“And now we’ve come to the end, where Mason smiles wistfully at Harper when he thinks the cameras aren’t on him.”
I didn’t know about that part until the video debuted. Did it make my jaded, Grinch-like heart a little mushy? Maybe.
Brandon scoffs under his breath, probably irritated that our families have basically ignored the fact that Sadie was in the camera shot too.Barelyin the shot, as the cameras were focused on Mason. And Mason was focused onme.
Sadie, however, doesn’t seem to mind. She sits with us, happy as can be, sweet smile on her face.
We did well yesterday. Our cookies turned out as planned despite our rough start. They tasted great, the texture was perfect, and they looked beautiful. As Sadie described them on the mandatory judge’s questionnaire, they’re an old-fashioned favorite with a scrumptious, modern twist.
Now, all we can do is wait. Unlike on the show, we don’t meet judges at this stage. All the cookies will be tasted, marked, and then the producers will inform two lucky teams that they’re going to the actual bake-off at HBN’s holiday lodge in Colorado.
Two teams out of fifty-six.
Sure, our cookies were good. But I’m not holding my breath.
I’m startled from my thoughts by a text. It’s the same area code as before, but the phone number is different.
Lauren leans over. “You have the strangest look on your face. Who’s the text from?”
I angle the screen toward her so she can take a better look.
“Will you think badly of me if I admit I pulled your number from the entry forms?” she reads aloud and then looks up, an incredulous look on her face. “You don’t think it’s…”
“No.”
Riley stops the video and looks back at us from over the arm Linus has slung over her shoulder. Her eyes are as wide as an owl’s. “You have to answer it!”
“Fine.” And though I try my best to appear calm and collected, my skin is humming with delightful anticipation. What if itisMason?
And why do I care? Good grief—I spoke with him for thirty seconds.
I ask who the anonymous texter is, and then I set my phone in my lap like I don’t even care if Mason—or whoever the person is—answers.
Twenty long, agonizing seconds later, my phone chimes again.
I’ll give you a hint: I’m sure you’re decorating my poster right now.
Oh. My. Word. No one else heard us, and I haven’t told a soul. Those words were between us alone. It is Mason.
But no.
No.
“Well?” Riley demands.
All I can manage is a blank stare. My mouth works, but I don’t seem to be talking.
“It’s him!” Riley squeals, jumping up and dragging Linus with her.
She jumps up and down with her arms wrapped around his waist, and he laughs. With a brow raised, he asks, “Should I be worried?”
She grins and leans in close, whispering something in his ear. He turns bright red and glances at us to see if we heard. When he realizes he’s in the clear, he whispers something back, and she laughs, hugging him.
I look away and turn my phone over and over in my hands. They’re so happy.
Jealousy—it’s a nasty creature.
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Riley demands.
