Chapter 8: Late Night Conversations
The New York skyline sparkled like a blanket of diamonds against the night sky, casting a magical glow over the bustling streets below. After a long day filled with laughter and culinary escapades, Y/N and Dua settled into the comfort of their hotel suite. They had just finished a late-night snack of leftover spaghetti and chocolate-covered strawberries, their bellies full but their spirits soaring.
Dua sprawled out on the plush sofa, her feet tucked beneath her. “You know,” she said, gazing thoughtfully out the window, “I’ve had a lot of fun on this tour, but cooking with you has been the highlight. It’s refreshing to be with someone who understands the art of food.”
Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. “I feel the same way. I love that we can share these moments. It’s like I’ve known you forever.”
Dua turned to her, curiosity lighting her eyes. “What made you become a chef? Was it always your dream?”
Y/N took a deep breath, her mind drifting back to her childhood. “Honestly, it started with my grandmother. She had a small restaurant, and I spent every summer there, helping her in the kitchen. The way she cooked was magical. She made everything from scratch and infused so much love into her dishes. I wanted to create that kind of magic too.”
Dua’s expression softened, captivated by Y/N’s story. “That sounds beautiful. Did she teach you any special recipes?”
“Absolutely! She had this amazing lasagna that everyone raved about. I’ve tried to recreate it, but I can never quite match her magic,” Y/N chuckled. “I guess it’s one of those things that’s hard to replicate without her presence.”
“I get that,” Dua said, leaning in closer. “Food is so much more than just ingredients. It’s about memories, emotions, and connection. It can bring people together in ways nothing else can.”
“Exactly! That’s why I love cooking for others. I want them to feel something when they eat my food,” Y/N replied, her passion evident in her voice.
Dua smiled, a thoughtful look on her face. “Speaking of connections, I’ve been meaning to ask you… what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done in the name of food?”
Y/N laughed, considering the question. “Oh man, there are a few. But I think the wildest was when I did a pop-up dinner in a treehouse in the middle of a forest. We had to haul everything up there, and I almost dropped a whole tray of risotto on the way!”
Dua gasped, “A treehouse? That’s epic! How did it go?”
“It was incredible! The food was a hit, and the setting was magical. People were eating under the stars, and we had this fire going. It felt like something out of a dream,” Y/N reminisced, her eyes shining with excitement.
Dua clapped her hands together, her enthusiasm contagious. “That sounds amazing! I need to experience something like that. Maybe we should do a pop-up dinner together sometime.”
Y/N’s heart raced at the thought. “I’d love that! It would be such an adventure.”
Dua leaned back, her gaze steady on Y/N. “So, if you could cook for anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?”
Y/N considered the question, a smile creeping onto her face. “Hmm, that’s tough. But I think I’d choose Julia Child. She was such an icon in the culinary world, and I’d love to hear her stories and insights over a meal.”
Dua’s eyes lit up. “What would you cook for her?”
“Definitely my grandmother’s lasagna! I’d want to share something that meant so much to me,” Y/N said, her voice filled with warmth.
“Now I want to try your lasagna!” Dua exclaimed, leaning forward. “You have to make it for me sometime.”
“I promise I will. Just remind me not to drop it,” Y/N joked, and they both laughed, the sound echoing through the room.
The conversation flowed easily, shifting from their favorite foods to dream travel destinations. Y/N felt a sense of comfort with Dua that she hadn’t expected. It was as if they had known each other for years, and she cherished every moment spent in Dua’s presence.
As the night wore on, Y/N noticed the way Dua’s laughter rang like music in the air, how her eyes sparkled when she spoke passionately about her work. It was captivating, and Y/N found herself drawn in deeper.
“Okay, I have a question for you,” Dua said, her tone turning playful. “If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
Y/N grinned, knowing the answer instantly. “Pasta. No question about it. I could eat pasta every day and never get tired of it.”
Dua raised an eyebrow, teasingly skeptical. “Pasta? That’s a bold choice! What about sushi? Or dessert? You’d miss those!”
“True, but I could make so many different pasta dishes! I could have lasagna one day, spaghetti the next, and even a creamy fettuccine after that. It’s versatile!” Y/N argued, her excitement evident.
Dua laughed, shaking her head. “Alright, I’ll give you that. But I’m still skeptical. I’d probably choose something like pizza. The options are endless!”
“Pizza is a solid choice,” Y/N conceded, “but I’d challenge you to a pasta-making competition any day!”
“Bring it on!” Dua challenged, her competitive spirit shining through.
Just then, the atmosphere shifted slightly as Y/N felt the tension building between them. They both paused, looking at each other, their eyes locking in a way that sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. There was something electric in the air, a lingering unspoken question hanging between them.
Dua broke the silence, her voice softening. “You know, I never thought I’d get so close to someone during this tour. But you’ve made it so special.”
Y/N felt her heart flutter at the sincerity in Dua’s voice. “I feel the same way, Dua. You’re amazing, and I’m so glad we’ve connected like this.”
Dua’s gaze didn’t waver, and Y/N could see the vulnerability in her eyes. It was a side of Dua that few got to see, and it made Y/N’s heart race. “I’m really glad you’re here with me,” Dua said, her voice barely above a whisper.
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their words hanging in the air. Y/N wanted to reach out, to close the distance between them, but she hesitated, unsure of how to navigate this new territory.
Dua shifted slightly, breaking the tension. “So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow, we have a meeting with the venue for your next concert. But maybe we can squeeze in some more cooking?” Y/N suggested, eager to keep the momentum of their connection going.
“I’d love that!” Dua exclaimed, her smile returning. “But only if we can have a late-night snack afterwards. I’ll need to fuel up after your epic cooking lessons!”
“Deal!” Y/N laughed, feeling a rush of excitement at the thought of spending more time with Dua.
As the night wore on, they eventually moved to their separate rooms, but Y/N’s mind was alive with thoughts of the evening. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something deeper was forming between them, and she was both exhilarated and terrified by the possibility.
Tossing and turning in her bed, Y/N replayed the moments of the night—Dua’s laughter, their shared stories, the charged glances. With each thought, her heart raced faster, and she realized she was falling for Dua in a way she had never expected.
The next day held promise, not just for culinary adventures, but for exploring the connection they had begun to cultivate. Y/N drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face, dreaming of what was yet to come.
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This chapter highlights their late-night conversations and the deepening connection between Y/N and Dua.
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A Recipe for Romance DUA LIPA ( Short Story)
Fiksi PenggemarY/N is a world-renowned chef with multiple restaurants and a very selective client list. At a high-profile British Vogue event, Dua Lipa, who's overseeing the evening, sneaks away with a huge plate of food to a secluded balcony. There, she meets Y/N...
