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

more terrifying than the former.

early and I feel prepared. I’ve spent the past

my answers ready to go. All

with, and then

The cook-off.

already almost here. In less than twenty-four hours, I’ll

studio where I’ll be competing

for that as I am for this

really, really

same time, aside from

of dread forming in my stomach—this time, thanks

tomorrow, only returning in

and then leaving again.

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

that. All this time, he’s been putting

I have so much to show for it.

time? I hope it’s been more than that for him, but I have no

knowing.

to reality. Crisp lighting, a monochrome

the air as I walk down the hall, my

marble floor—everything about

an assistant and directed to a waiting

complete with hair and makeup

and spot the three other contestants—a

an older-looking man who doesn’t even glance my

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