Chapter 22: 20 - Bet

"My god."

"That's—wow."

"How did you even get it to fit?"

Rokim, Lisa and Vanessa stared up at Rian's creation in awe. And yes, I do mean up. No slip of the tongue there. The thing was huge.

"That's what she said," I drawled.

Four pairs of eyes cut to mine, their expressions ranging from amusement to pride to disgust. I shrugged nonchalantly, grinning when I locked knowing gazes with Lisa. "What? If you guys don't want me to say it then don't make it so easy."

Rokim exhaled loudly. "Fair point," he acquiesced. He turned to Rian, whose dark stare I just noticed was fixed on me. I frowned confusedly. Rokim clucked his tongue and snapped his fingers sharply, stepping to block me from Rian's rapacious glare.

"Hey—hey. You still with us, Haltie?"

My confusion rapidly shifted to glee, and I tried in vain to choke back a laugh. Rian gave Rokim a withering glance, but the damage was done. That was it. I was gone.

Haltie? Where the hell did Rokim get that from? I thought between howls of laughter. I distantly heard Lisa join in, but the name was so casual, so downright cuddly that it took me a full minute to calm down.

"Are you finished?" came Rian's irritated response. I smirked, wiping tears from my eyes with an exaggerated flourish.

"Only if you are, Haltie," I replied smugly, my voice husky from mirth. My suggestive words had the desired effect; Rian scowled, but not before reflexively wetting his lips with a dark glint in his eyes.

A jolting movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. Vanessa had whipped out a knife, the sleek metal glinting brightly in the light. "The judging, remember?" she said innocently when I shot her a questioning look.

"Ah, right." Rokim grimaced, glancing over at Vanessa with an almost nervous expression. "We're gonna have to cut this thing down somehow." He surveyed the room. "I'll go get some serving utensils from my apartment. Ness," he said firmly, tilting his head towards the door, "wanna help me out?"

Vanessa sighed and put down her knife, to Rokim's obvious relief. "Fine, if you insist."

Lisa watched them go—with a surprising tense expression, might I add—before leaning over, one prim eyebrow raised cheekily. "So . . . were you an art student in your past life or something?" she asked Rian.

He lifted his shoulder casually. "It's a hobby of mine."

I snorted, momentarily forgetting our little feud. "Hobby? The boy's practically Van Gogh, except with both ears intact." I hopped up on the counter, my legs dangling off the edge. "He could have gone to freaking MIT and taken their world-class arts program, but no, he just had to have his degree in psychology."

For the second time in ten minutes, I felt a more than one pair of eyes fix on me. Rian's were of particular interest; his scowl was absolutely scathing. My answering smile was wicked, and I slowly lied back on the counter, not breaking my now upside-down gaze from his.

"Careful, Haltie," I said, my voice teasing and deceptively soft. "Scowling does you no good, you know. You'll get wrinkles."

The following silence was tense. Rian glared hard at me. I stared right back, unwilling to lose this little contest we'd begun, but I was suddenly distracted by coolness on my hip.

In response to my diverted attention, Rian's eyes flicked further down my body.

Then a couple things happened: he swallowed, his eyes darkening in that familiar way I recognized from the elevator. I frowned—why was he looking at me like that?—and then I realized that my shirt had ridden up when I'd stretched out on the counter. The curve of my hip and the barest hint of my navel were exposed, open to the air.

And then I understood the hunger in Rian's face, my own throat going parched. I was spread out on the counter like a feast ready to be devoured, and for a second I was consumed by the thought that there was literally nothing I'd like more than for him to reach over and do just that.

The cool wind on my body strengthened, like something even outside of myself was propelling me to make the first move, any move, anything that would get us to move. Preferably together.

Wait. Wind?

Something struck me. The pressing breeze I felt wasn't figurative. It was real. I could actually feel it, drifting over the pokey bit of my hipbone sensually.

All the windows in the room are closed, I thought confusedly, so where's the breeze coming from? I looked down perplexedly, searching for the cause. I wasn't disappointed.

"Lisa!"

"What?" she asked. Her wide eyes were the picture of innocence, as if she hadn't been blowing gently on my midriff a moment earlier.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I asked, dumbfounded and a little turned on.

She grinned devilishly. "There was a feather on you?" she responded, more like a question than a statement.

I stared for a second. Then I smirked. Not exactly what I'd been thinking of, but I could definitely afford to blow off some steam.

"Well in that case, please continue."

Her eyes sparkled. "Ooh. Please, hm? You know I like a girl with manners."

My smirk broadened. "Oh, it's not that. I just think there are more feathers, somewhere down there. Probably."

She mirrored my expression, her hands running up the outsides of my legs teasingly. "Oh, really?"

"Mm. Really."

She yanked me to the edge of the counter playfully, until she was positioned directly between my legs. I drew myself up and delicately wrapped my arms around her neck, my hands tangling in her silky blonde hair. Her hands danced up my sides and I dimpled at her mischievously.

"Heh," she chuckled, her nose sliding against mine. "France went and made you dirty, Han. I like it."

"Oh, believe me," I breathed, eyes twinkling, "France had nothing to do with it."

"What the hell are you guys doing?"

Lisa and I glanced in unison towards the sharp voice that had interrupted. Rokim stood there with arms full of utensils looking positively confounded, Vanessa in tow. I felt Lisa tense up, but I figured it was just because of the current circumstances.

And Rian, who in all honesty I had kinda forgotten about (I know, right? Lisa was quite talented) was staring at the two of us, open-mouthed.

Leave your mouth open, and . . .

"I feel like I walked into an adult film," Ness said drily, but she offered no further comment on my and Lisa's still-intertwined limbs.

Rokim tried to force himself out of his stupor. "I don't even—Han? Lisa?" he stumbled, shaking his head. "Th-the two of you? But you don't—you're not—"

I withdrew my hands from Lisa's hair, wagging a finger at him jokingly. "Now, now, Kimmy," I admonished. "Just because we're besties doesn't mean you can go defining my sexuality for me." He sputtered in response, and I grinned.

A movement to his left distracted me. I caught Rian glancing away, his scowl returning in full force. I frowned slightly, unsure what to think.

"Besides," Lisa interjected, her eyes flitting from Rokim to Vanessa, with her fistful of sharp cutlery, "I figured Hanna could use a . . . distraction."

That seemed to sober Rokim up somewhat, but he still looked considerably flustered. "Oh, whatever." He threw his hands in the air exasperatedly. "Just get off each other and help me carve this thing."

Lisa and I looked at each other. I pouted and reluctantly hopped off the counter, sliding down her to the ground. "We'll continue this another time," I promised with another smirk.

"Bet," she replied, sending me her signature wink.

We walked over to the enormous dish. Rian plucked a large knife from Rokim's grip, muttering, "it's fine, I can do it."

I took the opportunity to actually examine it for the first time. I had to hand it to him—he really knew how to make an impression.

It seemed like a layered cake at first glance, but that description didn't remotely do it justice. It was magnificent, beautifully crafted with just enough artistic flair to make it gourmet but not pretentious, picturesque but not inedible.

The beef tenderloin I'd randomly laid out for him was put to good use; instead of floury, sweetened confectioneries, the 'cake' was stacked with alternating layers of savoury ingredients. A hearty serving of tenderloin au jus for the first, followed by gravy-drizzled mash potatoes surrounding beef hotpot, and then a layer dedicated entirely to roasted vegetables and beef stew, finally topped with an intricately carved flower made from peppers and makeshift vines extending down the length of the whole thing. It looked absolutely mouth watering, an irresistible cascade of blended spices and delicious meat. Frankly, I was amazed by his talent.

We all watched in suppressed awe as Rian gripped the knife, handling it like an expert, and neatly cut away a portion for each judge. He arranged it on their plates, flawlessly keeping the flower-burst pattern intact, and handed them a serving all in a manner of minutes.

Vanessa lifted her fork, looking down at the food voraciously. "Bon appetit, everyone," she announced before digging in. Rokim and Lisa followed suit.

I monitored their expressions carefully, ignoring Rian when he leaned against the wall in his typical arrogant way. Lisa looked impressed, Vanessa chewed and made little moans in clear enjoyment, and Rokim's face was schooled into stone.

After about five minutes of this, their plates were finally clean and their expressions thoughtful. I waited patiently for them to decide on their scores, but I couldn't keep from tapping the pads of my fingers against my arm.

I paused and forced myself to stop when I realized Rian was doing the exact same thing.

"Hm," Vanessa broke the silence. "The flavours go well together, and the gravy sauce is absolutely mind-blowing." Her eyes flicked between me and him, and I felt a strange unpleasant feeling in my gut. "Pretty good for a newbie."

Rian didn't respond.

Lisa spoke up next. "The presentation of the dish was impressive!" she said, enthusiastic as usual. "I thought using garlic as a complement was a good choice too. It was that and one other thing, right? What was it?"

I racked my brain. Parsley, I guessed. It was the only thing that would—

"—counter the thyme without overpowering the dish," Rian replied easily. "So it made sense to use parsley." He shot a brief, barely noticeable glance in my direction. "Or that's what someone once told me, anyways."

My eyes dropped to the floor and I stared hard at my shoes. The roiling in my belly was getting worse.

Don't think. Don't want, I told myself stubbornly. Shut down every feeling that makes you wish for what you can't have.

Rokim's voice drew me out of my self-chastisement. "I agree with the other two judges," he said slowly. "It's amazing to me that you, a beginner, could have already achieved this level of cooking prowess. You definitely have ability."

He frowned before continuing. "But remember, that's not all that the ecomp evaluators will be judging you on." His eyes darted to mine before returning to the empty plate in front of him. "You were unfocused and distracted the entire time you were cooking. Was there something else on your mind?"

Rokim's question hung in the air, and we all looked to Rian curiously. His jaw was clenched, and there was a muscle flexing in his cheek. He seemed to be trying very hard to maintain his self-control.

"No," he said tersely. "There wasn't. Anything else?"

Rokim paused before nodding slowly. "No, there's nothing else. I think I have everything I need." He turned to the others. "Everyone have a score in mind?"

Lisa and Vanessa murmured assent. "Then Vanessa, if you don't mind going first," Rokim said.

Vanessa smiled sweetly, putting down her fork with a clatter. "I give this a ten. Like I said before, I thought it was fantastic."

Rian only nodded in response. I watched with a tinge of amusement as Vanessa's mouth flattened into a displeasured line at his non-reaction.

Lisa went next, saying, "The final dish was very good, but I feel you have a very detached, technical cooking style." She glanced down at his tapping fingers, and her eyes flicked to mine knowingly. "It tastes amazing but lacks heart," she continued. "So my score is a eight out of ten."

His expression remained impassive, but I noticed his fingers stopped tapping entirely. I managed to hide my frown, but if I didn't know better I would've thought Rian—Rian, kid genius—was actually nervous.

Finally, it was Rokim's turn. "I already gave my thoughts on the dish, so I'll just come out with it." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I give this a nine out of ten."

Rian's brow crept up in surprise—no doubt he expected his lowest score to be from Rokim. I guess there's a first time for everything, I thought wryly.

"So your total comes out to 27 out of 30. Nice job." Vanessa looked up at him from beneath her lashes. "Probably won't be easy to beat that."

"Probably won't be," I affirmed mildly, throwing a smile in Vanessa's direction when she raised an eyebrow.

"Why don't you show us what you've got, Han?" she asked, her tone fructose-sweet. "I'm eager to see what the best chef in our class has in store." I caught Rokim wincing and glancing worriedly at Lisa, but I opted to keep my eyes on the judge in front of me. Whatever was bothering them, they'd tell me on their own time.

Vanessa cast her eyes in the direction of my dish, which I'd already placed on three separate plates and covered with a lid. I swept them up, deftly balancing them on my arms and placing them in front of each judge.

"You presentation is certainly very . . . different than Rian's," Vanessa remarked, examining the lidded saucers with a prod of her fork. "Is this how you plan to perform at the ecomp?"

The question was innocent, but I found myself suppressing a frown anyways. "I appreciate your concern, Ness, but I'm sure there's a reason Prof chose me as the ecomp candidate," I replied, my tone bitingly pleasant. "I'll be sure not to let him down."

Whoa. Where did that come from?

Rokim snorted in suppressed laughter. Vanessa pursed her lips and sniffed in disdain, but didn't respond. Despite my surprise at my venomous reaction to her—Vanessa is my friend, I reminded myself—I considered it a win. Once she got going, it was usually pretty hard to shut her up.

"Would you like me to serve my dish now?" I asked courteously.

"Go ahead," she replied with a dismissive wave. I promptly reached over and lifted the lid off her plate. "I doubt that it's even—"

She stopped short when her gaze landed on my now-unveiled dish, and I went ahead and unlidded the other two as well. Rokim and Lisa, who had been watching our exchange amusedly, sucked in a breath in unison. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rian go still.

On each plate was a slab of A4 wagyu beef steak, smokey and cooked to perfection. But that wasn't what had caught their attention—it was the savoury crepe garnish, flaked and arranged into the form of an open book, that had made their jaws drop.

The crepe was seasoned strongly and intricately aligned with the steak and surrounding sliced vegetables. I wasn't that bad an artist myself, and the dish was perfect in its absolute symmetry and aesthetic appeal. The real kicker, however, was the extravagant 212 written across the crepe in red wine sauce.

I heard a distinct little growly sound come from Rian, who was standing behind me. I didn't turn, but I had to work hard to suppress the smirk spreading across my face.

"How—" Lisa finally broke the stunned silence, staring down at the dish in awe. "The crepes—there's so many! And they're all so delicate . . . how did you do this in just one hour?"

I shrugged. "My laser sense of focus?"

Vanessa narrowed her eyes at me balefully. "Did you have this pre-prepared or something?" she asked accusingly.

I raised an eyebrow and jutted my finger at Rian over my shoulder. "You can ask him. He's the one who picked out my ingredients for the competition."

Vanessa shut her mouth, glaring at her plate in mistrust. "Try it," I dared her. "Then judge. Sound good, Ness?"

Rokim hadn't said anything so far. He was just staring at the saucer before him with a fixed, tense expression. "What's the 212 for?" he asked quietly.

I paused before answering. "My lucky number for the week."

He scowled, but didn't press further. I watched carefully as all three of them picked up their forks and knives and dug in.

"Oh my god." Lisa closed her eyes in ecstasy as she chewed. "I know I'm supposed to be a big scary professional ecomp judge right now, but Han. Like, how do you even exist. Isn't it illegal for something to taste this good?"

"Wow," Rokim muttered through a mouthful of food. "You were good before but . . . France practically made you a wizard."

Vanessa gripped her fork tightly and stared daggers down at her half-eaten food, but didn't offer up any resistance. I frowned a bit when I saw her knuckles go white. What had the fork ever done to her?

"You okay, Ness?" I asked concernedly. She'd been acting really weird the past couple of days, flirting with Rian excluded, but right now . . . right now she looked downright furious.

"It's . . . good," she managed through gritted teeth. "It's really good."

I tilted my head curiously. Seriously, what had gotten into her? "Okay. So . . ."

"What? So what?" she snapped.

My brow furrowed in confusion. "So . . . what's your score?" I asked perplexedly.

She finally looked up at me, and I was taken aback at the pure hatred I saw in her gaze. It was almost crazed, the way she was glaring at me. I jolted involuntarily when she dropped her fork onto her plate with a clatter.

"A ten," she practically spat. "I give it a ten. Happy now?"

I blinked in surprise. "Vanessa—"

She got up abruptly, grabbing her bag and heading for the entrance. The clack clack clack of her heels gave me a strange sense of déjà vu, and I felt inexplicable dread coil in my stomach.

"That's all you needed from me, right? The judging?" she called sharply on her way out. "In that case, I'll see you guys in class." I heard the apartment door slam shut.

And then she was gone.

Rokim and I looked at each other. "What was that about?" I asked confusedly.

"No idea," he responded quickly.

Lisa glanced at him cryptically, then shook her head. "Wow. Prodigy my butt," she murmured ruefully, with a sad little smile. "You're seriously blind as hell."

"What was that?"

"Just offering my score for the dish!" she chirped brightly. "The taste is definitely as good as Rian's, and your cooking style is obviously very personal. Lots of meaning, you know?" She gave me a wink, and darted her eyes not-so-subtly to Rian. "I give it a ten!"

Her phone suddenly pinged, interrupting her. She held up a finger and picked up, walking to the corner of the room to speak comfortably.

I turned to Rokim, the last judge. I was very aware that his score would be the deciding factor in determining the winner of the contest, but I didn't let it show. Rian drew up beside me, and his proximity brought fresh heat to my face when I remembered my display with Lisa on the counter earlier.

Like a freaking dog in heat.

Rokim set down his fork, and I leaned forward in anticipation. Rian was drumming his fingers against his crossed arms again, and that only fed into my nerves. I wanted to win.

I needed to. Desperately.

Rokim opened his mouth to speak. I breathed in sharply, apprehensive but all-too-eager to hear what he was about to say.

"Guys!"

Lisa's voice interrupted my intense focus. Our eyes collectively shot to her distressed ones. "We have to go," she said urgently, her face pale.

I frowned. "What? Why?"

Her eyes roved around agitatedly. Her hand dug into her short blonde hair. She'd been completely cheerful just a second ago, but now she was visibly distraught.

Dread welled up inside me, and I hated that the feeling was so horribly familiar.

"It's Prof," she said quietly. Her tone was grave, and it made my blood run cold. "He's been in an accident."

Shit.