Kei and I banter as we make our way back to the Bunkhouse, and it feels right. He’s so much more consistent than Isa, and it will be easier to manage our relationship if we have the same goal. Yes, if I’m being honest with myself, I have a small, pesky crush on Kei, but that’s no big deal. A crush is just a lack of information. Once I get to know him better, I’m sure he’ll do something to turn me off—something even worse than wearing jorts—and it will be even easier to focus on winning. A little crush isn’t cause to burn it all down. There’s just too much on the line.
Chapter Sixteen
I ’m clapping and cheering louder and harder than I ever have. My enthusiasm is next level. Gabby looks chill in comparison to me.
And it’s all for Sue-Ellen and Isa, who have just been named bunkmates in our last Bunk Shuffle before we settle into our chosen couples tomorrow.
It’s surprisingly easy to muster so much excitement for those two. Isa was wholly unbothered when I told him I wanted to get to know Kei, and I can’t help but feel relieved that I don’t have to pretend to tolerate him anymore. And the potential is high for Girl Drama between Sue-Ellen and I, so maybe this will diffuse the tension.
Kei squeezes my waist gently, one of his fingers slipping under the hem of my top. I feel a little jolt directly to my nethers, but I can’t let that distract me. He is a means to an end. I just have to repeat this to myself, make it my personal mantra, to get us right through to the finale.
“Let’s hear a final round of applause for our newest bunkmates!” Natasha screeches. “Trina and Garrett! Harmony and Giovanni! Cleo and Kei! Valeria and Damian! And Sue-Ellen and Isa!”
We jump around and hug one another, until Gabby directs us to the Chore Board. Kei and I are on food prep, which means figuring out what’s for dinner, and getting it ready so at dinnertime it comes together quickly.
“I’m not much of a cook,” I tell Kei as we take stock of what we have for ingredients. The shelves aren’t totally bare, but there’s not much. Shouldn’t someone be in charge of keeping the fridge stocked?
“It’s okay, I can teach you.”
“So you have more in your repertoire than just pancakes?”
“I should hope so. I’m a line-cook in the real world.”
“Is that like a chef ?”
“Not really.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Hmmm,” Kei says, pulling the plastic wrap back on a hunk of cheese and sniffing it. “All grunt work, no glory. But I know my way around the kitchen.” He puts the cheese on the counter. “We’ve got bacon, eggs, parm, and spaghetti, so let’s make spaghetti carbonara.”
“As long as you take the lead, that sounds great.”
He laughs. “It’s pretty easy. But there’s not much prep involved, so let’s do a dessert, too.”
“You also bake?”
He shrugs. “Sometimes I help out in the pastry kitchen when they’re short-staffed. Let me just check to see if we have flour.” He ducks back into the storeroom and emerges a moment later holding two canisters, one of flour, one of sugar. “We have flour, sugar and eggs. If we have butter, we’re in business.”
I open the fridge and find a block of butter. I hold it up, triumphantly.
“Perfect. I know a really good shortbread recipe, should we do that?”
“Oui, Chef.”
Kei rolls his eyes and laughs. He shows me how to pinch the butter into the flour and sugar until it’s like sand. Then he cracks in an egg and works it with a rubber spatula until it comes together in a smooth dough.
There’s a lot of cuteness going on. Kei is such a natural flirt—standing behind me to help me mix the dough, cracking an egg with one hand and a wink, putting his hands over mine to help me bring the dough together. I’m being equally sparkly, smiling and laughing and touching him at every opportunity. I know we look good together.
“Here,” he says, pinching off a little ball of dough and holding it out to me. “It’s delicious.”
“Won’t that give me salmonella or something?”
“You survived the Protein Period smoothie, you’ll be alright.”
My face flushes as I remember our encounter in the bathroom. The trail of dark hair on his smooth, taut stomach…
“Go on,” he says, nudging the little mound of dough closer to my mouth. Without thinking, I wrap my lips around his finger and suck the dough off. I look up at his face. It has gone slack, and his eyes are dark and serious. He holds my gaze for a long moment.
