Part 3The Private Chef: Serving Up Boundaries

Liam and I met during our junior year of college.

It was purely by chance. I was broke and trying to pay for textbooks, so I started making homemade panna cotta and selling it out of my dorm room. Business was surprisingly good.

Through my little side hustle, I ended up adding a lot of people on campus to my Snapchat.

Liam was one of the people who bought my desserts. When I delivered his order, he stopped me and asked:

"If you can make panna cotta, can you cook real food?"

I was surprised, but I nodded.

Growing up poor meant learning to take care of the house early. I wouldn't claim to be a Michelin-star chef, but I could definitely throw down some solid, home-cooked meals.

Liam just grunted in approval.

"Make me a few dishes. I'll pay you."

When I walked into his dorm, I realized he wasn't in the standard, cramped student housing. He was living in the luxury, off-campus student apartments. Three bedrooms, a massive living room, and he had the entire place to himself.

He said the dining hall food was garbage, and he was sick of ordering DoorDash every night. He wanted someone to cook him a decent lunch.

I made him three classic, home-style dishes. When he ate them, he didn't say much, but he Venmo'd me twenty bucks.

Making twenty dollars just for cooking a quick lunch on campus? I was thrilled.

After that, Liam started asking me to cook for him regularly.

Every time I cooked, he sent me money. When he was in a good mood, he'd randomly Venmo me a hundred or two hundred dollars. Eventually, he got tired of sending individual payments, so he just started sending me a flat thousand bucks a month to handle his lunches.

But he wasn't always at his apartment for lunch. Over the course of a month, I probably only ended up cooking for him a dozen times.

Honestly, it was Liam's money that got me through college without drowning in student loans.

Because of that, I practically viewed him as my savior.

So, when graduation rolled around, I tracked him down, nervously asking him:

"Liam, now that we're graduating... do you still want me to cook for you?"

Liam looked at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. Finally, he let out a scoff.

"Whatever. But Avery, make sure you remember your place. You're just a private chef who cooks my meals."

I didn't catch the underlying sneer in his words. I just nodded happily.

"Okay!"