"You are in my seat."

🪑

Roshan arrives earlier than usual for his class this evening. He felt extra apprehensive for some reason. It was probably because he was going to let his students loose with knives. Yes, that was probably the reason why. Not because he half wanted to see someone wearing an apron with two strawberries on it. 

He was still in two minds with how to play it with Clark. His rational mind was telling him to keep his distance, to be professional, but his irrational one was wanting to just be near him. To gaze, to touch, to tease, to caress, to...

"Chef?" 

Roshan is brought back from his wandering mind to the present, to see Ben standing before him. "Yes, what can I do for you..."

"Ben."

"Ben. Sorry I'm not good with names."

Ben smiles before continuing. "I just wanted to ask before Tully gets here, I've heard of the word 'aphrodisiac' associated with the food of love. I wanted to know, how do you make aphrodisiac? I want to make some for Tully for our anniversary. I want to ask him to marry me." Ben smiles widely as the words leave his lips.

Roshan tries to stifle a smile at Ben's misunderstanding of the concept. "Well, Ben. What is Tully's favourite dish?"

"He likes Subway sandwiches." Ben says excitedly. "That's how we met." Ben smiles, remembering the day he first served the customer with the beautiful smile and big captivating eyes. 

"Ok, so he likes bread and does he have a favourite filling?" Roshan adds. 

"Yeah, he likes meat, so what do you suggest?" Ben asks, almost panicked, as if Tully was going to walk into the classroom any minute as he looks over his shoulder. 

"Maybe a club sandwich or a b.l.t would be a good choice."

"And that is aphrodisiac, yeah?" Ben reiterates.

"If you are preparing food he loves, you are sure to get the result you're after. It would work for me." Roshan says reassuringly.  

"Ok thank you Chef." Ben replies as he hurries back to his seat and tries his best to act casual as Tully eventually enters the classroom after his bathroom trip. 

Roshan smiles at the pair. A momentary distraction from the vacant table behind them. Why was he caring whether it would be accommodated or not? Maybe he should be careful about what he wishes for. 

Time to start the lesson was nearing and he had resigned himself to a no show from Clark, when the classroom door swings open. There, completely out of breath was Clark, hair rather windswept, his satchel clutched to his chest. "Sorry....sorry I'm late Chef." He stumbles to the table and lets his weight fall onto the stool as he slams his belongings on the desk and proceeds to pull out the strawberry apron. 

Roshan smiles a little at the guy making full use of his apron, but decides not to let it show too much as he portrays his authoritative voice. "You were nearly late Mr Layton." 

"Ah but I wasn't." He adds with a cheeky wink...but he nearly was...

***  A few moments earlier 

...Clark heads into room 106 and sees Morton already seated texting on his phone. "Hey." He says as he makes himself comfortable on the seat next to him. 

Morton looks up in surprise.  "Oh, hey." He says smiling, but the smile soon waivers a little when he sees Clark empty his belongings onto the desk in front of him. "Um...Clark, uhh, two things..." 

"What?" Clark replies. Looking up at Morton. 

"Firstly, are you sure about your decision to be here? I mean...." Morton's eyes direct themselves to the apron sitting on the desk. 

"Oh!" Clark says with embarrassment as he hurriedly pulls the garment from the table and slips it back into his bag. "Yes. I should be here." He confirms, as if trying to convince himself of the fact. 

Morton turns a little to face Clark and shakes his head with a smile. "Get up out of that chair." 

"What? No. I want to be here, I swear!" Clark insists. He hadn't at all pondered over the last few days over old English sonnets and toyed with ideas of fleeting romances over a cooker's gas flame, like a lovesick fool. That was all a fairytale anyhow. This was the real world. 

"Get up Clark and go to the cookery class. You know you want to." Morton insists. 

"What if I don't want to get up?" Clark says defensively. 

"You have to." Morton says laughing. 

"Why do I have to?" Clark argues. 

"Because I sit here." 

Clark turns and looks up to see a male looking down at him. He had dark blonde hair and an earring hanging from one ear. "You are in my seat." 

"That's the second thing." Morton says smiling. "This is Oliver."  

"Oh!" Clark jumps to his feet, pulling his belongings up with him. 

"So you see Clark, your place is taken." Morton says wickedly. "So run along to the handsome chef and cook up a storm."

Clark now looks at Morton wondering whether to kiss him or kill him. Perhaps this was the push he needed. Maybe this was the start of his fairytale.