"À votre succès!" Olivier shouted in his natural French dialect, raising his glass to the rest of the table. We all cheered; officially making our table the loudest on the rooftop terrace. Nineteen baking students overjoyed about our upcoming graduation celebrated by all being a little too drunk. Chef Olivier decided to take us out for a very fancy meal to one of the few restaurants in town that actually had his stamp of approval. We were all very impressed. Me included. I wasn't much of a drinker, but as he sipped from his toasting glass, I was finishing my second whiskey sour.
It had been, for lack of a better word, a grueling year; the hard studying, the long nights, the dreadful exams, the fears of failing, Olivier's rugged teachings and methods. But also, trying to keep my eyes and gazes to myself for a full year was really the hardest part. It was no secret how attractive Olivier was. But it's the intimidating personality that came with those hunter green eyes that made me uneasy every time he'd pass behind us, behind me, watching, observing our every move, making sure we had been following the class thoroughly. He was a very cut throat teacher. He was intimidating beyond reason. He was a very young teacher but was named best in the country two years in a row. He was innovative, fresh, hardworking, almost on an obsessive level. And I believe that the reason I had finished among the top in my class wasn't just to hopefully receive Magna cum laude, or to even have the opportunity of working in one of the most prestigious restaurants of the city. It was to please him. To be acknowledged by him, even for a short moment.
Seeing him so relaxed in this friendly environment was almost unsettling. He was actually smiling, laughing. That smile, I thought. I remember catching a glimpse of it during our chocolate sculpting semester. The smile had been for another student of course; she had managed to impress him using unique chocolate petals and a bit of molding chocolate to transform the initial art theme into something completely different and new. She had been daring. He respected that. It was deserving of the rare Olivier smile. But that smile lingered, making everyone, including myself, envious of her for succeeding in getting his approval within the first week. I was lucky enough to have been in the line of fire when he looked up, his eyes locked on mine, those curled lips slowly fading back to serious Olivier. It wasn't my first time blushing in his direction, but I was afraid it had been the first time he noticed.
I was staring at that smile again, watching him exchanging friendly banter with some of my colleagues seated closer to him. I envied them. I envied their aloofness. I was almost thankful I wasn't sitting next to him; I might have had to hide my blushing face for the entire supper. He was practically my age but there was this presence about him.We all knew it. Some hid it better than others. I was almost relieved that my default personality was wallflower. I wasn't drawing attention to myself. Maybe a part of me wanted that acknowledgement, though. I hadn't noticed he had left his seat.
"Dans la lune, mon cher Julian?" Olivier teasingly exclaimed, knocking me out of my daze as I felt hands on my shoulders. I froze. Everyone looked in my direction, grinning. Busted, they thought. Blood rushed to my cheeks in a matter of seconds. "Huh?" was all I was able to mutter on such short notice, slowly tilting my head to meet his gaze.
"Head in the clouds?" he leaned in closer to my face and smiled. I had never been so close to the man and it practically frightened me. It took all my strength to keep my composure. His touch was light, friendly, unthreatening, yet I could feel my heart pounding. Please don't let it show, I kept repeating to myself. I managed to say the only thing I could think of to not sound like a babbling idiot.
"I was wondering if the desserts here are up to par" I smiled back. I felt one of his hands squeezed a bit more.
"Are you doubting my expertise?" His tone was almost challenging, cocky. I could smell the vermouth on his breath he was so close. If I had been further from him, perhaps the other side of the street, a moan would have escaped my mouth. Or more daring, I would have kissed him then and there. I immediately regretted my response and thought of a million better ways I could have answered him back. Had I questioned him and therefore challenged him in some way? Was I not one of his favourites anymore? Was this the last smile he was ever going to send my way? Was I obviously tipsy and making all this up in my head? I wanted to apologize for doubting him, but something came over me. Maybe the same inebriation that had gotten me into this mess was courageous enough to get me out of it. I chose the daring route, contrary to my intuition, which was screaming at me to keep my mouth shut.
"I wouldn't dream of it," I started. "But my steak was a little overdone" Shots had been fired. Yes Jules, keep digging your own grave. I was sweating through my shirt. What in my right mind pushed me to make such a bold yet stupid statement? My colleagues were gasping at the oddball talking back to Chef Olivier either in awe or in condolence, knowing it'd be my last night alive.
"I taught the head baker here. I did not teach the head chef. If your dessert is sub par Julian, I will personally come to your house and bake you something myself" was his response. He had trained the head baker... Fuck.me. He knew he wasn't baking me anything. He knew he'd have me eating my words with a spoon. But entertaining the idea of him in my home... in my kitchen... just for me... was enough to not make me want to stand up for the next few minutes. I do believe everyone at the table was envious of the gauntlet he had just thrown right at me. But we all knew how wrong I was. How I'd have to kneel and apologize for doubting him, him probably thinking of a way to embarrass me or teach me a lesson. Olivier proceeded to walk to the washrooms.
"What in god's name were you thinking?" laughed out Laura, my colleague seated to my left. "Do you have a death wish?" she asked as she took a gulp of her white wine. Maybe I did. Death would have been a sweet release right then and there. I thought I was being daring, now I was worried I had insulted the man. I guzzled down the remainder of my drink and ordered a third. And a fourth.
When desserts arrived, all eyes were unfortunately on me. I was still mentally kicking myself. The dessert was perfection. Beyond perfection. Every bite was excruciatingly delicious. My colleagues were waiting for my response. Then for Olivier's reaction to my response. Everyone tuned in like it was the last episode of a never-ending jaw dropping series. "Alors, Chef Julian? Your verdict?" Olivier stared straight at me, taunting me. This was of course all in good fun, but I do believe he had, as do all head chefs and head bakers of the trade, a certain sadistic kink in watching, no, admiring their students squirm and shit themselves. For some reason, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction. It might have been the fifth whiskey sour talking. I couldn't think of anything to say that would make me look good. In a bold and yielding move, I took my empty plate and as if waving a white flag and surrendering to the stronger team, I gave the plate one long lingering lick, picking up the rest of the passion fruit coulis that remained. This was my way of saying of course you were right, now let me not insult you by leaving anything on the plate but my glossy reflection. He lightly smiled and gave me a look. Surprisingly the people applauded and we all laughed at the whole thing. But that look stuck in my brain. Had he seen something I was subconsciously sharing with him? The look suggested he had seen a side of me he wasn't expecting would come out of the shy guy in class. I have to say I was pretty proud of my move as well. I was a bit too drunk to acknowledge my trembling legs under the table. Liquid courage is an understatement.
The end of the night was approaching. Our table was the last to leave the restaurant. It was around 2 AM and five of the nineteen students remained. I was a bit too drunk for any kind of public transit so I opted for a taxi.
"Let's share one!" a tipsy Olivier suggested to Gwen, Danny and myself. Olivier wanted to make sure we all got home okay, which he felt was natural for a teacher. We crammed ourselves into the cab and started our itinerary. First one dropped off was Danny, who lived about 15 minutes away from the restaurant. He had obviously been the drunker one of all of us yet still maintained balance and was able to walk into his apartment building without falling over. We applauded from inside the car. Next up was Gwen.
Then me. I was dreading thinking I might have been the last one in the cab with Olivier. The evening had been so light and kind to me already, why not make it even more awkward and uncomfortable for yours truly? Olivier didn't hold the evening's main event against me. Instead he asked me where I planned on applying after school. He was curious to know what subjects interested me more. We chatted a bit, and then there was this silence. The alcoholic courage was wearing off but I figured being alone with him, away from everyone, in a cab, after a nice evening and both of us being a bit inebriated, it was now or never. C'mon, make an ass of yourself. You're never seeing this guy again. Be ballzy one last time. But he spoke first.
"I was amused by your cockiness tonight. I had never seen that from you in class." he was smiling. He was smiling at me. My heart melted. I didn't know what to say to that, except return his smile with a smile. I looked down.
"I'm usually not as daring. I have a tendency to second guess myself all the time," I replied. "Liquid courage is truly a thing" I tried laughing. He looked at me.
"You shouldn't second guess yourself. I saw how bold you can be when you put your heart into something. Why do you think you were the only one to get 100% in the second to last exam? You dared to try something and it paid off." He was looking right into my eyes. I gulped. He had noticed that. I had been quite proud of that exam. I risked big during that exam... he had noticed... seeing that grade had made me overjoyed.
"I didn't think I was worthy of that grade for a minute"
"Si. Tu était très digne de cette note (you were very deserving of that grade)" he was now serious. "Apprends à ne pas douter de toi même. Tout le monde y gagne" (learn to not doubt yourself. Because when you don't we all win) I looked up at him to notice a bit of redness on his cheeks. I believe the alcohol had gotten to him too. I was blushing for other reasons. I almost felt he was daring me to test out my self-doubt right about now. I was probably way off.
