It’s fine. I can outdo myself.I always did.
But what if I didn’t? What if I performedworsethan I had in the past? Would it be the start of a slippery slope downhill? When did I start second-guessing myself so much anyway?
I’d sailed through my teen years and twenties with the assurance of someone who was used to winning. Even when I lost—usually to fucking Sebastian—I brushed myself off and got right back up. I never considered the possibility that my setbacks would be permanent.
I was in my early thirties now, and the sudden negative mindset shift worried me almost as much as the prospect of failure.
I opened my to-do list and tried to figure out what to check off next. I’d just settled on reviewing some new ad creatives when the door swung open, and Sebastian walked in carrying a large brown paper bag.
“That was fast,” I said. He’d only been gone for twenty minutes.
“I didn’t dine in.” He placed the bag on the table and opened it. The savory scent of broth and noodles billowed across the table, and my stomach let out an embarrassing rumble.
Sebastian retrieved a black takeout bowl and pushed it toward me. “Eat it while it’s hot, or Harumi will personally hunt you down. The ramen shop owner,” he clarified when I raised my eyebrows. “He normally doesn’t do takeout since it affects the taste and texture of the noodles, but since you were being your annoyingly stubborn self, he made a one-time exception for me.”
His tone was dry, and his expression held a trace of exasperation. That didn’t stop a wave of warmth from cresting in my stomach.
I couldn’t stand it when Sebastian acted like a normal, decenthuman. I much preferred when he was being an ass.
It was easier to hate him that way.
“Don’t read too much into it.” It was as if he’d heard my thoughts. “No one has ever had a bad meal when they’re with me. I won’t let you ruin my perfect record.”
“Maybe they were just too polite to tell you your recommendations suck.”
Sebastian’s eyes sparked with a mix of humor and challenge. “Then try it and tell me what you think.”
I did, and dammit, it wasgood. Better than good. The rich broth, the perfectly chewy texture of the noodles, the balance of flavors—it was the best ramen I’d ever had.
I glared at Sebastian’s knowing smile. I was tempted to spite him by lying, but I also wanted to devour the rest of the bowl immediately.
“Don’t say a word.” I pointed my chopsticks at him. “This is sustenance. That’s all.”
“Your commitment to denial is adorable.”
“Keep it up, and you’ll be wearing this ramen soon. Let’s see what Harumi has to say aboutthat.”
Sebastian laughed, but he took the hint and stopped provoking me.
We ate quietly. This was much better than eating a sad salad alone, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right.
Our relationship had changed, but it hadn’t changedthatmuch.
“Do you remember when our school hired that new chef our junior year?” Sebastian broke the silence a little while later. “I’m pretty sure he was the reason for Fasting Friday. No one wanted to eat his lasagna.”
“Which was why he was fired in record time.” I shuddered at the memory of his bland, runny pasta. “He was pretty horrible.”
“His replacement wasn’t that good either. You’d think theywould’ve served us better food, considering how much they charged for tuition.”
“I guess the top chefs weren’t interested in catering to a bunch of teenagers in Switzerland.” I twirled a noodle around my chopsticks. “Honestly, the school should’ve hired you. Even as a teenager, you cooked better than most of the professionals.”
Sebastian’s brows arched. “Was that a compliment, Sal?” He sounded amused.
Heat scorched my cheeks. “It was the truth. I can give credit where credit’s due.”
Cooking was one of the few areas where I didn’t bother trying to compete. My talents in the kitchen were limited to a handful of dishes, and I liked eating food way more than I liked preparing it.
“I always thought you would become a chef,” I said. “I didn’t see you going into marketing.”
