“Isn’t it obvious?” London swept their arm over the scenery. “Tennessee is green.”
Dahlia thought this over. “Sure. This is pretty too, though, right? In a . . . less green way.”
“No, it is. It is. I just could never live here year-round.”
“Really?”
“You could?” London lifted a brow. “I mean, you’re from the East Coast, right? Could you imagine living in a place that didn’t have real seasons? Where the leaves didn’t change colors in the fall?”
“I do like seasons. But . . . ” London waited, watching Dahlia’s Thoughtful Face. The one she got when she was planning out a recipe, her eyes slightly narrowed, her mouth pinched on one side. “California does have palm trees. And you have to admit, palm trees are spectacular.”
“I do not have to admit anything. They freak me out a little, to be honest.”
Dahlia gasped. “Are you serious? Oh my god, I love them.”
“They look like an alien species.” London shook their head. “Like . . . they make no sense.”
Dahlia shook her head back at them. “You’re wrong. They’re fantastic.”
They stood in amiable silence for a few minutes. The morning was still cool, and London liked the breeze, the lightly sweet scent from the wildflowers that lined the parking lot.
“You really like Tennessee, huh,” Dahlia said eventually, a funny half question, half statement, but London answered anyway.
“I do. Nashville, in particular. It’s not too big, not too small, even if it is gentrifying fast. You really should visit, with Hank. It’s famous for great food and great music. And there are seasons. What more could you want?”
“You think you’ll live there forever?” Dahlia asked.
“Probably. Yeah.” London shrugged.
“And it’s where you’ve always lived.”
London shot Dahlia a curious glance. She was still staring out at the horizon, but she was asking these questions strangely, slowly, like London enjoying where they were from was a recipe she didn’t understand.
“Yeah.”
“Huh,” she said again.
“Okay, you lot, look alive!” Janet clapped her hands and called them to attention before London could find out further what was actually happening behind Dahlia’s Thoughtful Face. Janet stood on a log across the parking lot, the early-morning sun shining through her bronze curls. “You’ll be getting all of your instructions for today from the judges as we film, so be on your toes. We’ve never worked with this farm, so”—she shot laser eyes out at all of them—“don’t embarrass us in front of these people. And make sure you look jazzed about all this nature shit. Okay! Eyes on Audra.”
A PA counted down, and the cameras were on.
“I am extremely pleased,” Audra began, “to lead you to your lovely companions for episode five of season eight.”
And she did look pleased. She was wearing a light green and blue flannel over dark jeans. London had never, not once, seen ultrafeminine Audra Carnegie dress like a lesbian before, and they were pleasantly surprised by it.
She spun on her heel and walked toward a rustic barn at the far end of the first field. The contestants followed, dust kicking up beneath their shoes.
Once they arrived, Audra shoved aside the barn door with a dramatic flourish.
“Oh no,” London muttered, their good mood dropping down to the soles of their feet.
“Oh my god,” Dahlia whispered, grinning from ear to ear. As if to counterbalance London’s unease, whatever mood she’d been in when they departed the bus had officially disappeared. “Yes.”
And then she actually clutched London’s arm. Which would have been a much more exciting moment for London had they not been surrounded by the pungent, nefarious aroma of bovines.
“They are so cute.”
Dahlia seemed to realize what she was doing a second later, and quickly dropped her hand from London’s arm, her cheeks flushing slightly. London stared at her.
“Cows are not cute. They are dangerous.”
Slowly, purposefully, Dahlia turned her body to face London fully.
“Dangerous,” she repeated.
“Yes,” London huffed, crossing their arms, trying to ignore how they could still feel the spot on their bicep where Dahlia had touched them, about to explain that cows were of course dangerous, when Sai Patel interrupted them.
“Graham Family Farm has been producing food for the greater Los Angeles area for over three generations, providing produce and dairy products to local restaurants, stores, and food banks. The first thing you need to know is that we will not be doing any cooking challenges here. Today is about education and appreciation of the systems that sustain us.