Love & Other Disasters(60)

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.

Really odd.

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 incredibly right.”

Janet leaned forward in her chair.

“Dahlia, you must know Chef’s Special ’s ratings have been tanking the last few seasons.”

Dahlia breathed in deeply through her nose. Her heart felt tender from last night, the whole ruckus of the last few days, and all she wanted was to get through another’s day cook and then curl up in her bed for ten hours. She did not give a flying fig about ratings, and she had no clue why Janet was talking to her about them.

“There are so many cooking shows now, on every single platform,” Janet continued, waving a hand in the air, “on Netflix, every other random streaming service that seems to pop up every month these days, even YouTube. Chef’s Special is old hat now. We’ve been losing viewers left and right. But.” Janet leaned back in her chair, a satisfied grin on her face. “As I predicted, London Parker has changed all that.”

Dahlia’s neck swiveled toward Janet so quickly it hurt. Mack tsked under his breath.

“London? What do you mean?”

“Well, you know, there’s the whole Team Lizzie versus Team London thing—”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh.” Janet’s eyebrows raised, seeming genuinely surprised. “I figured you’d be following it.” She dug her phone out of her pocket and did a quick search before handing it over.

The anxiety in Dahlia’s gut changed shape, transforming into something closer to a ghost, whispering up into her lungs as she read the headline open in Janet’s browser.

Chef’s Special Fans Take a Stand: Are you #TeamLizzie or #TeamLondon?

Dahlia scanned through the article, disbelieving. Her mouth gaped open.

“But . . . but Lizzie and London hardly talk on set. How do people even know they don’t like each other? That Lizzie has a problem with London?”

For the first time since she’d greeted Dahlia ten minutes ago, Janet looked uncomfortable.

“On the first episode, when the judges were praising London’s lamb. One of the cameras caught Lizzie rolling her eyes. And then . . . Lizzie said some things, in one of her solo interviews.”

“What?” Dahlia looked up from the phone. She felt like she kept talking in all caps, but there was no other way to respond. “What did she say?”

Janet scrunched her mouth to the side, like she’d tasted something sour.

“That’s not important. Nothing . . . nothing that would surprise you, or London.”

She leaned forward, placed a hand on Dahlia’s knee.