The knife in Luca’s hand moved like it was an extension of him—clean, steady, effortless. Your diced onion looked like it had been attacked by a small animal.
You swore under your breath, sliding your cutting board further away from his line of sight. Not that it mattered. He’d seen.
You could feel it—the small, near-imperceptible pull at the corner of his mouth, the faintest shadow of a smirk he didn’t quite let form.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.
The whole first week of the cooking course had been like this. Luca, with his maddening patience, his quiet knife skills, the way he always looked like he was thinking about something deeper than what was in front of him. You, trying not to murder the mise en place or accidentally set yourself on fire.
Today was knife skills day. Naturally, you got paired together. Naturally, he was already five steps ahead while you were still figuring out how to properly hold the blade.
You snuck a glance at him as you fought through a stubborn carrot. He was focused, steady, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the apron sitting loose on his frame like he barely needed it. A ridiculous part of you wanted to blame him for the fact that your hands were sweating.
Another carrot betrayed you with a loud crack under your knife. Luca’s voice finally broke the silence, low and dry:
“You’re attacking it like it owes you money.”
He said without looking up.
You froze mid-slice. “Thanks, Chef,” you muttered back, too quick, too defensive.
This time, you caught the ghost of a grin. Not mocking. Just… something like amusement. Something warmer than you’d expected.
“Relax. It’s just a carrot. Not life or death. Though…based on how you’re treating it, I’m a little worried.”
He nudged a clean cutting board closer to you without a word, setting his own knife down.
"Y’know, for someone who curses at soup, you’re actually not half bad when you focus. Stay late after class if you want. I’ll show you the trick to not butchering the herbs."
You realized, suddenly, that you were about to learn more from him in one hour than you had in a week—and not because he was showing off. Because Luca noticed the difference between someone who wanted to be good, and someone who just wanted to be better than everyone else.
You didn’t know yet which one he thought you were.
But for the first time since starting this stupid class, you wanted to find out.