"You taking a cookery class is as likely as me spending the night alone in a haunted house."

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"Ah, no no no!" Roshan holds up an arm to stop Clark stepping any closer to him. "You'll not catch me out again." 

Clark stops when the long slender fingers make contact with his shoulder. He looks down at the hand, raising his own and peeling the fingers away.

Roshan now snatches back his own hand. "The lesson is over Mr Layton, please close the door on the way out." 

Clark slowly backs away, not dropping his gaze from Roshan's. He picks up the apron and holds it up. "Thanks again for this chef." He then grabs his satchel and as requested, turns about and leaves, closing the door behind him.

Aaaand breathe...

Roshan holds a hand up to his chest. Never, not once had someone been in his classroom and affected him the way that guy had just done over the last hour or so. "What's up with you Roshan?" He questions himself, as he stares at the now vacant space Clark has been sitting at. This guy had made Roshan reckless, stray from the path of sensibility. A part of him didn't like it. Roshan didn't like being out of control. But maybe that's the reason why somewhere, deep down, he actually loved it. This exciting and new side, where anything may happen...

***

Clark eventually makes his way to room 106, where in the distance he can see Morton talking to another male, their interactions friendly. As they leave, Morton looks up to see Clark approach. He meets him halfway. "What the hell happened? Where were you? I was calling!" He questions as he readjusts the strap on his shoulder. 

Clark looks at Morton with a guilty smile. Where would he start? Then he thinks best to start with his phone. "I'm sorry Morton. I smashed my phone up. I crashed into this guy and..."

"I thought your phone sounded weird on the call." Morton deduces, "You sounded like an alien. I thought it was the line... wait... hang on..." The words slowly stop as he sees the injury. "What have you done to your arm?" 

Clark knew that this would be as hard as hell to explain. Things were simple enough to begin with, crash into a stranger, break the phone, go to the wrong room. But then it got a little more complicated.... Choose to stay in the wrong class, argue with the teacher, burn food and oneself, oh...and have an impulsive full on snog in the medical room with the chef. Clark realised that he was going to have to word things very carefully.

"I uh...I thought I'd give cooking a try instead. That was where I ended up. Plus you always say how I eat too much takeout." Clark ends on a weak grin, but Morton just looks at him unconvinced. 

"Clark. What am I hearing right now? You taking a cookery class is as likely as me spending the night alone in a haunted house. There's got to be more to it than that." 

"What do you mean?" Clark replies on the defence. "Maybe it will be good for me to face my weaknesses." 

"Are you sure it's your inability to cook that is your weakness or the cookery teacher?" He now questions raising a knowing eyebrow. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Clark replies, suddenly looking anywhere but at Morton. Then the question is returned. "Anyways, what do you know about the cookery teacher?" 

"People talk...well actually Oliver." Morton says with a smile. 

"Oliver? Who's Oliver?" Clark wonders. This was a new name to his ears. 

"Well after you deserted me for your new pursuit, I had to sit with someone. Turns out your absence was my gain. He told me all about the cookery teacher and how hot he is, but he thinks our language teacher is hotter, Mr Raphael Rodriguez. You know he knows so many languages, not just Spanish, but he is also fluent in Japanese, Mandarin, Thai, French..."

"Ok, ok I get the idea." Clark cuts him off. 

"So does this mean you're coming back to the language class next week? I mean there's still time." Morton wonders. 

Clark is silent for a moment, not knowing what to say, but more importantly, not knowing what to actually do. It was true that cuisine was not his fortè. It was also true that he hated to cook and up until a couple of hours ago had no desire to learn about it. But the teacher... Clark couldn't deny the obvious. There was something about Mr  Roshan Heath, teacher of basic cookery, which made Clark's usual methodical brain turn to candy floss and Clark feared that he liked the taste. 

"Well?"  Morton prompts for an answer. "What are you going to do?"