Chapter Four – Stirring the Heat
The next morning, sunlight streamed into the academy's dining hall, bouncing off the tall glass windows and filling the room with a golden glow. Amira sat at one of the long wooden tables, her notebook open but untouched. Her pen hovered over the page, idle. She wasn't thinking about recipes. She was thinking about him.
Daniel.
She hated how much space he occupied in her head, like a song she couldn't stop replaying. The memory of his low laugh, the brush of his fingers against hers, the way he leaned in like he knew exactly how to get under her skin—it was maddening.
"Daydreaming, Amira?"
The teasing voice snapped her back, and she glanced up to see Layla sliding into the seat beside her. Layla, with her easy smile and warm brown eyes, had been one of the first people at the academy to make Amira feel welcome.
Amira shut her notebook quickly. "Just… thinking about last night's lesson."
"Sure you were," Layla said, raising a brow. "Funny, because the only thing people were talking about after class was you and Daniel. Honestly, the tension between you two could have boiled the pasta without the stove."
Amira groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Don't start."
But Layla only grinned wider. "I'm not starting anything. I'm just saying—if I had a rival who looked like that, I'd be distracted too."
Before Amira could fire back, a familiar voice carried from across the hall.
"Well, well, if it isn't my favorite sparring partner."
Amira stiffened as Daniel strolled over, his confidence practically radiating off him. He set his tray down directly across from her, ignoring the fact that there were plenty of empty tables.
"Don't you have anywhere else to sit?" she asked flatly.
"Not when the best company is right here," he shot back smoothly, flashing a grin that had already charmed half the academy.
Layla bit back a laugh, clearly enjoying herself far too much. "I should probably leave you two to… whatever this is." She winked at Amira and slipped away before she could protest.
Daniel leaned forward, his elbows resting casually on the table. "She's not wrong, you know. People can feel it when we're in the same room."
Amira rolled her eyes, picking at the edge of her notebook. "What they feel is irritation radiating from me."
"And yet," he said softly, his gaze holding hers, "you're still here."
The intensity in his eyes made her breath hitch before she quickly looked away. She hated that he was right. For all her sharp comebacks and annoyed glares, she hadn't walked away from him once.
Chef Marco's booming voice cut through the dining hall, saving her. "Attention! Today you'll be cooking in pairs again—but this time, you won't choose your partners. I will."
Groans and whispers spread through the room. Amira's stomach tightened as Marco began reading out names.
When he finally said, "Amira and Daniel," she swore she saw Daniel's grin widen like the universe itself was on his side.
Amira muttered under her breath, "Of course."
Daniel leaned closer, so close she could feel his breath stir against her ear. "Looks like fate agrees with me, sweetheart."
She swallowed hard, her pulse racing faster than she wanted to admit. This wasn't just rivalry anymore. It was something far more dangerous—something she wasn't ready to name.
And the worst part? She wasn't sure she wanted to fight it anymore.
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