Page 37 of The Pucking Fake Marriage

“Some fool whacked me with his stick here,” he says, jabbing at the spot. “A rookie. Says it was a mistake.” He huffs.

My smile broadens. “At least you weren’t drenched in hot oil because the chef you hired mistook you for the sink.”

He turns around to look at me, his jaw slack. “Really? Your new chef did that?”

“No,” I say quickly. “Actually, it was the first chef I hired when I bought the restaurant. He was a nervous wreck. I knew even then that it was a bad idea, hiring someone who was a ‘self-study.’”

Ken lets out a bark of laughter. “A self-study chef? Come on, Charles.”

I give him a quick jab on his sore spot. He winces. A strange feeling bubbles up in my gut.Warmth,I realize a second later. I actually like talking to Ken like this, as it was in the old days.

“A lot of world class chefs didn’t go to culinary school,” I remind him. “Your mom is one of them.”

He shrugs. “Agreed. She taught me a lot about cooking. Hey, maybe I can teach your new chef some of her recipes.”

“Coming from the man who makes eggs for breakfast every morning? I don’t think so.”

We’re now deep in friendship territory, and it feels good. So good I can almost forget my wanton desire for him.

Almost.

Still, it makes me remember how it felt being around him. How Kali could never measure up to someone I could lose sense of time speaking to.

An old memory comes to mind. It happened after Sasha, my best friend in high school, hung out with me and Ken for hours.

“You guys act like a realcouple,” she’d said, sounding disgruntled. “Laughing together, inside jokes. You’re more in sync than you and Kali. Why aren’t you with Ken? You clearly like him better.”

I’d swatted her off with some mediocre response, but I still remember the strange emotions that had flared in my heart at her words. Deep down, I knew she had raised a valid point.

But I also knew that I’d never dare to thinkabout going for Ken. It would be like taunting the universe. And I decided that it’s better we preserve our sweet, easy friendship than ask for more and get burned.

Cause you can have anything, just not everything.

A lesson from my mom.

But she’s full of shit. Even though she has been proven right so far. For instance, justlook what happened when Ken decided to tell me about his feelings.

But I should be able to have everything, damn it.

“Only because it’s training season and I’ve got to get myprotein in,” Ken pulls my mind out of the spiral. “I can still cook. It never leaves you.”

I stash away the bitterness that arises in my gut when I think of Ken confessing his feelings. This is a new phase in our relationship, one I’m grateful for.

“I bought the restaurant because I was inspired by your mom’s cooking,” I admit. It’s the first time I’ve ever told anyone, but I don’t feel self-conscious about it. “I thought it would be easy to learn. Even tried by myself for a whole week. But I sucked.” Something about sharing my failures with Ken feels freeing. Not at all as embarrassing as I thought it would be.

Maybe because even after all this time, I still trust him to want the best for me. I know he and his mother never got along, except when they were cooking together.

“You probably had a horrible tutor.”

“It was a cookbook and a few YouTube channels, actually.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m here now. And I can teach you how to do it properly.”

I surprise myself by chuckling. Ken’s shoulder muscles are completely relaxed now, and so I move outwards, going to his arms and forward till I’m spreading the oil on the topmost part of his chest.

I hear it before I feel it, a change in my breathing. It’s suddenly getting harsher, thinner.

Without thinking, I snake my arms lower, going for his pecs. My fingers spread across the light hairs on his chest, brushing, massaging. The reality of my attraction is swinging back in my face, as hard as a punch to the gut.

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