I scoff, raising my palms in irritation. “If there’s something specific you’re looking for, I’d really prefer you ask directly. I’m not good at filling in the gaps. Be direct. Or pick someone else and leave me alone.”
“Okay, that’s fair. Let’s try this then. What are your thoughts on Taylor?”
Of course, he asks about Taylor. She didn’t just get under my skin, she has everyone in the room melting into her goodness.
“Taylor is…” I pause, searching for the right word. “Ambitious, to say the least. She’s reckless and disorganized, and she needs to make sure she doesn’t bite off more than she can chew if she wants to survive this competition.”
Joe leans back slightly at my honesty, but a slow smile plays at his lips, like he can see through my words to everything I didn’t say.
That Taylor’s brand of chaos is intriguing. Magnetic.
That everyone loves her, and her laugh is an infectious melody that lingers in my head against my will.
That what she lacks in technical skill, she more than makes up for with charm and charisma.
That she is dangerous to me—far beyond this competition.
CHAPTER 9: TAYLOR
If I thought the tent was loud with frantic bakers and whirring appliances, I was wildly unprepared for the volume of our shared house at night. Music blasts from the open-concept space below, the bass vibrating through the floor beneath my feet.
The suitcase I tossed haphazardly next to my bed sits half-unpacked when my roommate, Lila, sets up a ring light in the middle of our shared bedroom.
“You don’t mind, do you?” she asks, already clipping her phone into place.
I smile her way. “Not at all. You record a lot, and I love that for you. Do you have a big following?”
“You could say that,” she says brightly, flashing a smile at her screen. “Hey guys! Day one in the Bake-Off house and I’m already obsessed.”
She pans the phone around the room, narrating everything. The exposed beams. The trio of beds, where hers is aesthetically staged with decorative pillows she must have brought from home, a notebook, and a rainbow of pens. Then there’s me, sitting cross-legged on my mattress with my hair in a messy knot and a bag of pretzels open beside me.
“This is Taylor,” she says, plopping down on my bed beside me. “She’s literally sunshine in human form.”
I laugh, giving the camera a small wave. “I don’t know about that, but hi, everyone.Holy crap, Lila, there are already over a thousand people in this live!”
Lila beams, her eyes sparkling. “I know, and we are just getting started! But seriously, guys… this girl right here is constantly smiling. When I walked past her this afternoon, when all hell was breaking loose in the kitchen, she was just humming to herself in her own little world. How cute is that?”
“I didn’t even realize I was doing that,” I admit, glancing away from the camera, suddenly a little embarrassed.
“Exactly. That’s why it’s adorable. And we all love you.”
Our third roommate—Chloe, quiet and observant, already curled up with a book—snorts without looking up.
“It’s going to be a long few weeks,” she mutters, earning a scowl from Lila.
“You can always go home, Chloe. Nobody’s forcing you to be here. Sign the withdrawal form and trudge back to San Francisco. Don’t forget to take your bad attitude with you. We don’t need that kind of negativity in our lives, am I right, lovelies?” She wiggles her eyebrows at her now five-thousand viewers.
Whoisthis girl, and what does she do that this many people pay attention to her?
Chloe rolls her eyes and shifts on her bed until her back is to us. Lila returns to her own bed, still chatting away about the first day of baking.
Moments later, there’s a knock on the door. Someone from below yells that drinks are happening downstairsright nowand that if we don’t come immediately, Ace is going to drink all the good stuff.
“That man doesnotneed encouragement,” Chloe mutters, closing her book.
Lila quickly says goodbye and ends her livestream before bounding over to my bed, grabbing my wrist, and dragging me out of the room.
Downstairs, the entire vibe of the house has shifted from calculated competition to electric camaraderie. Everyone’s clustered around the kitchen island or sprawled across the furniture, red cups and wine glasses already in circulation. I bite my lip as I take it all in. I feel like I’ve been dropped into a house party scene from an early 2000’s teen movie, and I love it.
