Page 45 of The Interception
On the next play, the guys make sure I have room. I catch the ball and blast full speed down a lane with our best defensemenon either side. There is every chance I make it all the way, so I set my eyes on the end zone and fly.
Twenty yards…ten…five…
I dodge a tackle at the last second and score. Exhaustion from the past couple of weeks might have worn out my mind, but at least my body is still on autopilot. The crowd boos…because we’re not home, after all, but I couldn’t care less. Scoring gets Coach off my back about being distracted.
Leo hoists me off the ground and smacks my back. “Still got it, even with a woman on your mind.”
I shove him and we head to the sidelines. There’s less than two minutes on the clock now, but still, stranger things have happened than a last-minute score. Which is why I’m shocked when Coach nods at me and says, “Hit the bricks, Langley. Go bring home another cook-off trophy for us.”
“What?”
“Go on! Get out of here!” Coach turns his back to me and starts screaming again.
“Better go while the going is good.” Leo smacks my back again. “Good luck.”
“You too. Don’t get beat up.”
He chuckles and raises his helmet. “That’s kind of what I signed up for.”
I grab my bag and bolt to the locker room. With a quick check at the time, I realize if I run straight to my car and miss the traffic, Icouldmake it back to Charleston before the final round. Without a second thought, I run to my truck, throw everything in the back, and set my sights north.
It’s a small miracle that I make it through security and down to the contestants’ area without getting caught by fans. When I reach our table, I realize the time has only recently begun. I stop at the judges’ table to get my official go-ahead.
“Hi,” I pant and take a deep breath. “I’m Ender…Langley…the one who—”
“Go, go!” the judge yells, and motions for me to enter the lower stadium and field. I grab an apron and tie it on while navigating my way toward our assigned table. What I find is an array of ingredients, unopened, on our table, and Layne absolutely frozen. She’s not moving a muscle, not so much as a finger, and the clock is ticking.
“Layne? What’s wrong?” I ask, but she’s glazed over. Her eyes dart from item to another, but she makes zero move to do anything. It can’t be because of the crowd or the cameras. She’s been through this twice already. She knows this recipe. It’s something else. “Layne?” When she still doesn’t respond, I grasp her hand and force her to look at me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Layne
I’m so deep inmy panic, I don’t realize Ender is here until he grasps my hand and pulls me around to look at him. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”
My slight dread morphs into complete panic when I look over at my table of ingredients again. There is nothing I can do, nothing I can change to make this mistake work to our benefit. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I think…I think they gave me the wrong thing, or I was stupid and asked for the wrong thing, but…I have ginger sugar instead of chili pepper and grapefruit instead of garlic.” My eyes sting as tears threaten to break free. Losing this competition means Sarah Beth loses, and in the short span of a few weeks, she’s become a friend I can’t imagine letting down.
“Ginger and grapefruit? Who could…you know what? It doesn’t matter. We’ll figure something out. What else have we got?”
His dark eyes scan the table, and I realize he’s still in his uniform, minus the padding. He’s sweaty and a little smelly, honestly, but he’s here. He’s here for Sarah Beth and for me, and he doesn’t have to be. And I think I ruined it. My distractionwhen I placed the grocery order—because of one phenomenal kiss—probably caused this mess, and now we’re about to lose the whole thing.
“How? What can we possibly make with this mess of ingredients? None of it goes together in any way, and I’m pretty sure if we try, we’re going to make someone sick!”
Ender scowls and palms my face with both hands, forcing me to look up at him.“Listento me, Layne. You’ve got this. I’ve watched you make delicious meals with the most random ingredients, and I know you can do something amazing with whatever we have here. Focus, tell me what does go together, and I’ll see if I can barter something with another table.”
“I don’tknow!I can’t think. We need to win this for Sarah Beth, and we only have half an hour, and I messed it up. I’m so sorry, Ender. I’m—”
“Layne,please. Please tell me what you need from me, and I’ll get it somehow. You are an amazing chef, and I trust you.”
“I don’t know!”
His lips press against mine and everything else around me fades away. My focus shifts to him, and him alone. I recenter, recalibrate my brain enough that I can manage this catastrophe at hand one step at a time. He releases my face and turns me about to face the table again.
“Now, what can we do?” he asks.
Ginger and grapefruit.
Chicken breast. A smattering of other spices, including pickles, which will not go with grapefruit and ginger.
