“What did you play?”
“Trumpet. Still play, actually.”
“Wait.” Dahlia actually held out her hand in astopgesture. “You play the trumpet? Like, currently. Just for fun. Or,oh my god, are you like, in a jazz quartet or something?”
“No.” London squirmed, feeling embarrassed. “Just for fun.” Although they shouldn’t be embarrassed. Playing an instrument was a totally normal hobby. They had no idea why Dahlia was so amused.
“Huh.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” She smiled. “It’s just, kind of sexy. Playing the trumpet.”
London stared at her. “Dahlia, have you ever actually seen someone play the trumpet? It is not sexy.”
This was true. It wasn’t.
But London might have spent the rest of the night blushing in their room anyway, congratulating themself on graduating fromcutetosexyin the eyes of Dahlia Woodson.
They walked home together on Tuesday night, too. After London won the Elimination Challenge, which had been about hearts. “Ugh, this isdisgusting, of course you love cooking with hearts, youheathen,” Dahlia had said to them, her face crinkled and adorable, back to her regular self.
Even though Dahlia did just fine with her own heart. Jacob, however, did not.
After he got the boot on Tuesday, Barbara shifted over to take his place at Dahlia’s station on Wednesday morning. When Janet made the change, Dahlia had literally jumped up and down and clapped her hands. London had pretended to write some recipe notes in their notepad, but mostly they smiled pathetically at nothing. Ahmed was totally onto them, and slugged their shoulder, which was embarrassing.
By the time Dahlia and London walked back to the hotel on Wednesday night, after another Face-Off and Ingredient Innovation day, London was starting to feel dangerously confident. At cooking on set. At making Dahlia laugh. At settling into this new routine.
But when the door to their hotel room clicked shut, they sank into the chair in the corner and took a deep breath.
London stared at their phone and tried to wipe Dahlia Woodson from their mind. There were two calls they had to make. Well, one, really, and they had put it off for as long as they could. It’d been at the back of their mind all day, niggling like an annoying itch. An itch they’d shoved away, purposely ignoring, ever since they’d been in LA. ButChef ’s Specialseason eight premiered tomorrow night. It was time now.
The other phone call was just for reassurance. That was the one London made first.
“London,” Julie panted into the phone after one ring. “Thank god you called. I might die tonight, and you should know where to find my body.”
“Julie.” London frowned. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m in Percy Warner Park. On the—where the hell are we again?” Julie’s voice faded away for a second. “The Mossy Ridge Trail. I’m on the Mossy Ridge Trail in Percy Warner Park. Write that down, for the police.”
“Julie.” London rubbed their forehead. “I know where the Mossy Ridge Trail is. Why the hell are you in Percy Warner Park at”—London checked the time, calculated two hours ahead—“ten o’clock at night?”
“I know. We have an hour until the park closes. I hope you give a nice speech, at my funeral.”
“Julie, I swear, if you don’t just get to the—”
“Dearest Ben Caravalho is training to hike the Pacific Crest Trail.”
“Yeah. I know. I talked to him last week.”
Ben had been Julie’s best friend since elementary school. London had been jealous of him for a long time, even though Julie had assured London they would always be her number one. The jealousy had been exacerbated by the fact that London had harbored an enormous crush on Ben all throughout high school, which had felt hopeless at the time, since Ben was super gay and London was still living under the illusion that they were just an awkward straight girl.
“Well, I’ve been trying to convince him what a horrible idea it is—”
“Julie! Why would you do that? Hiking the PCT is badass!”
“Yeah, anddangerous.”
London smiled. “Ben will be fine.”
