Love & Other Disasters(65)

“Dahlia.” London reached over and took her hand. They suddenly didn’t want to talk about this anymore. It had been a small, dumb thing. Dahlia was right; at least they hadn’t gotten the disadvantage, which could have been disastrous. They pushed Lizzie away again, back into the recesses of their mind where she belonged.

“It’s cool, okay?” they said. “We both made it through another elimination. We’re both still here. That’s all that matters.”

And this had been a big elimination to survive. It was Thursday now; they had a three-day weekend ahead of them, and the next Elimination Challenge wouldn’t be until Tuesday. They had both just earned themselves five more days of being together.

And London still wanted that.

London still wanted to fall asleep next to her tonight.

“Do you think Ahmed’s pissed at me?” Dahlia asked. “I meant to apologize.”

“Nah, Ahmed’s good,” London answered. “He’s happy to be heading home to his wife and kids.”

“Yeah?” Dahlia’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“London, do you think . . . ?” Dahlia bit her lip. “Do you think being on this show is worth it?”

London frowned.

“What do you mean?”

Dahlia looked away, hugging her elbows to herself and shivering a bit, even though it was warm out. A long moment passed.

“Never mind.” She shook her head before smiling at them. But it was such a small, forced smile, the most un-Dahlia-like thing London had ever seen.

She turned and kept walking toward the hotel, the now familiar sounds of this city filling in the silence. London followed, trying to think of some way to bring her back to them.

“You deserve part of my win, really,” London said as the hotel came into view. “You were the inspiration.”

“But . . . ” Dahlia frowned. “I don’t even drink coffee.”

“Yeah, which makes no sense. The coffee part was me. But—” London cut themself off, feeling a bit embarrassed now. But they needed to fill the space between them somehow, with something good and true, before they went back to their room alone.

“You taste like peppermint.”

“What?” Dahlia’s mouth cracked into a real smile this time, one hundred percent Woodson, and warmth flooded London’s chest.

“Oh my god,” Dahlia said. “You made me a cake.”

“One of my best, if I say so myself.”

Dahlia stopped once more, yanking on London’s arm. They stumbled back toward her, and she wrapped her arms around their neck, reaching up to plant a kiss on their mouth.

London could feel her playful smile under their lips. They grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, changing the intention of the kiss, pushing her mouth open, wanting to feel her tongue, her hot breath.

This was uncomplicated. This was glorious. This did not involve thinking, and London wanted more of it.

They pulled away just an inch. “You sure you still want a night off ? We can sleep in tomorrow morning, you know.” They ran their knuckles up her side.

“Yes,” she said, but her voice wavered with the effort. “I think if I even kiss you one more time, I am going to pass out. We need some space to breathe, London.”

London sighed and pressed a firm kiss to her temple. They stood there a moment, holding each other, breathing in the night air: half jasmine, half engine exhaust.

“All right, Woodson,” London said eventually, releasing her, and they walked into the glow of the hotel. “Let’s go breathe.”





CHAPTER SIXTEEN


The sky outside Dahlia’s window was hazy and pale when she woke the next morning, and it matched the color of her emotions, bright and muted all at once.

It felt strange, being alone.

Even though, prior to her Chef’s Special life, Dahlia had become quite accustomed to being alone almost all the time.

She wondered what London was doing. Drinking coffee in their pajamas with their cute bed hair? Walking to get a breakfast burrito from that place around the corner? Still snoring under the covers? Except London didn’t snore. Which was weird. Who didn’t snore? Were they reading a book? What did London like to read?

Even if Dahlia didn’t know what London was doing at this exact second, the strange thing was that she felt them anyway. Two nights in their arms and it was like her skin had memorized them, could feel the weight of them still, a ghost taking up space in her bed. Knowing they were down the hall, a few rooms away, only made it worse.

She ached for the comfort of their proximity.

But she had to sort out her head first. Because the last twenty-four hours had made that an absolute mess.

Ever since she’d talked to Janet yesterday, her mind had felt . . . twisted. Like she was looking at her own memories through a contorted looking glass.

Dahlia flipped onto her other side, away from the window.

The conversation with Janet would have been enough to ruin the day, but then there had also been that whole dumb advantage. It had been awful, saying Lizzie’s name. As Janet had predicted, Khari had fought for Lizzie to walk free and for London to get the disadvantage. Cath had tried to play the peacemaker, making the compromise that Lizzie would get the advantage but London wouldn’t get the disadvantage, and then time had been up.