From my first day at Saint Delacroix College of Culinary Arts, I knew that jerk was going to ruin my life. Asher Lennox. He's the kind of guy who always has something to say, who walks into a room like he's the star of the show, and worst of all: he cooks like the universe owes him something.

And how much I hate him. Because no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I give it my all, he's always there. Tying my score, earning one more compliment, making me grind my teeth with every arrogant smile.

Our dream is the same: to open a five-Michelin-star restaurant. But the universe, with its twisted sense of humor, seems determined to cross our paths at every turn.

Today, Professor Morel announced that the final project of the semester will be in pairs: we must create a completely new dish, an unprecedented gastronomic experience. And yes, of course, everyone rushed to pair off as if their lives were at stake. And guess who was left without a partner? Exactly. Me… and him.

I saw him from across the room. He looked at me. I looked at him and rolled my eyes. And we both knew God had abandoned us.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm not happy about this either," he said, leaning closer as if the ground wasn't worth his stepping on. "Perfect. We have something in common," I replied with a fake smile while swallowing the urge to put salt in his coffee, ruin every meal for the rest of his life, or stab him.