Taste (H.S. / A.U.)

Chapter 31

ELOISE DUPONT

The ties of my apron were a little to tight and I attempted to adjust them, yanking on the ends to undo it once again. As I fix it for the third time, I retie it and smooth out the front. I think Jade got into my head a little too much, making me think that something was off tonight after she made my touch up my hair, wear that damn new dress, and even put on an extra spritz of perfume. I reminded her that I always inevitably smelling like whatever I am cooking before the night is over, but she insisted I would feel best if I am in my best position and that included looking and smelling best.

Apparently.

Ricky was greeting the attendees while Jade was on the phone with her brother, talking about Tucker I believe, while I mulled over my menu. I feel like I picked the wrong things, but I worked around the list I was given. One person had a onion allergy, another was gluten intolerant, someone was a vegetarian, then there was a person who couldn't have oranges. Talk about making sure that my menu went into specificity and not making the wrong thing. 

"Wearing white while cooking, that seems quite bold Miss DuPont."

My breath hitches in the back of my throat, I recognized the voice instantly, but wondered if my brain was playing some sort of a trick on me. It wasn't until I turned around and became face to face with the same one in my most recent internet searches.

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

A dimple starts to carve into his cheek while a coy smile takes over his face. He looked so simple in normal clothing, standing here in my kitchen, as if this was a natural and normal space for him to be. He shouldn't though, he should be in Germany, I remembered looking at his schedule and recently talking it over with... "Jade." I finished my thought aloud and Harry nodded.

Harry slowly entered the kitchen, passing by the obvious spots I had set up for people to use as workstations. "Turns out you can take a jet from Munich to Bangkok in a little over five and a half hours in a private jet, which I know someone who has one luckily, and I also know someone who could last minute squeeze me into a cooking class in the city." He bypassed all the other kitchenets, instead standing in front of my own, only a table laid with measuring utensils and bowls separated us now. 

I felt like my stomach was flip-flopping. "You are taking a class?" He nodded again. "My class." A nod. "Tonight?"

His smile was no longer small, instead it took over his face and I couldn't help but see just how charming he was. His eyes squinted slightly and now I realized the vegetarian in the class was him. Things were adding up but not the way I assumed them too. 

Harry placed a hand onto the table and I noticed it was sans rings, "I called the other night, Jade of course since that is the number I have." It was a slight dig at me I think, but not in a rude way, more curious with his tone, "and now I am here, learning about how to cook uhm-" Harry rotates the menu that I was only moments ago clutching, but now has fallen to the table. Probably along with my jaw. If I didn't know Harry was Harry and someone who isn't in love with me, this would be the most romantic act ever, and a sign from a movie that we are totally going to be one of those couples with a million incandescent small moments that add up to a enthralling love story. "Involtini of course."

I couldn't focus, this was going to be a problem for the rest of the night. My mind wanted to think of Harry standing right here, right now, in front of me, but it also wondered back to the shared almost in a hotel room one evening not long ago. I was flustered and my face was probably already turning a new hue of cherry tone.

Jade's heels announced her before her voice did, "oh good, he's here. Elle, you remember your friend Harry right? Well, he oh so desperately wanted to see you again, so we figured what a better time than here, in your element, where he can revel in your goodness. I mean, he loved it so much the first time right?" Jade's eyes were twinkling, but it was a sign of mischief more than anything. She knew just what she was doing, and her playful banter was not amiss to anyone in the room.