Better With You (Better Love 2)

I don’t argue. I just climb onto the bed, the empty side is cool to the touch, the sheets smooth and wrinkle-free, and I can feel her body dip toward me as the mattress sinks under my weight.

“Thanks,” I say with a smile.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” she grunts, and I have to bite my lip to hold back my laugh.

When I come backinto the room the next morning, I’m greeted with the sound of banging in the bathroom. I drop my gym bag on the floor, just as Bailey comes out fully clothed for the day with her hair in a ponytail and a toothbrush in her mouth. The soft morning sunlight streams through the giant windows and settles around her. Like she’s glowing from the inside out. The pink in her hair is extra vibrant, and when she looks up at me, her amber eyes shine like golden sunbeams. It twists up my stomach and makes me frown. She’s so beautiful, the parts that she keeps hidden even more stunning, and she hates my guts.

“Hey,” she grumbles around her toothbrush.

I grin. “Not a morning person?”

“Mornings can suck it. I need coffee.”

“Let me change, and then we can grab some on the way.”

She eyes me in my joggers and hoodie, flicks her eyes to my wet hair, and nods stiffly. “Lemme spit first.”

I arch an eyebrow and smirk, but she glares at me, so I don’t say anything. She disappears back into the bathroom, then returns thirty seconds later.

“All yours.” She gestures behind her, so I grab my clothes and head in to get ready. Normally I would come back to the room to shower after a workout, but since I’ve got a new roomie and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, I went ahead and used the gym facilities. I change my clothes, brush my teeth and then my hair, throwing it all up in a bun, now that it’s long enough, and walk back out to meet Bailey. It takes under five minutes.

“Good?” she asks when I step into the main room. She’s already dressed in her parka jacket and dumb fucking scarf, like she can’t wait to get out of this hotel room, so I shrug on my own coat, and we head out.

After grabbing coffees at the coffee shop on the corner, the car picks us up and whisks us to the convention center, and we go through the whole thing again. Check coats and phones, makeup and microphones, and Bailey talks to that fuckface Trevor. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in the bottom six yesterday and I’m still butthurt about it.

“What do you think it’s going to be today?” she asks me as we wait at our station.

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s something pretty standard, though. Get the easy shit out of the way to weed people out.”

“Weed people like us out, you mean? Because yesterday was a fucking disaster.”

“Hey.” I give her a nudge, so she makes eye contact with me. “Yesterday was rough but we’re still here. Today will be different. Today will be better.”

She scrunches up her nose. “Right.”

“For Brandon and Odette, today will be better. Yeah?”

With that, her worry is replaced by determination. “Yeah. Better.”

We’re called to attention, given the same rundown we were given yesterday, then, like yesterday, we’re provided with a box and an envelope. Bailey picks up the envelope and flips it in her hands.

“Here,” she says, and shoves it at me. “You do it.”

When we’re given the go ahead, I open the envelope. Then I give Bailey the biggest smile.

“Cookies,” I tell her. “It’s cookies.”

Her eyes light up in a way that makes me crave her happiness, and her smile is full of contagious excitement. “We can do cookies,” she whispers.

“We can. We definitely can. Do you have any recipes memorized that you think will work? I don’t think my palets de dame aux raisons will win twice. Plus, none of these judges are French.”

She snorts. “I knew you picked that recipe to suck up to the French owner of Bakery On Main.”

“That and my mom is from France,” I admit. “So both.”

“Yeah, whatever, cheater,” she says, but it’s jokingly. No accusatory malice. Just a playful jab. Then she smiles at me again. “I have an idea!”