Love & Other Disasters(95)

“Are you going to sit down, or what? The food’s getting cold.”

London sat down.

“So I obviously didn’t have a lot of time to marinate or smoke the ribs, although I did start them earlier, back in the kitchen at the hotel, but still, they might not be as good as what you’re used to. And when I asked Julie how you liked the mac ’n’ cheese, she just said, ‘I don’t know dude, it’s mac ’n’ cheese,’ which was really not helpful at all—”

“Dahlia,” London said.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her shoulders suddenly sinking. “I’m so sorry I left. For everything I said. I wish I could . . . I—”

London was at her side immediately.

“You already said sorry,” they said. “With the Rice Krispies treats. Thank you, by the way.”

“Did the package smell bad?” She was still whispering.

“So bad.” London smiled. Dahlia smiled a little then, too, but her eyes were wet at the edges.

“Dahlia, I’m sorry, too.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t—”

“Dahlia. Let us both be sorry. Let’s be very sorry people eating barbecue. Okay?”

She bit her lip, the skin around her eyes creased in concern. London drew a finger down the side of her cheek until it landed on those worried lips.

Automatically, as if she couldn’t help herself, Dahlia opened her mouth and bit down, the grip of her teeth on their fingertips so sharp and gentle at once that London visibly shivered.

Removing their hand, they made themself lean back into their own chair again and look at the food. She had clearly worked hard, and none of it would get eaten if there was any further action of lips and teeth. Their system was already starting to spiral.

“Dahlia, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know that I even deserve this.”

“London,” Dahlia said, sounding exasperated. “Seriously, you won Chef’s Special. Just . . . fucking eat.”

And then she laughed again, at herself. It sounded better this time, more real. London picked up their fork. They were about to dig in to the mac ’n’ cheese, or the potato salad, when they spotted another dish on the table.

“Oh my god.” They reached over and grabbed a perfectly fried ball of cornmeal. “You made hush puppies, too?”

“Yeah . . .” Dahlia winced. “Sorry, I know they’re more of a Carolina thing—”

“Dahlia,” London interrupted before stuffing it in their mouth. “Never, ever apologize for hush puppies.” And then they groaned.

And realized they were starving.

London tucked into the potato salad and then some greens, and they were just about to pick up a rib when Dahlia stomped on their foot.

“Ow!” They laughed, their mouth still full.

“Stop making all those noises! It’s . . . ” London looked over and realized Dahlia’s cheeks were flushed. “It’s unfair.”

London grinned. “Well, if I’m about to watch you eat ribs and suck sauce off your fingers, which I’m pretty sure I’m about to do, I’d call us about even.”

Dahlia blushed even harder. “God, I can’t wait to kiss you.”

London stopped in their tracks.

She was right. They had eaten some of the food now. Kissing was obviously in order.

They dropped their fork and stood from their chair. Thank god these judge’s chairs were ridiculously oversized, like three seats made for kings. It made it surprisingly easy to slide onto Dahlia’s lap, to straddle their knees next to her hips.

Dahlia let out a small, shaky breath. It was the sexiest thing London had ever heard.

They took her face in their hands.

Her eyelids fluttered on her cheeks, her focus shifting to their lips.

London ran a hand around Dahlia’s neck, slinking a hand into her hair, stretching out their fingers, feeling the silky strands between each one. She closed her eyes fully and leaned her head back into their palm, releasing a soft whimper.

“Dahlia.” London leaned forward, pressed a kiss in turn onto each of her eyelids. “Dahlia.” They sighed into her cheek. “I missed you so much.”

And then a timer went off.

Dahlia’s eyes blinked open. “Oh, shit!” She shoved London to the side, and they stumbled off the chair. “I almost forgot!”

She ran around the judge’s table and over to London’s station, where a stove was beeping. She tugged on an oven mitt. After London had recovered from their seduction being so rudely interrupted, they joined her and stared at what she had just unearthed from the oven.

“Did you make me sweet potato pie ?”

London didn’t want this night to ever end.

“Yeah?” Dahlia said nervously. “Julie said it was your favorite. But it was sort of hard to tell, over DM, if she was just messing with me or not. If you don’t—”

“No, no, Dahlia. I love it.”

London looked at her a second more and then pushed off from the countertop.

“Hey,” they said. “Stay right there for a minute. Seriously, don’t move.”

Dahlia gave them a funny look. “Okay.”

London walked behind her.

They took a few steps to the right. Considered. Yeah, this was about right. This was about where their old station would have been.