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Nope, nope, nope. We’re not having another kissing incident. I’m not opening myself up to feelings for him, only for another ex-girlfriend to show up, or for Fallon to decide he’s had enough of me and leave again. The past year was torture enough for me, thank you very much.
Fallon is one thing and one thing only: a distraction.
I pull my hand away. “You don’t even like me anymore. I rejected your advances and chose the book instead of you. You quit because you couldn’t stand to work next to me. You haven’t spoken a word to me in six months. Why are you here?”
A pained sort of expression crosses Fallon’s eyes. “That’s not why I quit, Jen.”
I open my mouth to ask for an explanation, but there’s a banging on the door. “Yo!” Gus calls through the door. “You’re needed on set.”
Fallon’s eyes are still on mine, and he gives me a serious look. “This conversation isn’t over.”
Why did my stomach just tighten at the way he said that?
Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Right now, I need to stay focused on winning this competition, if only to avoid thinking about all the feelings swirling inside me that don’t make any sense.
I pull open the door to find Gus leaning against his trusty broomstick.
He straightens up, glances behind me at Fallon, and nods. “Good. You’re ready. Follow me!”
There’s a camera pointed at my face. I shuffle in my hard plastic seat, which causes my arm to brush against Fallon’s. In response, he shifts to drape his arm across the back of my chair. A flush creeps up my cheeks as my heart flutters.
It’s just the cameras. That’s why I’m nervous. Not the weight of Fallon’s arm or the fact that I can smell his cologne.
“We’re here to win,” Fallon says. “Jen is the most talented baker I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, and I intend to support her all the way to the finale.” He glances down at me, those lush lips tugging into a smile.
The interviewer, the show’s host named Carrie, crosses her legs as she shifts her gaze. “And you, Jen? How do you feel about being here?”
“I’m terrified,” I tell her.
Interest sparks in her eyes. “Go on.”
“Well, I’m not sure how else to put it. I’m here to win, obviously, but this whole experience is terrifying. Baking is usually something I do alone, often late at night or early in the morning, when the whole world is quiet. But now I have to somehow shift that to a high-pressure situation in front of cameras—”
“Not to mention the live audience.”
“—and…” I snap my mouth shut as Carrie’s words sink in. “The what, now?”
Fallon shifts in his seat, his fingers brushing my arm in what I assume is supposed to be a comforting movement. Except all I feel is ice water jetting through my veins.
Carrie tilts her head, blinking those long, false lashes at me. “You know that for each elimination challenge, the final hour of baking will be filmed in front of an audience, right?”
I’m frozen. My muscles must all be malfunctioning, because I can’t move from my spot on the chair. I stare at Carrie, at her long blond hair pulled into a high ponytail with the ends curled, at her perfectly flicked eyeliner, at the heavy makeup that supposedly looks normal on camera. She tilts her head and blinks again. I wonder if those lashes are too heavy to hold up for long periods of time.
Focus, Jen.
Fallon’s arm moves closer again, his fingers curling around my shoulder. “Did you not know the audience would be live, Jen?”
I part my lips as I glance at Fallon, then close them again. My throat is too dry to speak. “I’ll be baking in front of people?” My voice squeaks. Then I turn, but I can’t bear to look at Carrie’s beautiful, showbiz face, so I look at the only other thing that happens to be directly in front of me. The camera. “I’m so screwed.”
Carrie waits a beat, then exhales and claps her hands. “Oh, you are going to be a fan favorite. I can already tell!” She glances over her shoulder. “Gus?”
“Amazing. Breaking the fourth wall there at the end—genius. You’re a natural, Jen.”
“A natural?” I repeat, an edge of panic creeping into my voice. “Can we go back to the part where you revealed the audience will be live?”
Instead of answering, Gus taps his watch. “You’re done. We need to get Tori and Hank in here. Next!”
Fallon helps me stand and keeps his arm around me as he leads me out of the room. It’s a comforting weight across my shoulders, and when he pulls me closer, the twist in my stomach unknots. Damn my body for reacting to him without my permission.
