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

probably more terrifying than the

and I feel prepared. I’ve

to go. All that’s left now is to get

over with, and then tomorrow is

The cook-off.

believe it’s already almost here. In

studio where I’ll be competing in front of

for

really, really hope

from the interview and the cook-off, there’s

dread forming in my stomach—this time, thanks

after tomorrow, only returning in a few weeks for the Alpha

and then leaving again.

his presence

All this time, he’s been putting

And I have so much

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

knowing.

I’m pulled back to reality. Crisp lighting,

fill the air as I walk down the

marble floor—everything about it

and directed to

salon, complete with hair and

around and spot the three other contestants—a

him, an older-looking man who doesn’t even glance

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