Abby

It’s been raining cats and dogs all morning, but I’m too excited to care. All I can

think about is the anticipation buzzing in my chest as I make my way up the

walkway to the upscale studio where the interviews for the cook-off are being

held.

“Hello,” I say from under my umbrella to a security guard leaning against a post,

looking bored. “Is this the right entrance for the interviews?”

“Yup,” he says, nodding, and gestures to a set of double doors behind him.

“Head in there, take a left, and follow the hallway to the end.”

“Thank you.”

Enter title…

As I step through the doors, my heart rises into my throat. It’s all I can do to

swallow it and force my feet to carry me forward.

I’ve never been on television before. This is going to be both exciting and

than the former.

early and I feel prepared. I’ve spent

my answers ready to go. All that’s left now

and then tomorrow is the

The cook-off.

already almost here. In

television studio where I’ll

I just as prepared for that as I am for

really, really hope

aside from

dread forming in my stomach—this

tomorrow, only returning in a few weeks

and then leaving again.

think, in a weird way, I took his presence for granted.

he’s been putting aside

I have so much to

hope it’s been more than that for

knowing.

reality. Crisp lighting, a monochrome

the air as I walk down the hall,

floor—everything about it

greeted by an assistant and directed

salon, complete with hair

around and spot the three other contestants—a

air about him, an older-looking man who

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