Abby

The buzzer goes off, and the contestants place down their dishes, stepping

back from their stations. The room is alive with murmurs, excitement from the

crowd as their eyes scan the three dishes on the stage. The judges step down

from their booth, their gazes inscrutable.

My hands tremble, still hovering over the tiramisu’s uneven surface— it’s a

mocking reminder of the chaos just moments before, but I could fix it, at least a

little. Maybe no one would even notice.

My dish is not even close to perfect, far from the image I had in my head, and

every fiber of my being screams to adjust the messy dusting of pistachios just a

Enter title…

little bit, just so I can make it look a tiny bit more presentable.

But before my fingers can act, I catch Logan’s cold glare, halting me, his

disapproval crystal clear. I quickly pull my hands away, feeling my face turn what

I can only imagine is the deepest shade of red ever.

We all stand back, the stage now eerily quiet. The judges begin to make their

rounds, and I can hear them before I see them.

“Delicious,” Logan says, slowly chewing a bite of none other than Daniel’s

delicious. You’ve

you, Logan,” Daniel says with a nod. His

a twinge of something bubbling inside of

Daniel switch my spices? I

next. I can’t quite make

me that they like his dish.

tastes the mascarpone, a subtle “Oh my god…” escaping her

it’s just me

love the

Vanessa’s voice is

out of

I can do is offer a tense smile, nodding politely

bit of the

her eyes closing

shifts ever so

not a grimace, but it’s

either.

spices out

feel the color drain from my face. “Just… Just nutmeg,” I reply, my

quivering.

Vanessa’s hum is low and confused as

of her head.

a look as he approaches. I brace

unsettling suspicion of

added the ‘nutmeg’ to

should have checked it just to be

running out of

His eyes, a stormy gray color,

he tastes the

he states flatly, putting the spoon

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