His arm muscles flexed as he pressed against the dough in quick, repetitive motions. I didn't know this could be so attractive, but damn, watching someone knead bread hot.
"Can I try?" I asked.
"Try what?"
"Kneading the bread."
He looked at it for a second. "Sure."
I hopped down and started walking around, but he said, "Wash your hands first," before I made it too far.
After washing twice, since apparently the first time wasn't long enough, Marcus stood aside and let me stand in front of the mostly formed dough.
"Have you ever done this before?" he asked.
"No."
"Okay. You want to do it like this to build the gluten structure."
He stood next to me, our arms touching with how close he got. Marcus demonstrated by pressing the dough forward with his hands, stretching it before pulling it back towards himself, and repeating the process.
"I think I got it."
I positioned my hands on the dough the same as him and gave it a press. I was surprised at how much tension there was, considering Marcus looked like he was moving it with ease.
It didn't take long for my arms to tire and it to feel difficult. "How long do you have to do this for?"
"Ten to fifteen minutes," he said.
"Damn, I don't think I can do that."
He smiled. "It takes getting used to."
I tried for a few more minutes, but my arms quickly gave out. "I think I'm all done."
"I've got it," he said.
I backed off and let him knead the dough, but stayed close the way we were. He didn't seem to mind as he kept going. It wasn't clear to me what made him stop, but once he seemed satisfied, he scooped it all back into the bowl, covered it in plastic wrap, and left it on the counter.
He then proceeded to wash everything alarmingly fast. Before I knew it, the entire kitchen was as spotless as it always was.
"Can you just put the flour back in the pantry?" he asked. "It's obvious where it goes once you're in there."
"Can do," I said, picking up the jar and walking it towards the pantry. When I turned the light on and looked, I was so shocked I almost dropped the flour.
I'd never seen something so perfectly organized. There wasn't anything in there that didn't have a place, or a containerwith its own special label. Shelves and shelves of organized baking goods, spices, and snacks. I'd never seen anything like it.
And he was right, there was a single gap in the second shelf that this jar obviously fit in. I slotted it in its place.
"Find it okay?" Marcus asked, making me jump.
"Yeah," I said. "It's very… organized in here."
"Good, that means Joon hasn't gotten his hands on it."
"What does that mean?"
He sighed, though the slight smile that touched his lips was clear. "Joon enjoys coming in here and moving my stuff around."
