Page 33 of Your Rule to Break
Me
noooooo
What am I going to do? You can’t go to a two-person cooking class alone—it’s quite literally designed for people to cook together.
don’t go alone and don’t cancel
invite your new mans
I roll my eyes but it is my best bet on short notice. Zack should be wrapping up practice any minute. It’s a Tuesday night, and I know tomorrow is his day off—this is kind of perfect.
Since it’s time sensitive, I hit call next to his name, which he’s edited to add a blue heart and the sweating emojis. He had the eggplant at the end and that’s the only one I removed. As soon as Zack answers the phone, I ask, “Hey, do you have plans tonight?”
I can hear the wind whip outside; he’s probably walking to his car as he says, “No plans. Unless it’s dinner with your family, and then I am very busy. With things. Important things I could never reschedule.”
I let out a real laugh and put my hand over my mouth.
“No, not dinner with my family. How do you feel about a cooking class?”
“What a perfect way to celebrate our one month anniversary!” he says on the other line but I can’t tell if he’s kidding or not.
We walk into thecooking space, and the reactions are perfect. This is the last class of three, and people typically come with their partner. Keegan and I signed up for this long before Zack and I were… whatever we are, and people expect me to walk in with her, not Zack Andersen, golden boy from the Upstate Cosmos.
I point him to our station where everything we need for tonight’s dish is ready and waiting. Zack makes it a point to introduce himself to the six other couples before settling next to me. A wave of pride washes overme with each handshake, each selfie he takes, and every person he makes smile. Zack is like a ray of sunshine wherever he is.
Our Chef, Beau, who currently cooks at a Michelin restaurant in the city, is French and walks in like Zack may as well be Keegan and claps his hand—bringing the room to attention.
“Yes, Chef,” the room calls back, and Beau laughs. It’s definitely a joke but it never gets old. Zack looks at me, like I didn’t let him in on a critical piece of information. I give him a smirk and a side-eye, as he stands razor straight, his entire focus on Beau.
“Today, we’re conquering cacio e pepe. Yes, it’s an Italian dish, but so many people in America get it wrong, the Italians will not be offended by this Frenchman teaching you to get it right.” He rubs his hands together.
“We’ll start with a generous pour of Chablis, the purest of the Chardonnays. Now, you may be thinking, Chef, is there wine in the pasta sauce? And I’d say, cheese-us Christ, the wine is for drinking!” He picks up his glass, some of the white wine sloshing up the rim, and the room laughs. “Forgive the pun, I couldn’t help myself. Cacio e pepe translates into cheese and pepper. The wine is for pairing and enjoying yourself while cooking today.”
Zack follows suit and opens the bottle of wine waiting for us, pouring each of us a glass.
“Cheers,” he says, handing me a glass before clinking his into mine. When he wraps his arm around me, I hold my breath. His hand rests on my hip, and I melt into him as Chef Beau goes through an overview of the recipe.
My cheeks feel like they’d be hot to the touch, being this close to Zack. No matter how many times it happens, I’m always a little nervous. Kind of like when you first start dating someone, and you’re testing out the PDA waters.
Zack dips down slowly and whispers, “This is way better than our last date.” He puts a period on the sentence in the form of a kiss on my cheek. His lips are full and like velvet on my skin.
Now I'm back in the hallway at the bar when he told me “the first time I kiss you won’t be in front of any of your old fuck friends.” Like it was inevitable.
My stomach flips as I think about what it’d be like to have those lips on mine. On other parts of my body. Would he kiss me slowly and leisurely, or would it be delectable chaos?
Emilie, quit that.
I take a long drink of wine to try and cool the flames in my belly.
Chapter 19
Zack
Did I think acheese paste would be part of my plans tonight? No, I didn’t. But when Emilie called, I couldn’t say yes fast enough, especially because I was supposed to get dinner with my dad but he had to reschedule.
“A cheese paste? What the hell is that?” I whisper as I ask Emilie what Chef is talking about. Apparently, cacio e pepe is a real dick to make, and many people end up with a clumpy, cheesy mess.
She laughs and playfully shoves me in the ribs. “Listen, he’s going to tell us.”