Love & Other Disasters(96)

They looked at her hair, at the back of her neck. Her shoulders were tense, uncertain. Like she was waiting to be called to the Golden Circle. But her cooking tonight had been perfect. She should already know she’d blown the competition away.

London made her wait a minute more.

“This is where I fell in love with you,” they said.

Slowly, she turned. She was smiling, no teeth, almost shy.

“And this is where I fell in love with you.”

London smiled back. “But you were facing away from me. You couldn’t even see me.”

“Yeah,” Dahlia said softly. “But I always knew you were there.”

London made a quick assessment of their surroundings. The station where they had cooked the meal of their life earlier today, where she had just cooked hers, was an absolute mess, dirty pots and pans everywhere, along with a cooling sweet potato pie.

They stepped forward and shoved it all away. Except for the pie, of course. A pan clattered loudly to the floor and Dahlia gasped. London took her by the waist, twirling her around, pushing her back against their countertop. And then they did something they’d secretly wanted to do for weeks. They picked her up and shoved her on top of the table, in this place where they had cooked and pined for her and loved her. They stepped between her legs, which she immediately wrapped around them, and, at last, they leaned in and kissed her.

Dahlia kissed them back, cupping their face in her palms, tasting like peppermint, smelling of coconut and barbecue, everything striking and precious and her. For once, she was taller than them, and it felt strangely thrilling. But her tongue pressing against theirs was so familiar, the sighs in her throat the soundtrack London had been missing, her lips tugging at the most alive places in their body, the places they had already pushed so deeply away in her absence, that were thrumming back to life.

“Wait.” Dahlia broke away, pushing lightly on London’s shoulders. She took a big, shaky breath. “I was so nervous when you walked in here I could barely think. But now I have to say some stuff. Please.”

London dropped their hands to Dahlia’s sides. They pushed a thumb into her hip.

“You were right.” Dahlia swallowed. “I was disappointing, that night.”

She lifted a hand to London’s cheek.

“Honestly?” London said. “I think we both were.”

“Maybe.” She smiled, but it looked a little sad. “I should have handled myself better, though, talked things through with you. I was just so, so scared, about so many things. I’m still scared, to be honest. I still don’t really know what I’m doing with my life.” She swallowed again. “I might disappoint you again, in the future. So. Fair warning.”

London looked at her.

“The future,” they said.

“Yeah.” Her thumb grazed London’s lower lip. “If . . . if you want that.”

London kissed that thumb, and then her wrist. They kissed up her bare arm, tan and lightly dusted with dark hair, her shoulder, the heavenly spot where her shoulder met her neck.

“I want that,” they said, and felt her exhale. “Do your worst, Woodson. Let’s be scared together.”

They kissed up to her jawline, smiling when they got there. They could feel her pulse, fluttering fast in her neck.

“Really,” they murmured, “I blame Tanner Tavish.”

Dahlia laughed, a bit breathless, tinkling delightfully in London’s ear.

“What?”

“For kicking you off in the first place.”

“London. I think it was a joint decision.”

“Yeah, but I really want to blame that guy for something.”

Dahlia hummed in amusement against their cheek.

“I suppose,” London said on a slight sigh, “I can’t give anyone on Chef’s Special too much shit anymore, considering they’re giving me $100,000. Well, minus all the taxes.”

“London.” Dahlia pushed them gently away from her neck, so she could beam at them. “Your nonprofit.”

“Oh yeah.” London found themself beaming right back. “I’ve had some ideas. God, I have so much to tell you.”

Dahlia blinked, her eyes suddenly misty.

“I can’t wait,” she whispered.

“Dahlia.” London shook their head, still smiling. “You are so tall right now.” They ran a thumb over her cheek. “It feels funny.”

Dahlia released another puff of laughter, release and relief and joy wrapped together in the small, wonderful sound.

“I know,” she said, sounding so much more like herself. “I can’t believe you walk around like this all the time. I feel drunk with power.”

And then, as if to prove it, she wrapped both of her legs around London’s hips, pulling them as close as they could possibly be, and kissed them so hard and deep that London couldn’t even control the growl that came out of their chest.

Their brain blanked, all the pressure and excitement of the day wiped away, replaced with nothing but white heat and pleasure, spirals of comfort and contentment radiating into their limbs. Their heart beat, steady and solid in their chest, yes, yes, yes with each thud.

Dahlia tore her mouth away, but London wasn’t letting her get away this time. They hugged her tighter, moved their lips to her earlobe, sucked it into their mouth through their teeth.