Good life-Kehlani, G-Eazy.

14.//atleast you had your boxer briefs on.

Waridi.

She couldn't hold in her laughter when St. Claire told her about a time in college when he'd lost a bet and had to run outside naked and had met his mother along the way. It came babbling out of her in waves, little tremors shaking her shoulders every once in a while, as she tried to hold the sound in. Dabbing at the few stray tears at the corners of her eyes that threatened to spill using a napkin.

They were not the only ones in the room and she did not want to disturb other people conversations, practice courtesy, she kept repeating in her mind, but the result was disastrous. It ended up with the instructors giving them stink eyes. She held her hands together, a gesture of apology, but no one else seemed disturbed by it.

"I was horrified," he repeated the expression on his face relating just how much of a torture it was.

"At least you had your boxer briefs on," she pointed out remembering the details of how he had at least negotiated to have them on. "What I would have given to see that,"

"You want to see me naked," his eyes crinkled at the corners, the laughter lines showing, a clear sign he was joking. "I can make that happen,"

"That's what you said, I didn't say that," she scoffed taking a sip of her drink, grateful for the gesture, it was a chilly night, and what better way to chase the cold away but a hot cup of mocha.

The timer went off, indicating that their cakes had gotten ready. A few others in the room went off to and the flurry of movements to the various ovens brought an end to their conversation.

Wearing the kitchen gloves, she carefully took out both their cakes and placed them on a cooling rack. Hers turned out fluffy and soft, while St. Claire's although not bad, was hard, and cracked in the middle. She bit her inner cheek, refraining from the I told you so remark that was on the tip of her tongue.

"Come on," she heard a taunting voice beside her. "Say it, laugh out loud,"

Place your cakes on the cooling rack, and let's start on the icing the instructor's voice cut off the banter she was about to start. She watched as St. Claire tried to ply the cake out of the baking tin, he didn't even line it with butter, this time she did laugh. If they continued, they'd be thrown out. He cussed out lightly.

"It's okay, we can decorate mine," she shuffled closer to him. "but I'm taking it home,"

She put butter in a bowl and gestured for him to beat it to a light and fluffy mixture, while she sifted the icing and poured it in slowly at first, then quickly as they watched all the sugar disintegrate and combined. She allowed him to add the milk vanilla essence, beating it to a smooth, creamy texture. They worked in comfortable silence.

"What flavor would you like it to be?" he asked holding out the melted chocolate, orange zest, and lemon.

"Lemon," she felt her mouth water as she imagined, the tangy, bursting of flavors in her mouth. "Maybe we could top it up with raspberry frosting,"

"As you wish," he was surprisingly good at decorating, made up for his lack of knowledge in cooking, and compensated for her lack of knowledge in decorating, she was not good at it. She watched as the cake span, the lemon buttercream coating every inch of its empty space.

"You did art in school," she curiously asked but couldn't understand why she was comparing cake decorating to art.

"Yes, why?" he looked up to find her watching him swiftly and evenly spread out the cream on the cake. "Oh, that. But I also come from France, it's the headquarters of dessert,"

The instructor was already passing out boxes for the cakes, to be carried home in. "Although you joked around a lot in my class, you guys look good together. I look forward to seeing you next time,"

"Uh... we are not... we really are just..." she stuttered under their intense gazes, she could feel a blush creeping up slowly, heating up her face.

"Thank you," St. Claire graciously accepted. Why did he have to be so composed? The instructor placed the box on our table before moving on to another group.

"Hey," she swatted his arm and he yelped pouting. "You just made him think that we were..."

"I'd that really a bad thing?"

"And he said there will be a next time,"

"Yes, of course, I paid for several classes. Will that be a problem? If it is then we can cancel, your call,"

"No, it's okay,"

"Come on then, I'll take you home," he announced, her box of cake clasped in one hand and his other one, firmly clasping her hand.

Honestly, guys, 2020 is just not it, every day, someone somewhere has lost someone they love or are mourning a loved one.

Everything is chaotic, with the pandemic, the locust invasion, the bombings, it's a hard year for everyone... And my heart goes out to all those who have lost a loved one during these hard times. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

See you next time. Tell me what you think.

Also, what do you think they should cook at their next 'cooking date'.

Vote and comment.

Love you❤️