“Probably the same reason you go by Liv,Olivia,” he says, emphasizing my name. “So I guess we’re here for the same date then.”
“By the look of the flowers you’re holding, it looks like you’re going to a funeral, not a date,” I say, nodding to the white chrysanthemums in his hands.
“I’m still mourning the loss of my cocktail bun,” he says solemnly. “Since you’re my date, these are for you. Sorry for your loss?” He holds the flowers out toward me slowly. “Is there a better flower I could’ve gone with?”
“I personally prefer peonies, but it’s, what do they say? It’s the thought that counts. Thanks.” I tentatively reach for the bouquet and tuck the flowers into my bag. “Why are you not wearing salmon? That’s coral if I’ve ever seen it.”
Bennett looks at his shirt. “This is most definitely salmon,” he says. After a moment, he adds, “I know this is weird, but I think we should stay. Let’s start with a clean slate. I’m Bennett. You’re Olivia slash Liv slash Bakery Girl.”
So he nicknamed me, too.
“You can call me Olivia. We can stay, but I’ll start with the questions. What do you do for work?” I ask, not wanting to waste any time. I need to squeeze everything I can out of this man.
Bennett looks slightly startled. “Uh, I’m actually the founder of ZodiaCupid. That’s why I think we should stay,” he admits. “My algorithm is good.”
“Wow, your algorithm has taken the place of fate, huh?” I say. He’s probably also someone who looks in the mirror and tells himself he’s handsome. “I had no idea you were the founder of the app we matched on.” Little does he know, I’ve read every single press release ever published about him and his company. And he doesn’t need to find out. Playing ignorant might get me more information.
“I guess you couldn’t look me up because of my name. Or lack thereof.” Bennett rests his foot on the base of the stool. “My algorithm works, and I trust it. There’s a reason we keep meeting. And you’re interesting in a weird sort of way.”
I put a hand over my heart and give him a mock-serious look. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Bennett laughs. “That came out wrong. It could’ve just been me, but I felt like we hit it off at Lucky Monkey. I realized after I should’ve asked for your number. And now you’re here.”
Before Bennett can say anything else, the instructor claps her hands to capture the class’s attention. She welcomes everyone and explains that we’ll break into teams and make one of the recipes on the board. Bennett and I are assigned mooncakes. When we push off our stools to find a spot near the stove, I’m reminded of how tall he is standing next to my five-foot-four height. He’s in dark blue jeans that slightly hug his thighs, the cuffs folded above his light brown leather boots. Put together, yet casual. At least the man’s consistent.
We claim the space next to the team assigned with egg tarts. Bennett and I awkwardly make eye contact as we move around each other. I remind myself that I’m doing this for love and for the greater good of single people everywhere.
Bennett reads through the recipe, whispering the list of ingredients out loud as he compares it to what’s provided in the ingredient bucket on the table. I stare at him in suspicion and pleasure thathe’sthe one here in front of me.
He pulls up an image on his phone and tilts the screen so I can see. “I think we should follow this recipe instead. I can attest that they’re the best mooncakes. Similar ingredients, slightly different process.”
I bristle at his confidence. “Why do you have that on your phone? You couldn’t have known we were making mooncakes tonight.”
“I looked up the class beforehand and pulled recipes for all of the potential desserts. I’ve made mooncakes before and happen to have my own recipe. I have a one hundred percent success rate with this.”
I put my hand on my hip in defiance. “Well, I’ve made mooncakes, too, and I think we should follow the class recipe.” His line from the press release about how traditions were meant to be broken echoes through my mind. “It looks like some of the steps have already been started because of time constraints.”
“You don’t want to try it my way?” Bennett asks with a look of surprise. “Iknowmy recipe works. This other recipe doesn’t even have the salted duck egg yolks in it.”
I don’t want to try anything his way, dating app or otherwise. “It’s out of our control. We paid money to be here, to make the mooncakes the cooking school’s way,” I say, pushing back. “If they’re not as good as yours, then you can gloat all you want.”
Bennett’s jaw clenches, but after a moment, he slides his phone into his pocket. “Sure. We’ll do it your way,” he says, a hint of annoyance detectable in his voice. At least he’s finally agreed. “How about we get started and see where it goes?”
“Let’s try to get through the steps without it being too weird,” I say, secretly pleased. I should not feel this satisfied at unnerving him. “This recipe says we should start with the syrup, but that’s already been done. So we should do the dough.”
“I think we should start with the filling,” Bennett counters. “It looks like the teacher already started boiling the presoaked lotus seeds so we can finish that up.”
Oh for Cupid’s sake! We’re not even five minutes in, and we’re already going head-to-head. I wrap an apron around my waist. “Like I said, we should follow the steps. They’re written in this order for a reason.”
“Recipe instructions are meant to be reinterpreted,” he says, hooking his apron around his neck.
I sense a theme. “How about this? You do that while I get the dough going.”
“You don’t want to follow the recipe together?” he asks. “Isn’t that the point of a date? Doing things together?”
I reach for a towel, cringing slightly at his use of the worddate. “Right, but it’s not as efficient. We can get a couple steps done at once if we divide and cook.”
“Here.” Bennett brings the food processor over from a shelf and plugs it in. He checks the simmering lotus seeds and drains the liquid, adding them to the food processor. As they whirl together, a smooth, thick mixture forms. Bennett looks as though he’s memorizing every texture and scent. He scoops the mixture into a pan and sets the heat to medium low. “See? Now that’s done! We can follow the rest of the steps together.”
