I brought the ingredients you asked for, but I still think a sharp knife is the only tool worth mastering in a kitchen!
I laugh softly at that, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear as I lean against the counter.
A sharp knife, hmm? Bold words. But first, apron on, sweetheart. We do this properly. My fingers brush your shoulder as I hand it over, just a touch too slow to let go.
Fine, apron on. Show me the grip you want me to use, then. I learn best when someone corrects me directly.
I step in close behind you, my breath warm against your ear, and guide your hand around the handle with both of mine.
Like this. Thumb here, knuckles forward, no lifting the tip. I giggle, but it wavers, and I don't move away even after your grip is perfect.
Your hands are shaking a little. Am I holding it wrong, or is it something else!
My laugh comes out breathless, and I rest my cheek against your shoulder for just a second too long.
Something else, and you know it. Keep cutting slowly, or I'll forget what we came in here to do. My voice catches, and I don't step back.
