Chapter 15
Holy crap.
I can’t believe yesterday actually happened.
Apparently, the baking gods were on my side, because Alex and I took the top spot. That win was definitely the turning point between us—if the spur-of-the-moment make-out session in the basement last night is any indication.
I bring my fingers to my lips, remembering the heat of his kiss pressing against me. I should be embarrassed by how readily my body responded to him, especially since before that moment, I was pretty sure he just barely tolerated me.
But, I’m not.
Alex showed me a new side of himself. A side that runs far deeper than the dismissive, sarcastic, standoffish persona he uses most of the time.
I kick my feet under my blankets, stifling a giggle at the thought of getting to pull back all those broody layers and finding the soft, gooey parts of him underneath.
And make no mistake about it, I’ll do exactly that.
I reach for my phone to check the time and find it’s a little after nine a.m. I haven’t slept in this late in…
I don’t know how long.
Leisurely, I stretch my arms and legs, enjoying the tingling happiness of waking up on my own instead of to a screaming alarm.
Pulling on a pair of comfortable sweatpants, I shove my sleep shorts into the already packed duffle bag at my feet. Before crashing into bed last night, I took a few minutes to cram all my belongings into my bag to save time and stress today.
Thank you, Past Me, for looking out for Future Me.
I swing my duffle bag over one shoulder and head downstairs to find something to eat before hitting the road back to Cambria.
I’m freaking starving this morning.
My brows pull together as I try to recall when the last time I ate was. It honestly might have been the chocolate chip muffin I snagged from one of the production tables yesterday morning.
The main floor is unsettlingly quiet compared to how loud it was in the beginning of the season.
But I guess that’s what happens when half the house has already been sent home.
My heart aches, remembering the devastated look on Chloe’s face when she and Khalil were announced as the casualties of the double elimination.
I turn into the kitchen and find Alex sitting on a stool at the counter with a coffee mug in hand, scrolling through his phone.
He doesn’t notice me at first, and I take the opportunity to appreciate this relaxed, off-guard version of him, with tousled hair and the same hoodie on that he was wearing last night.
Alex always looks good. He’s usually very put together, dressed in business casual attire even while baking inside a canvas tent with ovens blasting in the middle of a California summer.
But phew, he looks even better dressed down, casual.
“Aw, Alex,” I say, voice chipper, reaching for his coffee mug playfully. “Super nice of you to make a cup of joe for me!”
He looks up, his sharp blue eyes softening as he takes me in. What used to be a cold, icy stare is now an inviting pool of crystalline blue.
“Take a seat, I’ll make you a cup.”
I shake my head with a soft laugh. “I was joking, I can make my own coffee.”
“I know you can,” he responds with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “But I don’t mind.”
“No, really. You’re already comfy-cozy with your own cup. Besides, it’s just a Keurig, right? I can totally handle that on my own.”
I take a step toward the coffee machine, but Alex rises, blocking my path across the kitchen.
“Taylor,” his voice is a low command. “I said, sit down.”
The authority in his voice hits low in my belly, and I have no choice but to comply. When I sink down onto the nearest stool, he quirks his eyebrow at me, then smirks over his shoulder as he turns and reaches for the Keurig.
Making out with Alex in the practice kitchen and waking up to him preparing coffee for me the next day wasn’t on my bingo card for today, but I’m totally here for it.
And it’s actually really nice being taken care of for once. I’ve been on my own for so long, struggling to make ends meet, and the guys I sporadically spend time with are definitely not the “sit down, I’ve got this” type.
Maybe that’s the difference between a guy and a man.
Minutes later, steam from a mug of hazelnut coffee that’s been swirled with the perfect amount of cream curls toward my face while Alex leans on the counter across from me with a lazy smile.
I never told him how I take my coffee—he just knows.
Butterflies ping-pong in my stomach, and I wrack my brain for something to say, because chatting over coffee is a totally normal thing people do.
“Only a few more weeks left before the finale. Are the nerves setting in for you at all yet, or do you plan on being unmovable and unshakeable for the whole season?” I ask, propping my chin in my hand.
His lips quirk. “I planned on the latter.”
“Of course you were.” I tease, rolling my eyes.
“I don’t know, Taylor. Baking doesn’t make me nervous anymore. I’ve done it for so long that it’s just second nature at this point.”
I hum in response, unsure how to answer, because I’ve been baking for a long time too, but the competition part of this whole experience is static in my veins.
He cocks his head, studying me and it’s like he can see right through my optimistic exterior.
“You don’t think you’re good enough to be here?”
The question surprises me. I straighten where I sit. Do I think I’m good enough to be here? In theory, I believe that I am. In practice, I haven’t done as well as I thought I would, and that stings.
I can’t bear to tell all of that to Alex, though, so instead I beam a smile his way and shrug dismissively before turning the question around on him.
“You’ve had a good run here. You’re freaking amazing, so you have a really good shot at winning the whole show. What are you going to do with the money if you take it all?”
I’m not sure what kind of answer I expect, but I’m hoping he gives me something whimsical. If he says he’s going to pay off student loans, I might scream.
He eyes me warily, expression suddenly guarded. “I don’t know. Haven’t thought much about it.”
My face scrunches up. Somehow, that’s worse than wanting to pay off debt. “What do you mean you haven’t thought about it? Don’t tell me you’re here because you just really want that platinum rolling pin.”
“The what? I don’t know what that means. But no, I don’t care about that either.” Three lines crease between his eyebrows as he frowns.
“What other reason is there to be here?” I sigh, confused, sipping from my mug and letting the warmth swirl across my tongue before swallowing.
Alex runs his hands along the counter as he straightens but doesn’t speak. His expression has gone completely unreadable in the silence. Back and forth, his fingers trace the edge of the marble. The shift unsettles me, and weight of everything he isn’t saying is claustrophobic.
“Winning is important to my family. My father is the one who signed me up and insisted I come on the show. My being here wasn’t optional, so here I am.” His tone is clipped. “My answer is boring. I’m far more interested in what you would do if you won.”
I stare into the coffee mug that’s now clutched between both hands, wanting to push Alex to tell me whatever he’s holding back but not willing to risk this moment with him.
Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I decide that the only way he’s going to trust me with the secret pieces of himself is if I go first.
“I want to open my own bakery,” I start, lifting my eyes to meet his and praying I don’t see judgment in them. His entire body relaxes, and an encouraging smile plays on his lips, so I keep going.
“Picture an old-fashioned ice cream or soda shop, with the checkered tile floors, chrome bar stools, the whole shebang. The awnings outside are a bright neon pink, and there’s an accent wall of the same shade behind the bar.
” My eyes crinkle at the corners as I squint, envisioning Taylor’s Treats in my mind’s eye.
“Keep going,” Alex whispers, eyes dancing over my face.
“I see my bakery as a place of happiness for the community. A bright spot in the neighborhood where people come because they know they’re loved and welcome.
I want to put my own flavor spins on all the classic pastries and create incredible custom orders for birthdays, baby showers, and all the best moments in people’s lives.
I want to make the world feel a little lighter, you know?
Help people believe things can be good again. ”
Alex stays quiet, that small, reserved smile on his face, during my entire TED Talk.
I realize I’m smiling so wide that my cheeks hurt, and heat floods my face.
I’m sure he didn’t want to hear all of that, but once I got started, I just couldn’t stop myself.
I bite my lip, tucking my hair behind my ear, and look away.
“Sorry, that was a lot. The short version is that I’d like to start my own business.”
Alex shifts, coming around the counter and using two fingers under my chin to guide my gaze back to his. “Hey, don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t hide from me after you just shared your dreams. It’s a beautiful idea, Taylor. I can see you doing all of that. You won me over, and I hate everybody. If there’s anybody out there who can make that dream a reality, it’s you.” He says it quietly, nodding to emphasize his words.
When I don’t respond, he uses his thumb and forefinger—still under my chin—to move my head in a small nod.
Emotion swells behind my eyes, and I blink back the tears threatening to fall. It feels good to be validated by someone like Alex. If someone so put together and talented believes in me, then there’s no reason I shouldn’t also fully believe in myself.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice catching.
He rubs his thumb along my cheek, then presses a quick kiss to my forehead. I close my eyes, savoring the feeling.