Accepted under the mentorship of your idol and the world's hottest chef Gordon Ramsay, you must prove your skill and determination through competing in Hell's Kitchen- A month long cooking contest versus fifteen other fierce contestants and difficul...
My mind goes blank as I stare at Kalyani dumbly. The chatter of the other chefs fills my head, confusing my thought process.
"Uhm, I had..." my brain struggles to remember the brilliant excuse Gordon had given me. Unfortunately, I've never been the best liar.
Her expression gets more dubious as I grasp for the words to say.
"A nightmare!" the memory of what he'd said finally dredges up from the depths of my hazy and sex-clouded mind.
"What, so you sleepwalked into the kitchen after getting dressed up?" she says, crossing her arms in disbelief.
Anger wells in my chest. Sure, it is suspicious for me to be out here dressed like I am, but her tone rubs me all the wrong ways. It was only last night that I'd had a nightmare, it is perfectly reasonable that I'd have trouble sleeping again.
"I didn't sleepwalk," animosity seeps into my words. "I had a nightmare and went to tell Ramsay about it. You can ask Red, I did the same yesterday morning. The anniversary of my parent's death has only just passed. When I woke up, I tossed on the first things I grabbed from my drawer and went to tell him what happened."
"Well pardon me for asking, but how could Ramsay help you with this? It's not like he's going to be asking you to cook today," she says, unfurling her arms but still looking at me incredulously.
Uh oh, what she's saying is true. How could Ramsay help me if today is already a relaxation day?
Kalyani is fixing me with an intense stare that dampens the sound of the other chef's chatter as I struggle to think of an adequate response, clutching my bundle of clothing to my chest.
"Obviously," a familiar voice sounds from the back of the room, "she wants to be sure that he knows her mental state in case she has a repeat of the night she fainted. For her own health, it's best that he knows."
Abel emerges from the men's dorm room as he says this and makes his way over to my side.
I nod, agreeing with Abel's words. I take the time to notice that he's wearing a slim fitting light blue collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark blue faded jeans. Abel's sure tone fills me with confidence, and his presence helps make Kalyani less aggressive.
Kalyani's gaze flicks from my eyes to Abel's, then back to me. Everyone else has stopped chatting at this point, listening in on the conversation.
"Well, you were gone for an awfully long time. Two hours at least." Her earlier boldness recoils as Abel tilts his head, his eyes boring into her.
"Chef said that since I was up he'd help to distract me by teaching me a few cooking techniques. Which worked, by the way. I had felt almost entirely better until you've brought everything back to the surface," I say, trying to force Kalyani to back down.
She looks like she's about to say something else, but Abel crosses his arms. He's not exactly muscular, but the muscles he does have stand out boldly, highlighted by the rolled-up sleeves. She closes her mouth again.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset. I just..." she looks around the room at everyone watching her, then sighs.
"Nevermind, it's nothing," she submits, then turns and walks into the women's dorm.
Abel uncrosses his arms and turns to look at me. As soon as I meet his eyes, I realize how perfectly they match the light blue fabric of his shirt. The other chefs start up a new conversation after the door to the women's dorm closes.
"I'm sorry she put you into that headspace again. She wasn't there to experience your grief firsthand, so she can't begin to understand the depth of your sadness," he apologizes quietly, keeping our conversation from the nosy other chefs.
"It's alright, Abel. Thank you for helping me with her." I bundle my clothes under one arm, then reach out and touch his forearm. He doesn't draw away like he had when Taylor had touched him. "I haven't showered yet today, but when I get out of the shower, can we talk somewhere private?"
"Of course. We can talk in the green screen room where they film interviews. No one goes in there. I'll meet you there in thirty minutes?"
I might have imagined it, but Abel seems to appreciate my outfit. He's polite enough to not stare, but between feeling the wetness in my panties and his intense gaze, I can't stop my cheeks from reddening.
"Perfect," I respond as his lips form the shadow of a smile.
"See you soon," he turns towards the kitchen.
I head into the bathroom, lay out my clothes, then grab a fluffy towel.
I blush as I take off my clothes and feel the wetness left behind. Gordon was right. Thank goodness he'd gotten extra underwear for me or I never would have made it through such a lengthy conversation.
Washing up doesn't take too long. Once I finish, I put on a black t-shirt and a pair of grey jeans. I had considered wearing my red shirt again, but part of me enjoyed the fact that Gordon was the only one to get the chance to fully admire how nice it made my cleavage look.
Emerging from the bathroom, I remember Abel's shirt in my drawer. I should probably give that back to him. I rush into the women's dorm and pull out the shirt, folding it then sticking it under my shirt to conceal it.
The voices from the common area of the dorms start laughing together at the same moment that I leave the room. Taylor looks gleefully over at me and waves for my attention.
"Come hang out, (Y/N)!" she shouts, patting the seat next to her.
"I can't just yet, Tay, I have something I need to do first," I frown.
Tay pouts. "But it's been so long since we chilled together, can't you come talk for a second?"
I shake my head, feeling like an asshole. "I already said I'd be somewhere soon, I can't."
Taylor relents, shrugging. "Ah, alright then. Well, don't neglect me for too long, I miss you."
My heartstrings tug me to her, but my obligations carry me towards the hallway that leads to the green screen room.
"I miss you too, Tay. I promise I'll spend more time with you soon!" I shout over my shoulder.
The hallway to the green screen room is empty and the voices of the other chefs slowly fade until they are mere mumbles.
This is it. I'm going to tell Abel about my relationship with Gordon fucking Ramsay. I'm going to be entrusting a secret to him that could destroy everything. I can't begin to imagine the full implications of what could happen if word gets out before we're ready.
But I have to trust him. It's the only way this will work.
Taking a deep breath, I turn the knob.
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