Jordan POV
I'm still trying to figure out how exactly I ended up here — walking out of the restaurant next to Lorenzo like it was the most normal thing in the world.
He'd thrown out a confident "let's go," in that tone that didn't exactly ask for permission — and me? Well… I hesitated. Not that he gave me much of a choice. But I nodded anyway. Why?
Hmm… maybe because it was easier to go with it than to say no. Maybe because a part of me needed a moment outside the kitchen. Or maybe… maybe it was just that smile of his. That smile that made my knees feel like jelly.
But then there was another part of me — the part that couldn't ignore the heavy little weight in my chest. I knew Lorenzo had been thrown off by the whole vlog-recipe situation.
Even if he hadn't said it, I could feel it. My small victory had rubbed him the wrong way.
And I didn't really understand why.
So maybe I said yes because I wanted to clear the air. Smooth things over. Or maybe… to make up for something I didn't even mean to do. And deep down? Maybe it just felt nice… to feel wanted. Not just as a clumsy intern. But as a woman. Someone worth knowing beyond the pots, pans, and chaos. Okay — maybe I was romanticizing it a little. But hey — I'm only human.
I smiled at myself, trying not to let my lonely little imagination run too far.
As we walked, I couldn't shake the image of Chef Adam's face. That raised eyebrow. That sharp tone. He never said it out loud, but everyone knew it: relationships in his kitchen were a no-go. And still… here I was. Ignoring all of it. Because Lorenzo made it feel easy. Too easy. And besides — it was just two coworkers grabbing a drink. Right?
We ended up in this small, cozy café — warm lighting, tables a little too close for comfort.
I sat across from him, already nervously fiddling with a napkin before the wine even arrived. And before I could overthink it, I just blurted out:
"I'm sorry. About the recipe thing. I didn't mean to… I didn't know it would bother you." He shook his head with that same easy, disarming smile.
"Jordan, seriously… it's nothing." Sure. It was something. And maybe he knew that too.
"But you agreeing to come out with me? That makes up for everything." He gave me a look that nearly melted me into the seat.
I smiled back.
"But really… I could tell you were upset. I didn't want—"
"It's hard to get recognition from Chef Adam…" he interrupted. "I can't help but admire — and yeah, feel a bit jealous — that you got to show him your own recipe. He's never given me that chance."
"Oh…"
"It's not your fault, Jordan," he added more softly. "You deserve the credit. You're finding your place in that kitchen."
I blushed. Again. At this point, blushing might as well be my natural state. I couldn't find the words. I just smiled.
"I like having you around…" he added, voice lower now. "In the kitchen." I blinked.
Okay, that was definitely flirting, right?
"Humm…" Humm? Really, Jordan? That's what you've got?
"And here too," he added, placing his hand over mine. And just like that, my stomach did a full somersault. Was this man actually interested in me?
I adjusted my glasses and tried to give him a flirty smile. How does one flirt, exactly?
Ugh. I felt like a teenager.
"You could cook for me sometime… I'd love to try one of your recipes." The words left my mouth before I could stop them — and they sounded way more suggestive than I intended.
Crap. Did it sound like I wanted him on the menu?
Not that I'd mind. Ugh, Jordan. Focus. First you're dreaming about Chef Adam's arms, and now you're throwing yourself at Lorenzo? Am I ovulating or something?
"Great idea," he said, with a smile that made me squeeze my thighs under the table.
Someone bring ice. Please. "How about on our next day off?" I nodded, blushing again.
I bit my lip without realizing. "You can bring dessert," he added.
Of course my brain immediately went where it shouldn't. Could I be dessert? Fortunately, my mouth stayed shut for once.
My sanity was saved when the waiter arrived to take our order.
After that, the conversation flowed. He was light, funny, attentive. Easy to talk to. Easy to forget the rest of the world with. And I… let myself enjoy it.
Instead of grabbing his car, he offered to walk me home. Said he wanted to stretch our time together. And me? I melted just a little more.
As we walked, he placed a hand on my lower back — light, casual. But oh… I felt it.
I really felt it. My body had forgotten what touch felt like. I wasn't a virgin — I'd had a boyfriend. Just one. But even then…
That relationship had been a mess. Not just because he cheated, but because… well, because it had all been kind of awful.
So there I was, walking beside Lorenzo, step after step, feeling warm and slightly dizzy, trying very hard not to show how much his nearness affected me. But let's be honest: it's hard to ignore when a gorgeous man walks beside you like that — calm, charming, fully present.
At my door, my heart started racing.
How was this going to end? A polite wave? A double-cheek kiss? Something awkward and abrupt?
My brain ran through 300 possible endings in less than a second… And then he took my hands. He kissed one — slow and deliberate.
Then gently pulled me toward him. His other hand landed lightly on my waist.
And he stepped closer.
He leaned in. His mouth just inches from mine. His gaze locked with mine, and the air between us turned electric.
I could feel his breath on my skin — warm, close. My heart pounded so loud I was sure he could hear it.
And for a moment… everything stopped. The street. The air. Even my thoughts. All I could feel was that warmth between us. That silent promise of something. I wanted to lean in… and also run. I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss Lorenzo.
I closed my eyes… and waited.
Waited for the moment.
The touch.
The kiss.