3 The hottest French guy

Chapter 3

Turns out the French Blondie was the same age as me, an only child to rich parents. The hot French guy, twenty five, has a younger brother. They both finished a course in whatever it is they said.

Right now we are all in the limo heading to Restaurant de Paris. I can't wait.. I take the opportunity to stare in awe at the streets of Paris, while the others talk in the language I don't understand.

"We have arrived." Mr Gustav says.

Wow! The restaurant was so big. I had read about it in the previous year. It was established by Antoine Gaspard. He started out by cooking for family gatherings. From there he was encouraged by an uncle to be the cook for his for a dinner he organized for his investors. One of the investors tasted his food and was willing to invest money and help him open his very own restaurant because he was apparently that good. It was a dream come true for him. After the paperwork had been done, he decided to open his restaurant here in Paris because it had been where he met his wife. The restaurant was a success and till this day even after his death, his son still manages it well and is a five star and one of the best in the country.

We made our way to the entrance. If you thought it's exterior is beautiful, just wait till you see the décor inside. Stunning. No words can best describe it. As we marveled at the sight, a woman who looked to be in her forties approached us.

"Good morning interns. My name is Claudette, and I am the manager of this restaurant. I hope you all had a nice rest last night. Anyways come this way and we would discuss further about your internship." She gave us a tight smile and led us to a room. Thank God she spoke in English.

"Please have a sit." We all sat. "I believe you read the requirements for this program and will not have to go over it. This is a paid internship meaning you'd be paid €1000 every month. Now that we've established that, let's go meet everyone."

She led us to a back are that look like the kitchen. Yep I was right the kitchen. I have never seen something so beautiful. This was my dream kitchen. There were a lot of staff here and they were all working. She then proceed to call some people.

"Interns, this is Mrs Estelle, the head chef." She points to a lady and she nods in our direction. "Here is our head Waiter, Mr Marius." She pointed to an elderly man. " And last but not least Mr Nathan Gaspard. He is grandson to the founder of this restaurant and assistant head chef. He is equally the owner and so you are answerable to him and what he says goes."

Remember when I said Raphael was the hottest French guy I have ever seen? Well that was a BIG lie. Nathan was the hottest French guy ever. From his black hair to his heterochromic blue and grey eyes– to his chiseled jawline, and toned physique. The epitome of perfection. Like a greek– ok I think you get the picture.

"They would be in charge of you guys. Today you would learn how to wait tables and tomorrow you will all wait tables in the evening. Waiting tables is not difficult but please pay attention. Oh and before I go, any slip up from any of you and off you go, back to where you are coming from. Jouir." (Enjoy)

And she strutted out of the kitchen.

Mr Marius turned to us, "Par ici." (This way)

We follow him to the dining area in the restaurant and we all take seats. He explained everything we needed to know. In French, might I add. I pretended like I understood all he was saying while Eliza wrote it down in English and pass it to me.

I was hopeless in French. Just saying.

I'm not really interested in waiting tables. All my attention is back at the kitchen. I could see them from where I'm seated. The way they put so much thought and effort to what they were cooking. I so can't wait till I am in the kitchen cooking and learning new dishes. I kept looking in there unknown to me that my eyes had wandered to Nathan. The way his moved with so much charisma. He paid rapt attention to whatever it was he was preparing. I couldn't help but notice how he stuck his tongue out a little in concentration.

I kept staring until he looked up and our eyes met. We maintained eye contact, none of us giving in to the other. Then he did something unexpected. He smiled-more of smirk and then continued what he was doing.

What was that?

I turn back to the Mr Marius, and continue to listen to the dreaded language I could not speak nor understand.

This will be a long day.