Must Date The Chef

|| 47

"Are you... Are you sure he will be there?" I spare another look at Chi through the long mirror in my room, fingers hovering above my loop earring. "He might not show up."

Standing behind me with a blow dryer aimed at my messy curls and half-empty container of Eco gel opened on the vanity, she says, "He should be." Our eyes meet in the mirror, she sighs. "The party is for him."

My mouth clamps shut to stop from sharing my unsolicited opinion, I sit in silence as she parts my hair into sections and applies the gel diligently until I have my hair up in a bun. I sink my teeth into my lip, my fingers brush the surface of the vanity and my thoughts wander to Paul, the stubborn man I love. My heart flutters, I swallow.

The outcome of this evening meeting might influence my travel plans, I am willing to move my flight by a few hours, a day for his sake. I hope he still wants me, my eyelids flutter, I stare at my beautiful reflection in the mirror and smile, Chi did a great job on my face. The winged eyeliner accentuates my dull, brown eyes, making them pop the way Paul likes. Of course, he wants me, any sane man will. I wink at my twin image and wince when Chi flicks a finger over my ear.

It earns her a scowl, she sticks her tongue out and I roll my eyes. Miss troublemaker.

I am certain the idea to throw a mini dinner at Mr Adams's house in celebration of his restored win is Chi's. Paul hates parties and no one loves a good party more than his twin, I come close but not close enough to her. The stark differences between those two are almost laughable, their contrasting lifestyle too, the only things they have in common are their last name and love for giving. He should give me another chance.

A sensation spreads throughout my chest at the reason for the small party, I smoothen the imaginary creases on the gown Chi picked out for me. He won. A grin creeps up my face, my chest hammers in excitement which soon wanes when I remember I don't have a gift for him. The tiny voice in my head reminds me of the little effort I made, the not-so-innocent comment I left under an Instagram page showing pictures of Alfa and the chief judge. That incompetent duo.

Thinking of it now causes the initial guilt to stab me in the chest, I massage my temples and wonder if I did the right thing. A sigh escapes me, it is on them, not me. They are friends, close enough to be called family.

The final decision shouldn't have been left to a man with a candidate who is almost family to him. Stupid of the organisers, they should have done more research before selecting him. People like me will not shut up about their suspicions especially if it has to do with my boyfriend. We are still dating.

Scenes from the last few days since I tipped an Instagram influencer flash through my head in slow motion and a proud smile graces to my lips. One thing led to another, Paul's growing fanbase of pretty females I don't like took the harmless suggestion I made to obtain signatures of people in support of a new result. It barely lasted two days, the organisers yielded and the title of champion was given to the first runner up.

To him. He deserves it and all other good things on earth. Plus, the co-judges admitted they had nothing to do with the final result.

None of the participants have said anything since the announcement by the organisers apologising for any troubles caused by the change in results. I scoff and fiddle with my eyeliner sitting on the vanity, we love the inconvenience so long it gets the work done.

His father's identity came up a few times but Paul never responded, I know he won't. It is easier to get information out of a rock than to get it from him. Too stubborn but I want and love him that way, I can handle the different sides to him. Yeah, that is why I am sitting here, dreading our meetup later at night. I exhale and allow the doubts ebb, we will sort ourselves out. We always do.