Page 76 of Strictly Against Policy

“I’m not doing anything,” she quipped, looking up at me from the thin sheet of pasta she was trying not to rip.

I laughed, laying out my finished pasta sheet flat. I grabbed a knife the brewery had provided us for the cooking class and started sectioning it off. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Lina eyeing me. A smirk pulled on my mouth, thinking about how she had to start the rolling process all over again. She didn’t dust her dough with enough flour, and it got stuck in the roller.

“I told you I’m the better cook,” I said.

“No, you’re not,” she bit back.

I hummed, dusting my dough sheet with double-zero flour before feeding it to the fettuccine cutter. My pasta came out in smooth, silky strands. Our instructor walked over with a wide grin.

“That looks like perfection, Jonathan!” she said.

I looked over at Lina, smirking. She scoffed, attempting to handle her pasta sheet as delicately as she could. The frown on her face spun tighter as she continued rolling out her dough. She cranked the handle of the silver pasta roller with one hand, while the other fed the pasta sheet into the machine. It’s like an endless cycle to achieve the thinness the recipe requested.

The instructor turned to my girlfriend. “Lina, just take it easy, okay? Your pasta is looking just as amazing. If you need help handling the sheets, just let Jonathan know. He seems to be quite the expert.”

Lina plastered a smile on her face. “Thanks.”

I snickered as our instructor went on to compliment or help at other tables. “Did you hear her? I’m quite the expert.”

She scoffed. “Mine’s just as perfect as yours.”

I shrugged. “Sure thing, Lina. With that big, gaping hole in your dough sheet, I’m sure you’d be eating plenty.”

She stopped everything she was doing to glare at me. I tipped my chin down and raised a brow, taunting her. Her lips parted to utter something when our instructor interrupted her.

“Jonathan, why don’t you go and help Lina? She looks like she’s struggling a bit.”

I flashed Lina a wide, toothy grin. A flash of anger bolted across her eyes as her lips pursed into a pout. I let a light, gleeful laugh slither out of the deepest crevices of my chest.

“Gladly,” I said, tossing my fresh fettuccine in flour.

I quickly stepped over to her side of the table. An icy, unbothered frontier froze over her expression. I slid the back of my hands under the pasta sheet where she was feeding it into the roller, brushing my touch over her hands lightly before she pulled away. Not a single word was muttered as she continued to crank the pasta roller until her dough sheet was thin enough.

We allowed the silence to settle between us for a moment before I broke it. “I could be working on my sauce now, Lina.”

“If you’re going to help me, I prefer you don’t talk.” Her words came out in a low hiss.

I hummed. “Sounds like someone’s being spiteful because I’m better than her.”

She began cranking the pasta through the machine faster, forcing my hands to move quicker. If not for my quick reflexes, the roller might’ve crushed the tips of my fingers.

“I’m not spiteful, and you’re not better than me.” She gave me one look before continuing. “You’re just better at following directions.”

This ignited amusement across my skin, tipping the corner of my lips into a smirk. “Oh?”

She blinked slowly. “Did I hit a nerve, Jonathan?”

An easy laugh fluttered out of me. “Is that what you wanted?”

She shrugged, not a single crack of emotion on her face except for the fire blazing behind her dark eyes. “Am I wrong, then?”

“I suggest you try to prove your point first.”

She raised an arched brow at me, tipping her head in the direction of my perfect pasta. “Teacher’s pet,” she said in a low hiss.

I tipped my head, my smile tilting into a wry smirk. I leaned in, towering over her with a light whisper. “I love it when you wear bitterness on your beautiful face, Lina. It really brings out that breathtaking sparkle of desperation in your eyes.”

She silently watched me as she continued to crank her pasta sheet through the roller. The corners of her lips tipped upwards rebelliously. When she was finally finished with her pasta, she jutted her jaw toward my stove with a competitive air around her.