Chapter 61

Sarah's

POV

After the fair, things between Richard and me felt... different. We were still trying to figure out whatever this was, but I wasn't carrying that old weight anymore.

It was like, for the first time, I was actually seeing the side of him I'd always hoped to see. There was no tension, no carefulness, just us being us. And it felt good.

A few days later, he showed up at my door with a grin, holding up a small flier for a cooking class.

"Cooking class?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Since when do you cook?"

He shrugged, feigning casualness, though I could tell he was nervous. "I figured, if I'm going to make it up to you, I should at least learn to make something better than instant ramen."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, Chef Richard. Let's see what you've got."

The cooking class was in this cozy, little kitchen downtown, where a cheerful instructor greeted us with aprons and a kitchen full of ingredients.

The place smelled amazing-garlic, herbs, and fresh bread. I looked over at Richard, who was carefully tying his apron, eyes darting around like he was trying to figure out what exactly he'd signed up for. "Ready?" I teased, nudging him as I grabbed a knife.

He gave me a confident smirk. "I've got this. Just watch."

We started on a simple pasta dish, chopping vegetables and stirring sauces, the instructor giving gentle reminders about not burning the garlic or overcooking the pasta.

But Richard, of course, was determined to go big or go home.

"Here, let me add a little more oil," he said, pouring what seemed like half the bottle into the pan.

"Uh, I think that's enough," I warned, trying not to laugh as he raised an eyebrow, still so sure he was right.

"Trust me," he replied, swirling the oil around like a pro. "I've got this."

to sizzle... then pop, then-fwoosh-a small flame

at the flames as if they'd

for long. "Nice going, Chef Ramsey," I snickered. "Next time, try not

"Yeah, yeah.

quickly put out the small flame, giving him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "Just a little less

But every so often, I'd

of the class, we somehow managed to plate a decent-looking pasta dish, and as

your debut as a chef?" I asked,

Maybe I'm not

I

this warm, easy laugh that made my chest feel lighter than it had in a long time. "Good to know I didn't poison you," he replied, his tone

into a relaxed conversation, one that felt natural, like two

his eyes would meet mine, and I'd feel a little flutter in my chest, a quiet thrill

out of the class, still laughing over his "master chef" attempt, Richard cleared his throat,

back of his neck. "You mentioned it once,

surprised he even remembered. "Karaoke? Really?

"Maybe I need a drink or two first, but...

later, we were at a karaoke bar, a

small crowd was gathered,

ahead," I teased, nudging him toward the stage. "Show me what you've

way. You first. I need to see how

list. Settling on something easy, I sang a little pop tune, laughing as I got the crowd to sing along. When I came back to the table, he was clapping, giving me

I said,

took a deep breath, glancing around the room as if he was about to face a firing squad. "Fine," he muttered, standing up. "But don't

laugh, trying to look

made his way up to the stage, flipping through the song list. Then, with a grin that told me he was trying to look cool, he selected a goofy '80s song, something ridiculously

of rhythm, swaying awkwardly, and his voice was...

loving it. Halfway

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