Barbara was quiet a moment. She looked right at Dahlia before she asked, “Pardon me if this is rude. But have you and London talked about what will happen when either of you get kicked off ?”
Dahlia tilted her head. She didn’t find this question rude, but it was odd.
“I assume I’ll go back to Maryland and they’ll go back to Nashville? Maybe we’ll follow each other on Instagram?”
Barbara made a small tsk-ing sound under her breath before returning to her muffin.
Dahlia narrowed her eyes.
“Barbara. What are you saying? Did I do something embarrassing with London in front of you or something?”
“What I’m saying, Dahlia, is that it’s clear they want to be more than Instagram friends with you. Ask anyone in this competition. When episodes start airing this week, I bet folks at home will be able to see it, too.”
Dahlia’s mouth hung open.
She couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“Barbara.” Dahlia fidgeted with her phone in her lap. She kept thinking something witty would come to mind to redirect this conversation, but she had nothing.
“You seemed rather cozy with them, too, you know, last night.”
“I was drunk!” Dahlia protested.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Barbara.”
“And you were flirting with them pretty hard at the farm the other day, too.”
“I . . . I was?” Dahlia felt truly bewildered now. “But all I did was make fun of them all day.”
Barbara gave her a pointed look. “I know.”
“But . . . no. Come on, Barbara, you saw all the stuff that happened to them with the cow! It was funny.”
“Yes. But you know, Jacob stepped in a large pile of cow poo. Made quite a scene about it, too. Ayesha knocked over her bucket. Twice. There were other antics going on in the barn, but you were only focused on one.”
“Well,” Dahlia sputtered, “it’s not my fault that Jacob is boring.”
Barbara simply raised an eyebrow.
Dahlia sank back into the loveseat. She felt silly, anxious, like a little kid.
She hadn’t pursued anyone since David, and even way back in high school, it had been David who’d done most of the pursuing. If Dahlia was flirting with London, she wasn’t conscious of it, and shouldn’t a person be conscious of that?
Dahlia remembered, suddenly, how naturally her hands had fallen to London’s hips when they’d been dancing last night.
Oh god. She had no idea what she was doing. She felt like an idiot. Or a jerk. Maybe both.
“Dahlia,” Barbara prodded good-naturedly. “You don’t think they’re cute?”
Dahlia tried to sink even lower into the cushions. Wondered if perhaps she could disappear into them. Of course she thought London was cute. The cutest.
She remembered how they had looked in their bow tie, that cute graphic button-up. What had been the pattern on the shirt? Giraffes, maybe. God, she had gotten too drunk.
Dahlia had to pivot this conversation.
“Okay. Wait. You said the episodes start airing in a week?”
Now Barbara laughed. “Have you not been listening to Janet shout about it? Yes. Less than a week, actually. The first episode airs Thursday night.”
Dahlia breathed out. Less than a week, and everyone would see her trip and scatter her fish tacos all over the set. Less than a week, and everyone would watch London announce their pronouns on national television.
Dahlia realized she barely cared about the former now. But she had an awful sense of foreboding about the latter. People would be awful online. Maybe offline, too. It was so ridiculous. London only wanted to be themself, which hurt absolutely no one—in fact, London being themself was incredible, because it could only help everyone—and it was going to be the worst.
She bit her lip, feeling queasy. She needed food. The greasiest breakfast sandwich she could find.
Dahlia sat up.
“Thanks for, um, this chat.”
Barbara nodded. “I’ll chat with you anytime you want, Dahlia, you know. About anything. I’m in room five-ten.”
“Cool.” Dahlia nodded. She wanted to hug Barbara, badly, but she also wanted to sprint away from this hotel at top speed, and yes, breakfast would be good. “Bye.”
And then Dahlia finally stepped outside and took a deep gulp of fresh air.
She found a perfect breakfast burrito two blocks away. Her first thought, before she could stop it, was, I have to tell London about this place, which made her freeze.
When, over the last two weeks, had I need to tell London about this become her first reaction? Oh my god.