Poison-Rita Ora.

13.//The coackroaches at your place must be starving.

Waridi.

A cooking class wasn't what she had expected from him, but he was full of surprises.

Add three cups of flour. The instructor's voice rang through the room, a few of the people present doing exactly what he said. Then turn on the mixer.

Flour jumped everywhere, spraying them. St. Claire had forgotten the mixer lid. She stifled a giggle behind her hands, the urge for it to become a burst of fully-fledged laughter growing stronger.

The whole class had turned to look at them, and a tinge of red lightened his cheeks.

"Sorry," he murmured, the class barely returning to its common calm, some were also still stifling giggles, while others were still fully staring. She could hear him grumble beside her about the joys of cooking, shocker. He was the one who chose the class so she expected him to be much better.

She observed him from the corner of her eyes as he scooped another three cups of flour and almost forgot the lid again, but she saved the day by holding his wrist back, as he was moving to turn it on. With an amused quiet glance, she lifted it from beside him, securing it, before letting go.

The harmonious buzz of different hand-operated mixers filled the room. She silently watched as the flour went round and round, mixing with the other ingredients, forming a fine paste. For a moment she felt like that was how hers and St. Claire's lives were mixing, he recently had become a regular aspect in her life. At work and to an extent, even home. He was present in her thoughts and emotions and new experiences too.

"Hey," she heard him whisper beside her. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, it's nothing really," he gave her a look like he knew she was lying. "The flour,"

"The flour," he snorted, chuckling like he didn't believe her. She hadn't expected him to believe her anyway.

He was like a breath of fresh air in the desert storm that was her life, she had only known him a few times, but he was already arranging her life, part by part, one step at a time. He understood her and listened when she complained, what more could she want.

"Yes, the flour. It's a fine mixture," she commented looking around and noticing they were the only ones who weren't pouring their mixtures into the provided baking tins.

"Yeah sure. While you were thinking about the flour and the fine mixture, the instructor said we can put the mixtures into the oven,"

"Your mixture doesn't look like it's going to make it out of the oven, it's too thick,"

"Well, you left me to do it on my own,"

"On your own," she scoffed playfully. "I prevented another mixer accident, what do you eat if you don't know how to cook. No wonder you look so skinny, the cockroaches at your place must be starving. I wouldn't be surprised if they looked as skinny as you,"

"Take me in, please. I promise I clean after myself," he stuck out his lower lip, looking down at her with those green eyes. She could feel the space between them get heated, like static, and it wasn't the heat from the surrounding ovens.

"Let's just see how it comes out," she laughed nervously, barely managing to step back and set their oven since they had to use one for two partners. She looked at herself then at him, realizing they were both still covered in flour, her eyes widening in horror. Gesturing to their clothes, she pointed to the bathroom.

"Oh, yeah sure. I'll meet you back here," his hand brushed hers when he passed in front of her, sending shivers right down her spine.

Rubbing a white spot on her black jeans she couldn't help but reflect on the day's events. She could see the amusement dancing in her eyes when she looked in their mirror, he made her laugh, and he was a lot of fun, but she was also an heiress who had inherited a lot of money and property, she couldn't help but doubt if that was the only reason why he was with her.

Running a towel under the water at the sink, she tried to get rid of the flour in her hair. Patting gently patch by patch, her hair shining in the lighting that littered the bathroom. She was beautiful, she believed, so that couldn't be the reason why he was with her. So far, he hadn't pressured her to do anything, he was letting her set the pace, letting her decide. Pushing the doubts further away from her mind, storing them the deepest, darkest place, she got out.

Swinging herself up on the bar like stool to wait for their cakes to bake, she looked around, trying to catch a sight of where he had disappeared to. Satisfied that he wasn't around, she dug into her jeans pocket and retrieved her phone, 7.39 p.m, not very late. It would take another thirty minutes for the cake to finish cooking, then they'd pack up and go home. She wondered if she could invite him in when he dropped her off.

She felt him before he was more than two steps away from her. His scent engulfing her entire mind and soul, invading her thoughts, threatening her balance. She heard the sols of his Chelsea boots digging into the marble floors, but she busied herself, going through her work emails, even though she couldn't read them, or concentrate on anything.

"I got you a drink from the coffee shop below," he said extending the styrofoam cup towards her. "It's mocha, I figured we could talk,"

Taking it, she took a sip, savoring the rich chocolate flavor, just right she thought, the warmth traveling all through her body, down to her booted toes. She watched as he balanced his own cup, a black coffee while he situated himself on the stool next to her.

"Okay," she directed with an open smile, her posture open. "You talk,"

Someone say I'm a lazy ass😂😂, but please don't I'll cry.

Also, this wasn't the original date idea, it was another one and I already had the draft, but my changing, undecided, brilliant mind decided to write another one, but I do hope it came out just right.

Maybe they'll go on another date, and we can have them do the original one.

Tell me what you think and don't forget to vote.

Love you❤️❤️❤️all of you.