Page 2 of Sugar Lips

I’m just about to start rolling it out when I hear a voice say, “Hey, Elizabeth? Can I use your rolling pin?”

Looking up, my eyes land on none other than Jackson.

Oh, God. Now he hasbothshirtsleeves rolled up. And up close, his arms are even more toned.

“I’m using it,” I say, averting my eyes from his arms.

“I’ll be super quick,” he says. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “I broke mine. I don’t know how, but I did.”

I almost make a joke about his forearms being too strong. But…yeah. Not going to go there.

“Can’t you ask somebody else?” I say. “Like I said, I’m using it.”

“Forget it,” he grunts, and walks away, heading over to bug another contestant.

And although I don’t want them to, my eyes follow him. It’s like my eyes are magnetically drawn to him, even when my brain is shouting,Stop! No!

Then a voice behind me says, “Hey, Elizabeth. How’s it going so far?”

Startled, I twist around and see Ben standing behind me. He’s got a cameraman with him, too.

Immediately, I straighten my posture and smile.

Seventy-five minutes later,the judges are biting into my cauldron cookies, and I’m silently freaking out about their reactions. Or, rather, their lack of reactions.

When is one of them going tosaysomething?

Finally, one of them speaks up—Tati, aka the Baking Queen. “You said there’s lemon in these, right?”

I nod. “Yes. They’re lemon pistachio.”

“Well, unfortunately, neither flavor is coming through strong enough for me. The texture’s lovely, though.”

My heart sinks. I look at the other two judges, Derek and Monica, desperately hoping they’ll disagree.

“I feel the same way,” says Derek, wiping a crumb from the corner of his mouth. “And your poison apple cookies…those could definitely use a little punch, too.”

“Well,Ilove them all,” says Monica.

It’s too late, though. Two judges who think my cookies are flavorless? Shit. There’s no way I’m continuing on to the next round.

“Thank you,” I say, and get back in line, feeling on the brink of tears.

There’s three more contestants left after me. One of them, Samira, hits it out of the park with her skeleton cookies. Another contestant, Michael, even gets a request from one of the judges for his recipe.

Last to go is Jackson, who has made cookies that look like giant spiders, ones with worms poking out, and ones covered in tiny chocolate ants.

“Fantastic,” Tati says. “Jackson! The chocolate and espresso? My God. It’s like heaven.”

The judges convene for a while, then call us back in. This is a cutthroat competition, and three of us are going to be sent home. I know I’m going to be one of those three. Still, I hold out hope.

Derek calls out the first few names of the safe contestants. Monica calls out three more.

“And the last person to make it through to round two,” says Tati. “Is Elizabeth.”

Relief surges through me. I made it. Imadeit. The six of us who are safe hug the three bakers who are going home, telling them how sorry we are. As soon as they exit the studio, though, the remaining six of us cheer and give each other hugs.Allof us. Before I realize what’s happening, I have my arms around Jackson and he has his arms around me.

And in that moment, my stomach fills with cliché butterflies. My skin tingles. My mouth goes dry.

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