Taste Test (19 page)

The night air is intensely cold and I find it impossible to catch my breath as I hurry around the side of the dorm. By the time I’ve made it to the back door of the kitchen, my legs feel numb and my nose is running. Fantastic. I’m sure I’ve never looked better.

Once I get inside, I push the loose strands of hair off my forehead and rub my hands together, trying to warm them. Exhausted, I sit down on the floor in front of the refrigerator, soaking up the slight heat of the running motor. Christian is late and, somehow, I don’t even mind. I lean my head back and look up at the ceiling, trying to remember how exactly this happened. It went from hate to this—it went from war to this.

I close my eyes.

Can it all be blamed on chemistry, like Tressa said? Or does some of it have to do with my heart …

“Nora.”

His voice is like a caress, a whisper. I smile.

“Nora. Wake up.”

I love the way he says my name.

“Nora. You’re lying on the dirty floor.”

My eyes fly open. Christian is kneeling in front of me, his hand on my arm. I’m curled into a ball next to the fridge. I feel my hair matted against the vent, my cheek pressed against the unmopped linoleum. I can’t even remember falling asleep. Hastily, I wipe a hand over my face and push myself up to sitting.

“What time is it?” I ask groggily.

“It’s almost one.”

“In the morning?”

“No, genius, in the afternoon. Yes, in the morning.”

I yawn and look at him sleepily. He’s smiling at me, his eyes crinkled in that way I’ve started to notice.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, shifting to sit down next to me. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it on time. I had a hard time getting away from my dad.”

“Yeah, he seemed a little …”

“Drunk?” Christian supplies with a rueful smile. I shrug, but I don’t say anything. It’s his dad, not mine.

“He’s sleeping it off in my dorm room,” he continues, running a hand through his hair. “I feel bad for Pierce—my dad snores louder than anyone I’ve ever met. Way to go, Pop. Always a pleasure.”

“I’m sorry. That sucks.”

He shrugs. “Pretty crazy about tonight, huh?”

“You mean about our visitors or about the partners?” I ask, purposely not mentioning his dad again. He doesn’t answer right away.

“I guess both. I was talking about the partner thing though. Didn’t see that one coming.”

I want to say something to him about Joy and Prescott. In fact, I open my mouth to do it—then stop. For whatever reason, I just can’t. I don’t know if it’s that I don’t trust him or if I’m embarrassed or maybe it’s just that I think I might be wrong. Whatever it is, I can’t say anything to him. Not yet, anyway. What I
can
say, though, is what he probably already knows.

“I don’t think Joy’s a particularly good cook.”

He shrugs. “She’s made it this far.”

I don’t respond. I can’t really argue with that without saying too much.

“You excited about being paired up with Gigi?” he asks me.

“Sure …” I hesitate, then take a deep breath and pull myself up to look at him. “It might have been fun if they’d paired us up, you know?”

Christian looks down at his hands for a second and I can see the hint of a smile. When he looks back up at me, his expression is thoughtful.

“I guess that wouldn’t have been a smart idea—putting the two of us together.”

“Why is that?”

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Because there is absolutely no way I could concentrate with you right next to me all the time.”

His face is close enough for me to count his eyelashes. I think about the times he’s been this close to me before—times we were yelling at each other, times we were angry.
Somehow, this feels sort of the same—I’m just as hyped up on adrenaline. The only difference is that here, tonight, I’m not trying to get away from him.

He leans in a bit and his lips hover just above mine.

The memory enters my head like a bullet; Gigi’s voice is in my ear as though she’s sitting next to me:

“
Have you ever thought that Joy and Christian might be targeting you? You know, like a tag-team kind of thing? Clearly they know each other from before—maybe this is just a game to them.”

I jerk back, blinking rapidly.

What if she’s right? What if this
is
a strategy, a trap—if he just wants me to like him so that he can screw with my head? How do I know that he and Joy aren’t in on this whole thing together? One minute, he’s totally rude and arrogant, and then the next, he’s flirty and sweet.
Too
sweet. I can almost hear him laughing at my stupidity.

Ha, Ha! What an idiot! Actually thinking someone like
me
would like someone like
her.

Christian reaches over and touches my cheek. He looks confused.

“What is it?”

“Look, I—I’m sorry,” I stutter, moving further away from him. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“This. I—I have to get out of here.”

“Nora …”

Before I lose my resolve, I scramble to standing and run for the door. I can’t look at him, too afraid of what I’ll see—his satisfaction that he “got to me”? His anger that I’m such a prude?

Quickly, I head out into the frozen night, trying my hardest to ignore the ache in my gut. In the end, I have to remember what is important: the contest. The scholarship. I need this. I can’t throw away this chance, especially not on a stupid crush, or whatever this is. I pull my jacket tighter to me and hurry away. Away from the kitchen, away from Christian, and away from everything that, moments ago, had been so gloriously warm.

Contestant Interview

Nora Henderson

Producer (P):
     What’s on your mind, Nora?

Nora Henderson (NH):
     [shaking her head, distracted] Nothing. Sorry, can you repeat your question?

P:
     I asked you how you’re feeling about the partners challenge.

NH:
     Oh, right. Well, good, I guess.

P:
     You feel confident paired with Gigi?

NH:
     Sure. I think we’ll work well together.

P:
     And you feel like it’s an even pairing?

NH:
     [confused expression] Yes … why, don’t you?

P:
     Face it, Nora. You’ve got the talent. Gigi’s gonna need to rely on you to pull her through the challenge.

NH:
     [rolling her eyes] Look, I get what you’re trying to do.

P:
     And what’s that?

NH:
     You’re trying to get me to say that I think Gigi isn’t a good chef, that she doesn’t deserve to be here.

P:
     [shrugging] I never said that—but apparently that’s the way you feel. Otherwise, why would you suggest it?

NH:
     [shaking head] Stop playing mind games with me. Gigi may not be the best chef in the world, but she works hard. She wants to be here. That’s more than I can say for some of the other people that are still here.

P:
     Really? Like who?

NH:
     Just forget it. I’m tired of being manipulated by you.

P:
     Nora, I’m not trying to—

NH:
     I gotta get out of here. [removes microphone, leaves room]

Contestant Interview

Christian Van Lorton

Producer (P):
     How are things going, Christian?

Christian Van Lorton (CVL):
     Fine, I guess.

P:
     Seems like you and your father have a pretty volatile relationship.

CVL:
     [shrugs] If you think so.

P:
     [eyebrows raised] Are you being difficult tonight on purpose?

CVL:
     [smiles] Maybe. How am I doing?

P:
     Pretty good. How about you tell me about how things are going with Nora?

CVL:
     [sighs] Let’s try this one more time. There is NOTHING going on with me and Nora. Why can’t you just drop it?

P:
     Because, every time the two of you are together, you seem so … intense. It’s easy to think that the two of you are involved.

CVL:
     [rolling eyes] No. Trust me, now more than ever, I can promise you that Nora and I are
not
involved.

P:
     What do you mean “now more than ever”?

CVL:
     Just that we aren’t having any sort of relationship.

P:
     Have you talked to her about how you feel about your father? How you feel about the show?

CVL:
     [rubs hand over face] And why would I do that?

P:
     It just seems that these things that are bothering you are the kind of things you might share with a friend. Or a girlfriend.

CVL:
     Jesus, can’t you let it go? She isn’t my girlfriend. We’re not even friends. As far as I’m concerned, my life is none of Nora Henderson’s business.

Chapter Twelve

All Falls Down

“I still can’t believe you just
left
him there.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

Gigi shakes her head. “I don’t know. Not
that
.”

We’re sitting at a table in the dorm lounge, poring over recipes we’re considering for our partners challenge. Unfortunately, Gigi’s been preoccupied with talking about me and Christian. I almost regret telling her about what happened.

“It doesn’t really seem like you guys are fighting or anything.”

“We’re not fighting. We’re just not talking.”

“I don’t get it. I mean, look, I’ll be the first one to say he’s a conceited pretty boy who probably sleeps with everything that has a pulse—”

“Does this rant have a point?” I interrupt.

“The point is—well, you said you were starting to like him or whatever. Or, at least you said you weren’t sure. Are you telling me that now he isn’t even worth your time?”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with worth.” I flip through my spiral, pretending to focus on a glazed pork belly dish. “I’m not here to make friends.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“You know what I mean. This place isn’t about connecting. It’s about winning.”

She shrugs, glances at her watch. “I need to get upstairs soon. I’ve got a production interview before dinner.”

I roll my eyes. “Of all the things that drive me crazy, I hate those the most.”

“Why? They’re kinda fun. A good way to get in on some of the backstage dirt.”

“Yeah, but they’re always trying to instigate stuff. Get people mad at each other. Cause drama.”

“That’s true—they’ve asked me about you and Christian pretty much every time I’ve walked in there. And the whole Angela thing. And Joy …”

“And me and you,” I add.

Gigi frowns.

“What about me and you?”

I wish I could reel the words back in. I shake my head.

“Nothing.”

“Well, obviously not nothing. Otherwise you wouldn’t have said it.”

“I don’t know. Who knows what they meant?”

Gigi isn’t convinced.

“Nora, what did they say?”

I sigh. “It was stupid, something about the partners challenge.”

“What about it?”

I look down, wishing I’d just kept my big mouth shut.

“About if I was mad we were paired up—since you haven’t won a challenge yet …”

Gigi looks down. “Oh.”

“I don’t think like that, Gigi, I swear.”

I reach across the table to grab her arm. She just shakes her head.

“Whatever. It’s fine.”

Abruptly, she stands and grabs her jacket from the back of her chair. “I really do need to go up for that interview.”

“Listen, Gigi—”

“I said it’s fine, Nora. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay … ,” I say reluctantly. “Well, I’m going to go work on that salmon roulade recipe in one of the labs. Do you want to meet me there after?”

She shakes her head.

“No, I’ve got a bunch of homework left to do. I’ll just see you later.”

I watch as she walks away and I want to hit myself. I am a
complete
moron. Why, oh, WHY can’t I learn to shut the hell up?

A couple of our professors have offered us the lab kitchens when classes aren’t in session, which gives me some other, more private options besides the dorm and the basement kitchen. But the worst part about cooking away from the dorms has got to be lugging my ingredients across campus. And
considering how far the labs are from our building, it’s a good thing I’m cooking fish and not a Thanksgiving turkey.

I try to ignore the vision of a quick, convenient golf cart whizzing me to my destination. If I don’t stop thinking about him, this is just going to be more difficult and more awkward. Obviously he isn’t going to get voted off anytime soon, so I need to push these feelings aside and learn to cohabitate and ignore.