I flipped an omelet! Sure, there are several eggshells on it and half of the egg whites have fallen to the floor, as I smashed the poor eggs with far too little care. But I count all of my victories and use the defeats to learn. Not to mention my unskillfulness has almost made Gwyn giggle, I swear I saw the sides of her lips go up for a few seconds. And I own that much to the girl for a handful of reasons. Like me being an ass, and nosy, and a nosy ass (even if she didn’t notice or care).

“Be sure to gently press the omelet with the spatula, that way if there is any uncooked egg inside it will surface. That is especially useful when it’s a thicker omelet.” She explains.

Gwyn has been explaining to me every step of basic cuisine. She unnecessarily started adding words like “gently”, “delicately” and “with caution” after I smashed that one egg. I think she is making fun of me. Or she is implying I have to control my brute force if I want to cook. Maybe both. But I’ll let her mock me for a while.

“My dad always made cooking look so easy.” I flip the omelet again, it’s a bit scary to throw food like that, but it’s fun. “He nonchalantly just cut things, then add some spices, put it all together et voilà food is ready.”

And it really is, I put the dish on a plate, Gwyn adds some basil on top of it and hands me the ketchup to decorate it.

“Good job. Let’s see if it tastes good too.” She is getting cocky.

We dig in and it’s not half bad, you know, for my first omelet ever.

“Now I won’t starve to death anymore. So, what’s the next challenge, teacher?”

“Mashed potatoes are pretty easy. Rice, beans and salad too.”

“You will teach me how to do salad? Seriously?” I wear an almost offended expression.

“If I ask you to prepare a salad of seven different things for a dinner, would you know what to put so it has a harmonious taste, is nutritious and looks good?” She wears a smug one.

“Point taken, know-it-all.” I’m annoyed, but smiling. “I really don’t feel like peeling potatoes, so how about rice?”

“Start by measuring how many cups you put in the rice wash basin.” She points at said thing. “Wash it with plenty of water and rub the rice against your hands.” I follow my orders. “To prepare soft and non-glued-together rice you want to put two cups of water for every cup of rice. And never completely close the lid of the pot when it’s boiling, or you’re gonna have water spilling all over. Now let’s cut the garlic.”

“Did your dad teach you to cook?”

“Yes. Father taught me a lot useful of things.”

“Like what else?”

“Like how to speak eight languages other than english.”

“Holy cow!” I almost cut my finger. “You fluently speak nine languages?”

“My mandarin is not really all that fluent.”

“You’re not gonna tell me you also won first place on the nationals of some martial arts championship or such, right?”

“I never participated in competitions, but I probably am on the same rank as a black belt in Judo.”

I can’t even continue to cut the damn garlic. I just stare at her in disbelief and laugh. This girl is really full of surprises.