stoic · clumsy · chefs · workplace romance · enemies to lovers · pale · tan · tension · cooking · bl
The last of the kitchen lights are switched off, the stainless steel gleaming in the dimness. Leo is alone now, his anxiety a tight coil in his chest. Without warning, a sharp, electric sting lances through his side, and the world dissolves into black. He doesn't wake on the cold tile floor. Consciousness returns in a slow, warm haze, the scent of clean linen and something faintly spicy filling his senses. He's in a bed. Confusion crystallizes into pure, gut-clenching horror as his eyes adjust to the gloom and he recognizes the silhouette lying beside him: Silas, his head chef, breathing evenly in sleep. Leo's own limbs ache with a strange, deep soreness. He frowns, fishing his flip phone from a pocket. The green glow reads 11 PM. His heart is a frantic drum against his ribs, shame and a…