Uni(que)-Love

Chapter 1

'I'd like to have peas and mashed potatoes, please - erh, is there milk in it?'

The woman behind the counter twisted her eyes annoyed. Apparently, Bekka wasn't the first, who asked for the ingredients.

'The mashed potato is gluten- and lactose-free. Just potatoes.'

'Then the mashed potatoes, too, please.'

'Chicken pastry?'

'No, thanks.'

Bekka picked up her plate, paid for her food and entered the dining area of the canteen with her tray. Twenty tables, each with five chairs, stood neatly lined up in the room, surrounded by excited students. Bekka covered the edge of the grey plastic tray a little firmer.

'Let's go', she muttered, making her way between the tables.

'Is this seat taken?' and 'Can I sit here?' she asked dozens of times, but she wasn't lucky that day. All the chairs were occupied.

Bekka was already eating on the floor in spirit until - 'Eh, do you want to sit here?'

Bekka turned around to see where the voice had come from. Her gaze fell on a young man. His eyes were hazelnut brown, as was his hair, his skin was slightly tanned, and his face was full of small freckles. But best of all: The chair in front of him was free!

'Thank you very much! Thank you!' said Bekka, perhaps a little too enthusiastic, banging her tray on the table before someone else could sit there.

'I thought I had to eat on the floor!'

The man laughed. Two small dimples appeared on his cheeks and his freckles danced like stars in the night sky.

'Vegan?' he asked, looking at Bekka's plate.

'No, no, vegetarian.'

He nodded in understanding.

'You like meat, right?'

'Yes, very much. Chicken pastry is one of my favourite dishes. My mother often served it when I came home from the school.'

Bekka smiled, it was nice to talk to an open-hearted person. He noticed her smile and blushed. Had he said too much?

'Does she cook frequently?'

The heat eased from his face. He was happy for the distraction.

'Yes, but she does bake more often.'

'Really? That sounds great.'

'My parents own a bakery. We had fresh bread every day at home.'

He smiled. Silently, they began to eat.

'Does it taste good?'

Bekka poked around in the yellow porridge, which had been sold to her as a mashed potato. 'Not really. What's the pastry like?'

'Even worse than it looks.'

They continued eating.

'Well, at least there's decent food tonight.'

Bekka looked at her counterpart inquiringly. 'Why that?'

'I work in a pizzeria and there's always something left after my shift,' he said complacently.

Bekka nodded enviously. 'Wow, that's cool. Which pizzeria?'

'Salisbury Arms' he answered 'Tenison Road. Have you been there before?'

Bekka shook her head. 'Nope, but sounds good. I work as a babysitter.'

The man took a sip of water from the glass in front of him. 'And what are you studying? Baby-ology?'

They laughed. 'Not quite. I'm studying nutrition science.' He nodded appreciatively. 'And you? Pizza-ology?'

'Don't underestimate doing pizza toppings.'

Bekka raised her hands defensively.

'I'm studying law. Rights, you know.'

Bekka jumped inwardly. Her parents ran a law firm, and the family was almost broken when she decided to study nutrition science at Cambridge.

'Will you become a lawyer for accused tomato sauce?'

'Yes, and for mistreated dough,' he replied. He ate another bite of his chicken pastry, but then, disgusted, put his fork away. 'I can't eat that. That's too disgusting. I'd rather wait until tonight, then I'll get a free salami pizza with extra cheese.'

Bekka looked at him with envy. 'My dinner will probably be fried noodles from the snack again.'

The dark-haired man pulled the air sharply and began to speak with a monotonous news reporter voice: 'Nutritionist eats saturated fats and carbohydrates in the form of fried noodles. 5000 calories, no nutrients.'

Bekka couldn't help but laugh. 'Now I'm not a nutritionist. Now I can eat whatever I want.'

Bekka's gaze happened to pass a clock hanging on the wall. She was terrified. If she wanted to catch the bus, she had to hurry up.

'Sorry, but I've got go.' Bekka jumped up from her chair. 'I've got to babysit.'

She was almost gone, but he held her back.

'Wait, what's your name?'

'Bekka' she replied, then she had left the canteen.