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My first kiss with Zayne wasn't a romantic, once-in-a-lifetime moment—full of flowers, candles, and classical music in the background. It was something that made us laugh whenever we remembered it—but nothing less memorable nonetheless.
It was in the afternoon when I was cooking in his kitchen—the silent environment, other than the flicker of the stovetop and my knife slashing through the cabbage, filled the room. The medium-sized pot was simmering a clear, golden chicken broth with flakes of spring onion inside.
I was navigating the kitchen smoothly, already knowing the spices or equipment I needed as if it were my own space. Zayne was in the living room—a call from Greyson had needed his attention, even when he was on his day off, it didn’t make him any less busy.
My hands were fast, dumping the finely ground chicken and shrimp meat from the chopper into the bowl—a dash of soy sauce, fish sauce, Worcestershire sauce, ground pepper, flour, and egg white went into the bowl, and I mixed them thoroughly. Then, as a final ingredient, I threw the finely chopped cabbage into the mixture.
I was holding a sheet of dumpling skin before filling it with a dollop of mixture and folding it nicely to make a gyoza. I smiled as I saw how cute and pretty it had turned out—the hand that mostly held a weapon to slay wanderers had turned out to be capable of producing something so cute.
I kept doing the same thing until all of the filling in the bowl was gone, as the ready gyoza lined up on the plate in a straight row.
Once in a while, I turned my head to see whether Zayne had finished his call or not—and I tilted my head when he wasn’t in sight. Maybe it was a long discussion. I pouted, unable to wait to show off the gyozas to him.
As I was too focused on putting the gyoza into the simmering pot, I was startled when I felt a pair of hands circling my tummy. I turned my head and tilted it upward to see Zayne staring at me.
"Almost done?"
"Hmm." I nodded, swaying our bodies to the side as he led me side to side.
"They’re so pretty, just like the maker." Zayne chuckled at his own sheepish words.
I stared at him with a frown, then laughed with him. "Do you even hear what you just said?"
His hands on my tummy tightened, his knees bending so his chin could rest on my shoulder.
"Zayn—" My words stopped when I turned my head and accidentally brushed my lips against his.
Our eyes widened. We weren’t strangers to a hug, a cuddle, or a peck on the cheek—but a kiss on the lips was something else, and he had never pushed it.
I fell to the floor and covered my eyes with my hands—my face was red, and I took a deep breath and chuckled. This wasn't the first kiss I had imagined.
On the other hand, Zayne was standing with his back to me, his right hand covering his mouth—his eyes were closed too.
"Babe—" he called me, putting his hand on my shoulder, "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to—"
I chuckled a little and buried my face in his chest, his hands finding their place on my back. "No, no, it’s okay." I stared at him with half-lidded eyes and a flushed face, resting my chin on his chest, then my gaze fell to his red lips.
They were warm, plush, fluffy, and soft, just like I had always imagined them. I closed my eyes again in embarrassment—at the absurdity of the situation.
My first kiss.
"I know we are always of the same mind, but I can’t believe we also had the same thought to turn our heads," he said, resting his cheek on my crown.
"If we weren't meant to be, then I don't know what to believe anymore." I said as my hand reached behind me to turn off the stove, then slipped to his nape. Unconsciously, I stood on my toes, and Zayne leaned his face down. We closed our eyes as our faces grew closer, and we felt each other's breaths. As the darkness engulfed me, I felt his lips press against mine again.
This time, for a long time.
Gyoza was long forgotten.