to her hands.
 
"Is it about the pasta?" She asked as I stomped on the ground for a minute before I looked at her with a sad face.
 
"Why are you thinking about food?" I whined.
 
"It's about your hands!" I said as she frowned.
 
"Hands?" She said, looking at hers as if she had never seen them, but then I saw a tiny smile break.
 
"Get your mind out of the gutter!" She scolded me as I looked at her wide-eyed.
 
"HEY!'
 
"What?"
 
"Well, look, I am still in the game, right?" I asked as she narrowed her eyes.
 
"Game?" I nodded as she made an "o" face.
 
"Ohhh." I smiled wide as I looked at her with hopeful eyes.
 
"Are you still going?" She asked as my smile dropped.
 
"What do you mean?" I asked in a high-pitched voice, and she turned, stretching the pasta more.
 
"Well, you are still trying to impress me?" she asked as I nodded my head vigorously.
 
"With this momentum, I doubt if you will succeed," she said as my smile dropped, my smile turning upside down as I looked at her with sad eyes.
 
"I'm trying," I mumbled, looking down as she chuckled, making me snap my head in her direction.
 
"Well, what does that have to do with my hands?" She asked, running the pasta through the machine.
 
"You know, Zoya?" I asked as she shook her head, making forwn.
 
"Obviously I do," she said, looking at the pastries and making sure they were coming properly.
 
"Well, she is literally eye-fucking you," I whispered. She snapped her head at me, looking at me with wide eyes, which made me giggle.
 
It's cute when her dead eyes randomly show emotions.
 
"She is what?"
 
"Eye-fucking you," I said, as her eyes scanned me up and down.
 
"Woah, I should get a restraining order," she said as I nodded.
 
"I'm joking," 
 
"Whyy," I whined.
 
She should get one; it would be good to keep creeps far away.
 
"It looks like it's making someone jealous," she said, holding back laughter, which I wanted to hear.
 
"Yeah, and that someone is me," I said cheekily.
 
"Quite shameless, aren't you?"
 
"I can be more," I said in a flirty manner as she choked.
 
"Listen, I still have a chance to impress you, right?" I ask seriously.
 
"Hmm, maybe,"
 
"So, let's say hypothetically, I end up impressing you." 
 
"Waah"
 
"Then I can't let anyone just eye-fuck my future girlfriend, can I?" 
 
She froze, looking as if someone had wiped the colour of her face.
 
"Girlfriend?" She shuddered.
 
"Ops, sorry, I mean future wife!" I said, hitting the back of my head.
 
I'm quite forgetful.
 
"fu-future wife?" She stutters, looking at me as if I said the most shocking thing in the world.
 
She grabbed some of the pasta, put it in a bowl, and pushed it towards me.
 
"Chicken Alfredo, for two," she said, turning back to work.
 
"So will you roll down the sleeves?" I asked as she turned her head at me, her deadpan eyes glaring.
 
"Chicken Alfredo, for two," she ordered as I gulped.
 
"Okiee," I said, running for the pasta.