Chapter 10: Curry

She shook her head. “You’re my guest. Just sit and relax.”

I did as she said, perching on a stool by the counter and watching her work. Her movements were confident but unhurried, and it was clear she knew her way around the kitchen. She told me about her camping trip as she cooked, sharing stories about her friends and their misadventures.

“On the second night, we all swore there was a bear nearby,” she said, laughing as she added a handful of spices to the pot. “Turns out, it was just a raccoon going through our snacks.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Sounds like quite the adventure.”

“You would’ve loved it,” she said, glancing over at me with a smile. “The stars out there were incredible. Next time, you should come.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Next time?”

She shrugged, her smile softening. “Yeah. Why not?”

She plated the curry with practiced ease, placing a steaming bowl in front of me along with a stack of freshly toasted naan bread. “Dig in,” she said with a grin, sitting across from me and pouring two glasses of water.

The flavors were incredible, each bite warming me from the inside out. I couldn’t help but let out a satisfied hum. “This is amazing. Like, restaurant-level amazing.”

She leaned back, a smug smile tugging at her lips. “I told you. Cooking on fire during camping trips isn’t my only specialty.”

After dinner, we headed to her room. She grabbed a throw blanket from the corner chair and gestured toward the bed. “Movie time?”

I nodded, taking a seat while she flicked through the streaming options. We settled on something action-packed, though I couldn’t have told you the name of the movie if my life depended on it. My attention wasn’t on the screen—it was on her.

Irene didn’t waste much time. As the opening credits rolled, she leaned closer, her hand brushing mine. I glanced at her, my heart thundering in my chest, and before I could say or do anything, her lips were on mine.

The kiss was electric, all-consuming, as if the few days apart had been centuries. Her hands cradled my face, pulling me closer, and the world outside her room faded into nothing. Every nerve in my body was alive, buzzing with the intensity of her touch.

We shifted, her weight gently pressing me down onto the bed. My mind was a blur, dizzy from her scent, her warmth, her everything. I felt like I was floating, completely lost in her.

Hours seemed to pass like minutes, and when we finally drifted off to sleep, I noticed something strange. Despite the closeness we had just shared, Irene didn’t cuddle or lean into me as we lay there. Instead, she settled near the wall, putting as much distance between us as the bed allowed.

I lay there in the dim light, staring at the ceiling. The contrast was jarring—her passion and intensity during the evening, followed by this almost deliberate space. It felt odd, and I couldn’t stop the questions from swirling in my mind.

Was she uncomfortable? Was I reading too much into it? I decided not to dwell on it for now. Morning would bring clarity, and I could ask her then.

The soft light of dawn peeked through the curtains, rousing me from a dreamless sleep. Irene was already up, the faint sound of clinking dishes drifting from the kitchen. I stretched, pulling myself out of bed and padding toward the source of the noise.

She stood at the counter, her hair slightly mussed, flipping something in a pan with practiced ease. The smell of coffee and toasted bread filled the air. She glanced up as I entered, her smile instantly easing the knot of uncertainty that had formed in my chest the night before.

“Good morning,” she said, gesturing toward the table. “Breakfast is almost ready. Coffee’s already there.”

I sat down, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Breakfast is important,” she said firmly, sliding a plate in front of me. Poached eggs on avocado toast, some tomatoes and mozzarella. “Besides, I enjoy it.”

The memory of her pulling away the night before lingered in my mind, but her warmth now made it hard to voice my concerns. Instead, I focused on the food, letting the simple yet delicious meal ground me.

As we finished eating, I gathered the courage to ask. “Irene, can I ask you something?”

She raised an eyebrow, sipping her coffee. “Of course.”

I hesitated, my words catching in my throat. “Last night… after, you seemed distant. Is everything okay?”

Irene’s expression softened, but there was something guarded in her eyes as she set her cup down. “Yeah, about that,” she began, her tone careful. “I think I should be honest with you.”