Page 41 of Continuum

“I couldn’t cook in college because we didn’t have kitchens!” I laughed. Looking around as we stepped toward the basins, I took in the setup. “I’m just trying to figure out how you were able to put together this day of surprises at the last minute. You can be honest”—I leaned closer to him— “was this supposed to be for you and Eli?”

“No!” He chuckled. “I planned this on the way back to the hotel.”

“Really?” I was shocked as we washed our hands. “How?”

“I thought about you the entire time I was on campus and they were showing us the third floor. And then for us to run into each other later that night, I knew I wanted to go back there with you. I remembered you said you couldn’t cook, and I saw a cooking class on the internet. It led me to this cooking competition class, and I thought it’d be fun to go up against you.”

“You were already up against me earlier,” I said under my breath.

He let out a loud cackle.

As Pamela directed everyone to their stations, we made our way to ours.

There were six islands with stovetops and counter space. The ingredients were perfectly placed at each station. On the back side of each island, there was an oven and a dishwasher.

“I can’t believe you remembered that I couldn’t cook,” I snickered as we waited for the class to begin.

“Can you cook now?” he wondered.

“Yes!” I shrugged. “Of course I can! Can you?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course…”

I eyed him suspiciously. “Sounds like you’re lying but we will see.”

“I mean, I’m not lying… Steak, chicken, ribs, I throw down.”

“But…?”

“But I mean… I could do better with sides. I’m not bad, but… you know…” He lifted his shoulders and frowned. “Don’t judge me.”

I bumped him with my hip. “I would never.”

He held my gaze for a beat too long before he said, “I know.”

Suddenly, nothing was funny.

I exhaled slowly.

“Okay we are going to get started,” Pamela announced. “Please take your aprons and put them on. I am going to walk you through an entrée and a dessert. You will start with the dessert, so it’ll have time to cool. I will then walk you through the entrée. You have your main ingredients on the counter; however, there are seasoning, spice, and flavor samples on the rack against the wall if you are looking for something to make your dish stand out. Your meals will be collected, tasted, and judged. I’ll tell you more about that at the end. But everyone goes home with a meal, a recipe, and bragging rights. Are we ready?”

Everyone cheered enthusiastically.

“First we will start with the cake. The recipe is right up here”—Pamela pointed to the image projected on the wall behind her— “but I will also be baking a cake along with you. Make sure you have the ingredients and flavors you want. I will begin in five minutes.”

We surveyed our selection and then we both headed toward the array of additional flavors at the same time.

“You don’t have to follow me and cheat,” Kwame said as he blocked my path.

“Get out of my way,” I giggled.

“Hi, how are you?” a woman asked Kwame, reaching around us to grab the almond extract. “Did you go to HU?”

“Hey, I like your dress,” the woman she was with told me, trying to pull my attention in the other direction.

“Thank you. And it has pockets,” I informed her with a smile. While my conversation was with the woman talking to me, my attention was with the woman in the low-cut tank top talking to Kwame.

“Your friend is cute,” she mentioned.

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