Alex glances at me with a bored stare, brow knitting together in what might be confusion or might be irritation. Hard to tell.
I keep going, though, undeterred, because I can’t help myself. Once I get going, I stay going.
“I mean, not that I need crayons. I’m a fully capable adult... Mostly. But there’s something super nostalgic about coloring a little horse or playing tic-tac-toe while waiting for food, you know? Or an apple tree. Or scribbling all over one of those little kid menus that has a maze on it that’s almost impossible to solve.”
I take a sip of water, nodding to myself like I have made several excellent points, and wait for his response. Knowing something like this has to draw out at least a small laugh, even if it’s at my expense.
But still, absolutely no reaction comes.
Okay, fine.New approach.
“So… where did you say you’re from?” I ask, unsure if he didn’t answer at all or if I happened to miss it while spiraling.
He looks at me again, slower this time. “I didn’t.”
“Right. Of course you didn’t,” I say quickly, deciding to take a page out of Kara’s book. “That would require talking, which you are clearly saving for a very special occasion. If you tell me where you’re from, I’ll gladly send you an official, written invitation to conversation.”
RaeAnn lets out a soft cough that sounds suspiciously like she’s choking back a laugh.
Alex opens his mouth as though he might respond. Something shifts on his face like he appreciates my sarcasm.
And that is the moment when my elbow catches the edge of my drink and the world slows down around me as the glass tips. Water sloshes and then spills, cascading across the table and straight toward Alex.
“Oh my God,” I blurt, grabbing a napkin that is immediately, uselessly soaked. “I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I swear I’m not usually this much of a disaster. Well, okay, I am… but not in public. Or at least not on purpose.”
I stand halfway out of my chair, dabbing at the table with the already dripping napkin, doing absolutely nothing to help the current situation but not knowing what else to do.
“I don’t know why I’m like this. I get nervous, and then I talk, and then I move too much, and then suddenly there’s water everywhere and—wow—this is really not making a great first impression, is it?”
I finally look up at him, mortified. Whatever amusement he found for me is gone. “Sorry. I get super chatty when I’m nervous. God, aren’t you nervous?”
“No,” he replies. “Why would I be?”
“Oh.” I blink, a little dumbfounded, and sit back down. “Okay. Well, that must be… nice.”
He tilts his head, studying me carefully, and I realize he’s waiting for me to go on.
I gesture vaguely between us. “You know. Social situations. New people. The crushing desire to be liked. The constant internal monologue that never shuts up. Oh, and the massively important baking show we all officially start tomorrow. Any one of those would be enough.”
He gives me absolutely nothing in response—just his cool, icy eyes that slice right through me. I let out a small huff of nervous laughter.
“Huh. Well, consider my flabbers thoroughly ghasted then. I thought we’d all be a couple seconds away from a panic attack, but I guess it’s just me.”
Alex’s lips twitch.
It’s a brief, barely-there reaction that’s gone almost as soon as it appears.
But I caught it. And oh, Alex.
Oh, I see you now.
CHAPTER 6: ALEX
After what will go down as one of the worst nights of sleep I’ve ever had, it’s barely dawn, and I’m sitting uncomfortably in the first row of the show’s passenger van, waiting to be ushered to the set.
The other van already left for our destination, but here we sit, idling endlessly. I lean forward, clearing my throat to address our driver. “Hey champ, what are we waiting for? We should’ve left with the others.”
“Apologies, Mr. Harrington—”
