“That’s it, Tavi. Reach on down there and grab that raw chicken thigh.”
I’m kneeling, sitting on my heels as I inspect the problem,in a freaking skirt, but I look up and make a pouty face at the camera. “This is why people shouldn’t eat meat.”
Dylan’s face twists in amusement. His warm brown eyes smile at me—I know your secret, Tavi Lightly—and he clears his throat. “Guess you could add this to your list of reasons.”
“Grab the raw chicken, Octavia,” Gigi orders.
“Touching meat is against my religion.” I shake my hands out and make myself huff a few times. “But fine.Fine.Ew.So gross.This is, like,disgusting. Ew ewew!”
“It’s a public service, Octavia.”
If Gigi says my name one more time, I swear to God, I will throw this raw chicken thigh at her.
I reach a hand down to the open pipe, where there’s fleshy raw chicken clearly stuck. I can just see Captain America’s hand sticking out on one side of the pink meat.
And I take a calculated risk.
I should not do this.
I shouldn’t.
I poke at the chicken, and it honestly makes me gag.
Raw chicken is gross.
Especially when it’s been sitting in toilet water for God only knows how long.
“Quit poking at it and remove the obstruction from the pipe, Octavia.” Gigi’s getting impatient.
And I’mdone.
I grab the chicken, gagging again, and I yank.
Hard.
It doesn’t budge.
I yank again.
Nothing.
“How do you get a grip on it?” I squeal.
Yes.
Squeal.
The camera’s rolling.
I can’t help myself.
When I move to Costa Rica, I amneverstepping in front of another camera in my life, unless it’s tobe myselfand show how we grow and make chocolate.
“Might try some—” Dylan starts, but it’s too late.
I’ve grabbed that chicken, and it’s coming out of the pipe.
I gag once more.
