Page 38 of The Interception
Ender
Hey, I have a problem I need to work out with the schedule. Can you meet me for breakfast?
My assumption that he means our testing and his practice schedule feels too easy a solution. For him to message me and ask to meet, it has to be something more. What if he can’t meet me at all before the next round? That would be awful. I tap out a reply and dump my coffee into a to-go mug, grab the keys, and pray Ender isn’t about to blow everything up.
I arrive at the café and find Ender already in a corner booth. When I approach, he scoots over, encouraging me to sit on the same side. I don’t like the look on his face, so I brace myself for whatever he’s about to say and slide in beside him.
“We have a problem.” He runs his hands over his face. “A couple of weeks ago, a game was postponed due to severe weather. It’s been rescheduled.”
“Okay, is that the bad news?”
“No, the bad news is that it’s been rescheduled for the same day as our final round. I can’t miss the game. My contract will be terminated if I don’t show up.”
I shake my head, confused. “Wait, the cook-off is at the stadium. Wouldn’t they need to reschedule that if you’re having the game there?”
“It’s an away game, believe it or not, in Savannah.” Ender groans again. “I’m so sorry, Layne. I’m not sure what we can do at this point. I can’t lose my contract.”
“No, of course not. I understand. What time is the game?”
“Noon. If it doesn’t go into overtime and Coach lets me drive myself, Icouldbe back in Charleston between five and six, but no guarantee at all.”
“And the competition starts at six on the dot.” I drop my face into my hands. “What do we do? Are we just done?”
“I thought about asking the organizers if you can do it yourself. We can plan it all out, test it a few times so you can get your timing down, then if they will allow me to join you when I arrive, we can finish it up together.”
“That’s a lot of wishful thinking, Ender. I’m not sure they’ll let us do that.”
“We can ask, right?”
“Sure, yeah, but that’s a lot riding on me. I’m not sure I’m good enough to make the final dish and do it in the best time. We’re barely sitting in our current spot. If I mess up, it’s over. Assuming they even agree.”
I don’t realize how close I am to crying until a tear slips free.
“Hey, I have faith in your ability. You are an amazing chef, and I’m positive we can make this work out.” His voice, so soothing and gentle, almost has me thinking he might be right. Then he presses a soft kiss to my temple and my whole world tilts. “You can do it. I know you can. Let’s go talk to the organizers and see if it’s even a possibility, then we can start working on what we’ll do, and getting your time down with prep. Sound good?”
I mindlessly nod because I’m still working to figure out what that temple kiss was about. The way he acts, it’s like he doesn’t even realize he did it. How could he not know hekissed me?I lick my lips, and he goes silent. His eyes bounce between my lips and my eyes, then settle on my nose.
“Uh…Layne? Should we go? I can drive us or…you know, we can ride separately.” He looks at me as if this isn’t the first time he’s presented this option to me, and I realize I’ve spent a great deal of time in silence trying to figure out what is happening to my mushy brain right now.
“Right. Yes. Judges, the plan. I’ll um…drive myself.” I slip out of the seat but Ender grasps my wrist and pulls me back in. I’m not sure what to expect, but it isn’t him cupping my face and forcing me to focus on him.
“It’s going to work out. I promise. Somehow we’ll make sure you get your restaurant.” He brushes his thumb over my jaw and every ounce of resolve I had to keep this professional between us dissolves on the spot.
“And help Sarah Beth,” I whisper.
“Right. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.”
I nod and he releases me. Taking the opportunity to catch my breath, I head to the door a few steps ahead of him. He still manages to get to it before me and holds it open. If he walks me to the truck and helps me inagain,I’ll die. I need some space, a little time to rebuild my…what was it again? Oh yeah, my resolve. That’s it. The determination I’m supposed to be using to ensure I don’t lose the competitionandget my heart broken at the same time.
“I’ll meet you there,” I call and rush to the truck, passing his as I go.
He says something I don’t hear, probably agreeing with me, but I double-time it anyway. The drive to the stadium to meet with the organizers will help me clear my head. I hope. I’m doing a lot of that lately.
Wishful thinking never did a thing for anyone, and my hopes that I’d somehow rebuild my wall of resistance on the short drive to the stadium was as foolish as any wishful thought has everbeen. The moment he steps out of his truck and slams the door closed, I melt. In fact, I’m staring at him so intently that it does not occur to me to open the door to my own vehicle and get out until he stops at the door and opens it for me. There isn’t much wiggle room for me to slip out without touching him, but I manage.
“I’m a little nervous about what they’ll say, but somehow we’ll figure it all out.”
I’m not sure if he’s trying to reassure himself or me, but there’s really no way to know how the organizers will feel about the situation until we talk to them. No amount of worrying will solve this problem. I am a little concerned that the other contestants might see me as weak without Ender there to help me, which means they’ll make my life miserable during the competition. Or they could see it as favoritism that the organizers are flexible with us. Or everything will be fine, butI’llbe the one to put so much stress on myself that I fail.
