And now, as she stood dripping in the shower, watching London dry themself off and brush their teeth, such ordinary, intimate things, Dahlia felt frayed at the edges. Like she felt too big for her body, suddenly, like she didn’t know how to proceed without her limbs falling apart.
“I’m going to need another towel for my hair,” she said eventually, motioning limply to her head. “This is a two-towel affair.”
“Of course.” London handed her another towel and she scrunched her hair in it, grateful for a practical, normal action.
“You didn’t answer me,” London said as they watched. “Are you okay? You seem . . . a little shaky.”
Dahlia twisted the towel on top of her head.
“I’m . . . tired. You are exhausting me, London Parker.”
A grin jerked up a corner of their mouth.
“I would apologize, but you know, I don’t really feel sorry.”
Dahlia shook her head, but she grinned too. Smug, sexy London was too much.
“I think I need a night to catch up on sleep,” she said. “Is that okay? We can collapse in our own beds tonight, and pick this back up tomorrow?”
The more she thought about it, the more she knew she needed this. A breath of bittersweet relief coursed through her.
“That sounds very reasonable and healthy. I mean, I don’t love it, but sure, if you’re into that kind of thing.” London took a step closer to the shower. They leaned down and kissed her shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said. And then she stepped out of the shower to start preparing herself for the day.
It was only later, when they walked onto set, about to film another Elimination Challenge that could result in either of them being sent home, that Dahlia realized her mistake.
She had suggested a night off. That they pick this back up tomorrow.
Like another night was guaranteed.
Like tomorrow was a promise.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Dahlia!” Janet’s hand landed on Dahlia’s shoulder. “Let’s head to hair and makeup. Parker, you’re good.”
Dahlia gave London a small shrug of her shoulders, which they returned, before she followed Janet down the hall. When they reached hair and makeup, Janet plopped into one of the black chairs next to Dahlia, swiveling a bit as Mack untwined Dahlia’s still-damp hair from the clip she’d thrown it in.
“Morning, love.” Mack smiled softly at her, as he always did. Mack was gentle, reassuring.
Janet, on the other hand, seemed hyped up. She was always intense, Janet, but in this controlled, intimidating way. Today her leg bounced on the silver ring at the bottom of the chair, a slightly wild grin perched on her face beneath her chunky, magenta-framed glasses.
The fact that she was sitting here at all, next to Dahlia, instead of hustling around set, preparing everyone for the day, was . . . odd.
Reallyodd.
Oh god. Anxiety started to army-crawl inside Dahlia’s gut. Janet seemed weirdly happy, but maybe she was trying to cover for something, preparing Dahlia for a blow. Was something wrong? Had something happened to Hank? Her mom or dad?
“Janet? Is something wrong?”
“Hah!”
Janet’s exuberant outburst startled Dahlia so much she jumped. Mack frowned.
“Sorry.” Janet cleared her throat, lacing her fingers in front of her. “No, Woodson, for once, nothing is wrong. In fact, season eight is going incrediblyright.”
Janet leaned forward in her chair.
