Could she . . . ?
Would London . . . ?
Oh, god.
Oh, god, she was going to try anyway.
She stood, feeling halfway like she might pass out, halfway like she could run a marathon. Or, all right. At least a 5K. “Okay,” she said. “I think I might have an idea.”
“Of course you do,” her mother said smoothly.
Dahlia walked to the door and shoved her feet in her shoes.
“So . . . I’m going back to Food Lion. Yeah. Okay. That’s what I’m going to do.” She nodded, her confidence inching higher as she talked to herself, slowly but surely. “I only need a few more ingredients.”
Dahlia found her sunglasses and car keys and gestured to the TV.
“Feel free to keep watching, if you want. I know what happens.”
“Dahlia?” her mom called when she was already halfway out the door. Dahlia turned on her heel.
“Yeah?”
Her mom stood and searched through her purse before shoving a twenty-dollar bill in Dahlia’s hands.
“Would you mind picking up a bottle of wine? It’s been quite the day.”
Dahlia smiled.
“Sure, Mom.”
And then she was gone.
London flopped heavily onto their bed, face-first, upon returning to their hotel room Monday night. They screamed dully into their pillow.
Today, in short, sucked.
It had sucked hard.
They had been so ready to get back to set this morning. It was the only place London felt any semblance of normal now. The challenges had started to feel almost easy, now that there wasn’t anything left on set to distract them.
So easy that London was sailing right into the finale. The Final Face-Off.
They only had one competitor left to beat.
And it wasn’t Cath.
London had already been picturing it, they realized. Two misfit queers who could cook for all they were worth. Nowthatwould be aChef’s Specialfinale to look forward to. An openly nonbinary pansexual and a woman as obviously gay as the day was long? Invite Carly Rae Jepsen and hang rainbow flags from the rafters.
But Cath had been kicked off today.
They couldn’t believe Cath had been kicked off.
Bitterness descended into London’s system.
This was the way it was meant to be, wasn’t it? The producers had likely planned it from the beginning. It hadn’t truly bothered them until now. Team London versus Team Lizzie, right? What a great TV moment.
London slid off the bed. They had been in their room for less than five minutes, and they couldn’t take it. They had actually contemplated asking for a new room this weekend. One where they hadn’t slept with Dahlia.
