"You know," Eve began, taking another bite of the delicious muffin in front of her, "I used to bake with my granny when I was younger. She was the one who taught me everything I know about baking."
His eyebrows lifted in surprise, his interest piqued. "Really? I never would've guessed. You've never mentioned that before."
Eve smiled softly, her thoughts drifting back to the warm memories of her childhood in her grandmother's cozy kitchen. "Yeah, but I'm nowhere near as good as you. I mean, look at these," she gestured toward the beautifully crafted pastries on the table. "Mine would probably end up as... rocks or something," she joked, chuckling lightly.
Vincent leaned forward, his gaze holding hers, "Why don't we bake something together, then? Let's see if you've still got it," he teased.
Her heart skipped a beat at the idea, excitement bubbling inside her. "Okay, let's go!" she replied without hesitation. Her voice brimming with enthusiasm.
Together they moved to the counter, where ingredients were already laid out.
The familiar sounds of the kitchen began to fill the air—the rustling of flour bags, the clinking of bowls, the soft hum of the oven warming up.
Eve felt a spark of energy, her hands began to mix the flour and water to form the dough. She worked the mixture with her fingers, smiling to herself as the smooth texture began to form.
"Vincent, is this how the dough should be?" she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder.
Vincent had been preparing other ingredients nearby. Then, he came over to check. But instead of standing beside her, he moved directly behind her, his tall frame pressing gently into her back.
Her breath hitched in her throat. Eve could feel the heat, his presence enveloping her. His hand reached out to the dough, brushing against her fingers. The subtle contact sent a shiver down her spine, and she froze. Her heart beating rapidly in her chest.
"You're doing it right," Vincent murmured, his breath warm against her ear. He took her hands in his, guiding her movements as they mixed the dough together.
Eve could barely concentrate, her mind clouded by the closeness of him. The way his hands felt over hers—strong, steady, and warm. Her cheeks flushed, heat rising beneath her skin. She was flustered, her thoughts spiraling.
How does he make something as simple as baking feel so... intense?
"Yeah... now we're done," His voice broke through her reverie, pulling her back to the present moment.
Eve blinked, realizing they had finished the dough. "Oh, right," she stammered, a bit embarrassed by how easily she had been lost in the moment. "Thanks, Vincent."
Together, they rolled the dough and began cutting out shapes. It was a lighthearted activity, one that brought laughter and smiles to the both of them. Eve carefully crafted a heart-shaped cookie, while Vincent—ever the joker—created a lumpy, poop-shaped one.
"Seriously?" Eve laughed, shaking her head. "That's your masterpiece?"
Vincent grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "What? It's got character."
Her laughter rang out, filling the kitchen with warmth.
They placed the cookies in the oven to bake and waited, chatting easily. But the playful mood didn't last long. Eve immediately grabbed a handful of flour and threw it directly at Vincent's face.
The flour exploded in a white cloud, coating his dark hair and features. For a moment, he stood still, blinking through the powder. "Oh, you naughty Eve!" he said with a smirk. His eyes narrowing as if planning his revenge. "Now you're going to pay for that."
Before Eve could react, Vincent grabbed a handful of flour and lunged toward her, pulling her into his arms. He rubbed the flour all over her head and face, laughter spilling from his lips as she squealed in surprise.
"Vincent! Oh my God!" she shrieked, flailing her arms in protest. But there was no escape as he continued to coat her in the flour, his laughter ringing through the kitchen.
Eve grabbed the entire flour container and—without hesitation—dumped it directly over his head. The flour rained down on him, covering his hair, his clothes, everything.
Now it was her turn to laugh uncontrollably. Tears formed in her eyes as she watched him stand there, covered from head to toe.
Vincent, however, was not the one to give up. With a determined look on his face, he grabbed the empty flour container and chased her around the dining table.
Eve ran, her laughter echoing through the room as they circled the table, dodging chairs and leaping over obstacles like children. They were just two people, laughing, chasing, enjoying the simplicity of the moment.
Finally, Vincent caught up to her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back toward him. Flour dust hung in the air, swirling around them like snow. They stood there, both breathless from running.
"You... are impossible," Eve managed to say between breaths, though her grin betrayed her words.
Vincent laughed, his dark eyes twinkling. "You started it."
"And you're going to clean this up!" Eve shot back, still smiling.
"Fair enough," Vincent replied, his voice softening. "But you've got a little something here." He reached out, and with the gentlest touch, he brushed a smudge of flour from Eve's cheek.
Her breath was caught again. Her pulse quickening at his touch. The way his eyes softened as they traced her face, the way her body leaned slightly closer, almost unconsciously drawn to him.
Was this really happening? Her cheeks grew warm, and Eve couldn't decide whether to step forward or pull away. She had never been this close to Vincent, not like this, and it was thrilling and terrifying all at once.
On the other hand, Vincent's gaze never left hers. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, something raw that made her heart ache. He wanted to say something, she could feel it—something that he was holding back.
But just as the world seemed to pause around them, her senses were jolted back by a smell—something burning.
"Our cookies!" Eve gasped. She quickly pulled away from Vincent, her thoughts scrambling as she rushed to the oven.
The warmth of his touch was instantly replaced by the heat radiating from the oven door.
Eve flung the door open, and the smell of charred dough filled the room. She grabbed an oven mitt and pulled the tray out, placing it on the counter with a wince. The cookies—now dark and burnt.
She couldn't help but laugh despite the mess. She looked over at Vincent, her grin wide. "Seriously?" she said, gesturing to the tray. "Look at your poop-shaped cookie now. It looks even more like a poo, now that it's completely burned!"
Vincent smirked, his eyes lighting up at her laughter. He walked over, leaning against the counter, surveying the damage. "I guess I've mastered the art of realism then," he replied with a mock serious expression, pointing at the charred blob that was once his cookie.
Eve burst out laughing, the sound genuine and light. "Realism? Oh please, that thing couldn't look more like actual—"
"Careful," Vincent interrupted, "I might take offense. That was a work of art."
"Art?!" Eve gasped between laughs. "Vincent, you couldn't have made a worse cookie even if you tried!" She reached for the misshapen piece of dough and held it up between them as if presenting some grand exhibit.
Vincent chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, I'll admit defeat. But let's be honest, this was your fault. You were the one who distracted me." His tone was teasing, but there was an undeniable warmth behind his words.
Her brows were shot up, "Oh really? I distracted you? I think you were the one getting all... touchy with the dough and making a mess of things."
Vincent leaned in slightly, his gaze locking with hers again, "You don't seem to mind when I get touchy."
Eve felt her cheeks flush again, but this time she didn't pull away. Instead, she held his gaze. "You're right, I didn't mind."
Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, her mind spinning. Was this it? Was something finally happening between them after all this time? There was a deep tug at her heart. She hadn't expected this, and yet, here they were, caught in the moment, on the cusp of something new.
Vincent's hand reached out again, this time brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. His fingers grazing her skin. The tenderness in his touch made her chest tighten. He was so close now, his presence overwhelming her senses, and for a split second, she wondered if he was going to kiss her.
But just as the tension peaked, Vincent pulled back slightly, his smile returning, though it didn't quite reach his eyes this time. "I guess we've officially ruined the cookies," he said, his voice lighter again.
Eve let out a soft breath, "Yeah, I guess so," she replied, her voice quieter now. She glanced at the tray, then back at him, "But hey, we had fun. And that's what matters, right?"
Vincent chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, fun and flour everywhere."
"Definitely," Eve said, her eyes twinkling as she gestured to the flour-covered kitchen. "And I'm not cleaning this up on my own."
Vincent reached for a rag to start wiping down the counter. "Alright, alright, we'll clean up the battlefield together." He paused, glancing at her with a soft smile. "But next time, we bake without the distractions."
Eve smirked, her eyes meeting his with a knowing glint. "Next time, huh? I'll hold you to that."