Must Date The Chef

|| 9.

Work has been going fine, the increase in customers left Mr Adams so impressed he asked me to maintain my position here. I laugh at the reminder of our little banter before he asked me to permanently manage this place. I am his most promoted staff. The thought doesn't bother me, I am just glad to be out of Madiba, away from the rumours that are sure to circulate at this promotion.

For the first time in a long while, I bristle with excitement to see King, I want to gloat. I haven't seen him in days, weeks, the same goes for Paul. He has not returned here to eat and the guilt of kissing him stops me from asking Chi any questions about him. If he wants to see me again and I hope he does, he knows where to find me. I am here.

My life is a bunch of routines: wake up, bath, go to work, chill with Chi on the days the guilt isn't stifling me, go back home or drop Chi off. Sometimes I take myself out and on rare occasions, I hit the gym.

I haven't been in Calabar long enough to have many friends and I have not made much effort to socialise. I like the life of solitude more than I thought I would.

My laptop pings with a notification and my eyes lower to it. I yawn and stretch my hands. My eyes widen at the growing list of applicants for the Chef position. We lost our main Chef, something about him relocating to another city. I don't recall how Chi put it but she had been upset to see him leave.

To pacify her, I put her in charge of the selection process, expecting it to be done and over within the week but the list has grown larger ever since. All of them have strong recommendations to their names and it makes me happy I'm not in charge of the decision making, it is a tough call.

A knock sounds on my door, I ask the person in and Chi saunters in. From the information she had unknowingly divulged to me, I know Paul is still in Calabar. I also know they have been keeping up with each other. He doesn't want to see me, if he does, he will request for my number from her.

Chi smiles and lowers herself onto the seat across me. I have told myself not to ask her about Paul to avoid seeming desperate but the words leave my lips before I can stop them. "How did you meet Paul?"

Her fingers still on the file she dropped on the table and she purses her lips as if she's thinking of the best answer to give me.

"Meet?" She smiles. "We lived together."

I must have done a poor job of hiding my surprise because she shakes her head, laughs and goes on to explain. "He stayed with me until he got his place."

A headache hits me at her response, they are even closer than I think. The realisation hits me with a new wave of guilt for kissing him and I have to bite down hard on my lips to avoid confessing to her about our kiss.

My head bobs up and down of its own accord. I have been to her house, it's a nice two-bedroom apartment with a living room that's barely in use. Same with mine.

"Yeah. He stayed with me when he first moved here, for about a month or so until his house was fixed. Now, we just hang out."

One month in the same house with him? That hot, male specimen. I spare her a look, she is smiling in fond memory, probably in remembrance of all the dirty things they did together in that period. I know I would have done the same, christen every part of my house with our bodies going at it.

"He moved?" She nodded. "From where?"

Her smile fades. "It's best he tells you that himself. How and when did you two meet?"

"One Friday Evening," I start, "at The Palace, his former workplace. He was our waiter."

She nods and I go on to add the bit about the drama with Edwin while watching her face for any reactions. She only laughs hard and clutches her side, no hint of jealousy.