Page 31 of I'll Be the One

AS SOON AS THE WORDS LEAVE MY MOUTH, Irealize it sounds like I’m asking him out.

“Not as a date or anything,” I quickly add. “It’s just that if you’re hungry, I know this really good taco truck in Koreatown. And I’ve been craving tacos forweeks.”

I think about asking Tiffany and everyone else if they want to tag along, too, but then I remember how Henry’s manager was nervous about me not being vetted, so I can’t imagine how she’d react to more strangers. As awkward as it’ll probably be, maybe Henry and I are better off going by ourselves.

Henry cocks his head in a contemplative gesture and runs his hand through his hair as he glances behind us at Portia and Steve. “I’ll have to ask Portia about my schedule, but if she says I’m free, I’m down. Come to think of it, I don’t think I even ate dinner last night.”

“You don’t think?” I practically yell. A few people turn around to see what’s going on. I’m glad the camera crew is onbreak, because this isnotsomething I want on camera. “What were you even doing yesterday?”

Even as I’m saying all of this, I inwardly cringe. Everyone’s stares make me self-conscious, and for a half second, I’m afraid Henry will crack a “joke” about why I’m so “obsessed with food,” like a lot of people think fat people are. But he doesn’t. In fact, he actually looks kind of touched that I’m bringing this up.

“I honestly don’t remember,” he says. “My schedule’s so busy these days that I just... forget to eat or sleep sometimes. It’s really bad, I know. But yeah, let’s definitely go get tacos afterward if I’m free. Thanks for the suggestion.”

Henry’s team doesn’t seem happy about the idea, but they still meet us in front of the studio after practice. Henry himself, however, has a really bright smile on his face, like a little kid about to go to the candy store.

“How did you convince them to let you go?” I whisper to Henry as we walk across the parking lot.

“Oh, I just told them it’d be a great partner-bonding activity. Which is true. We’re going to have to becomeverycomfortable with each other for the next few weeks.”

He raises his eyebrows, and I look away before our eyes can meet. I’m still reeling from today’s turn of events, but that doesn’t mean I want to let my guard down around him. We might have to get through this round together, but at the end of the day, he’s still competition. With only ten people left after this round, I definitely can’t afford to get distracted by him.

I only asked him out for tacos because I was genuinely concerned for him as a fellow human being. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself as we pile into the car.

Henry’s car is a black Suburban SUV like the ones I’ve seen celebrities riding around in LA. Henry gets in the back with me, while Portia rides shotgun.

“Okay,” I say when I’m settled in my seat. “So, what’s the real reasonyouagreed to come with me for tacos?”

“Oh, you know. You’re probably my biggest threat in this show, so I need some time to get to know you and figure out your weaknesses.”

He says it in such a deadpan voice that it’s hard to tell if he’s kidding or not.

“Seriously?”

Henry shakes his head with a laugh, his face instantly melting into his dorky grin. “Nah, I’m kidding. I’m a total Hufflepuff. No backstabbing here. Just a lot of emotional crying.”

I snort. “Can’t relate. I’m Slytherin.”

I don’t mention that I wasjustthinking about us being competition and how I need to beat him—in true Slytherin fashion.

Henry gasps, looking scandalized. “Oh no, should I fear for my well-being? Check for poison in my kombucha?”

“Kombuchaispoison,” I reply in the same deadpan tone Henry used before.

Henry guffaws, and I can’t help but smile.

“Just kidding,” I continue. “You’re safe. For now. I still need you for this round!”

“Oh, of course.” Henry’s smiling too. “Well, that’s a relief. Okay then, let me ask you the same question. What’s therealreason you asked to get tacos?”

I hesitate and then say, “Well, first of all, I love tacos, so I’m always down to get some. And then... well, you just seemed really hungry. And exhausted.”

As I say those words, I realize how right I am. I was too preoccupied with practice to notice before, but now I see the slight dark circles around his eyes.

“You noticed?” Henry asks, his voice growing soft. But I pretend not to hear him. Instead, I give Steve the directions to the taco truck and stare out the window as we drive through LA.

The sky is light blue and cloudless as always, and tall palm trees line both sides of the street. The trees and sun are the only consistent things about LA, since the buildings change depending on which neighborhood we’re driving through. As we approach downtown, the hipster cafes and Spanish-style houses give way to concrete office buildings and glass skyscrapers.

“So,” Henry says after a while. “Would you believe me if I said that I’ve never had tacos before?”

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