The Devil's 5'5

Chapter 40 - Wifey Material

April 2nd, 5:45 PM - Cooking Studio - Chicago, IL Azura's POV

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Retying her hair for the umpteenth time, she checked her distorted reflection and tried to tame the fly-aways that refused to stay in her ponytail.

A few strands delicately framed her face as she carelessly blew at them. Rolling her eyes at herself, she moved away from the glistening silver pan she had used as a mirror and waited for Preston to come back with the ingredients.

Being in a cooking class was the last thing she expected when she came back to do her job.

It felt odd, weird almost, that somehow they were able to move back into the general flow of things.

Having come prepared to face the anger and betrayal after she had left so abruptly, especially without giving him closure after his confession, she was left puzzled by the lack of questions on Preston's end.

His understanding nature and immediate acceptance of the excuse, "it's complicated" threw her off her A-game and she was left to flit around in an unusual limbo as she tried to understand the confusing boy.

His voice brought her out of her reverie and she tried to match the grin on his face. "Ready to get started?"

Nodding she held up her cleaned hands to show that she was ready.

"Alright, so you're going to dice the vegetables," handing her the colourful assortment, "and I'll do the chicken."

"Sounds good." She gathered her ingredients into a large strain bowl to wash them before she started her task. As she set her station up, she tested out the knives before opting for one that was long and thin.

Starting with the carrot, she sliced the ends before chopping it into small pieces. Her initial start was slow but within a few minutes, she had reached a steady and fast pace, expertly getting through all ten large carrots.

But as she had performed her task, she felt a gaze trained on her movements. Before she moved on to the green onions, she paused ready to address his stare.

"Yes?"

She turned her head to look at him and saw him standing there dumbfounded. His eyes focused on the neat pile of carrots in the bowl.

"Do you want them smaller?"

She picked up a piece and inspected it, frowning at the fact that she didn't pay close attention to his instructions.

"N-no. These are fine, great even. I just didn't think you knew your way around kitchen tools."

She relaxed, thankful that he was impressed at her ability rather than disappointed. "Why? Because I never cook?"

He glanced at her before clearing his throat. Rolling his shoulders, she watched them flex under the tight shirt. 

Is it odd that the pastel pink apron makes him hotter?

Shifting her gaze, she watched as he placed the thawed chicken thigh on the cutting board and began to section the meat into smaller portions. "I mean, you don't seem like a fan of cooking, which is fine. It's just the way you diced those veggies was like an expert chef who's been in the kitchen for years."

She smirked, and silently copied his actions as she moved back to cutting the green onions. He had a point. Given how fast and precise she had been, it would have been a skill that was acquired with practice. But her control didn't come from cooking and rather from spending time training with various knives for hours a day. While the real reason couldn't be revealed she offered a vague response.