At least the contest will be over by the time the show airs, so he can’t insist I drop it.
“How you doing?” I ask Bailey as we pack up.
“This is a lot.”
“Yeah.”
“I just started baking sophomore year. What if I’m not good enough for this?”
“Hey,” I say gently, “you are good enough. And we’re a team, so we can fill in where the other lacks. You use your creativity to give my technical focus a boost, and I’ll make sure you’re not a sloppy mess.” I grin at her and inwardly celebrate when her lips twitch up.
“Right.” She rolls her eyes. “You think we can do this?”
“I do.”
“Hey, Barnes!” someone calls, and we both turn toward the voice. Up walks a guy about our age. He’s clean-shaven, his eyebrow is pierced, his hair is in some 1950’s James Dean style, and he’s wearing a black plaid shirt that looks like it could have come straight from Bailey’s closet. My hackles raise.
“Oh my god!” Bailey squeals and launches herself into the dude’s arms. Are you fucking kidding me? “Taylor. What the hell are you doing here?”
He takes a step back from the hug and gives us both a smile, but he keeps his arms on Bailey’s shoulders. “Same thing as you, I guess.” It’s reflex that my stance squares, my arms cross, and my chest puffs out.
“I didn’t even know you liked baking,” she says.
He raises his eyebrow suggestively, and she snorts and swats his side.
“When did you start?” he asks her.
“Sophomore year. I needed something. After.”
“Yeah,” his voice is soft, and he gives her a sad kind of smile. “Me too.”
I clear my throat loudly and thrust my hand at him.
“Riggs. I’m Bailey’s partner.”
He drops his arms from her shoulders so he can shake my hand.
“Taylor. Bailey and I go way back.”
“Taylor and I went to school together before I transferred,” Bailey chimes in.
“Before you crossed the state line into no man’s land and fell off the face of the earth,” Taylor jokes. “We miss you, little Barnes. Where you staying? Maybe we can hang before this thing is over.”
“We’re at The ParisHouse on State and Chicago Ave,” I butt in, and relish the way the guys’ eyes widen and he whistles.
“We’re out of the city. Takin’ the train in, then hoppin’ on the L.” He widens his eyes as he whispers, “My partner was random. He’s a Buckeye.”
Bailey groans comically, and I step up and throw my arm around her. I ignore the way she stiffens. “Well, luckily we’re not random, are we, Sundance? Nice to meet you, Tyler. Our car is out front. Enjoy the train.”
“See you tomorrow,” Bailey says quickly as I steer her toward the exit. As soon as we’re out of ear shot, she elbows me in the side, and I drop my arm. I might be an idiot, but I do value my safety. “What the fuck was that, Riggs?”
“Sorry, but we don’t have time for you to make kissy face with the competition. You gotta keep your head in the game, little Barnes.”
Yeah, okay, I sorta value my safety. Her eyes say she might break into my room and murder me in my sleep tonight.
“You’re such an asshole,” she growls, stomping up to the car. “Taylor is a friend.”
“Taylor wants to fuck you.”
“So what if he does?”
I choke on my own spit as I swing the door open.
“So what? You’re not going to fuck up our chances of winning because you want spontaneous dick.” She stands on the sidewalk and glares at me. “Get in the car, Bailey.”
“No.”
“Get in the car, Bailey.”
“I’ll walk.”
“Are you nuts? You’re not walking three and a half miles through the city alone when it’s dark and thirty-five degrees out. Get in the damn car.”
She huffs and throws herself into the back seat, then scoots over and plasters herself to the opposite door. I slide in after her and nod to the driver.
“Thank you,” I say smugly.
“Fuck off.” And in go her earbuds.
I guess getting dinner together is out of the question.