The truth was that London had gotten very good at pretending Lizzie didn’t exist on set, but they were only pretending to pretend. Like they pretended with their dad. Like they pretended almost every hour of every day that they were in public.
The fact that London would always be surrounded by people who either didn’t approve of their identity or didn’t understand their identity was not a fact that could simply be ignored. London could push it away in order to exist. But it was always lurking in the shadows, making London on guard for how they should act, what they should say in front of other human beings.
They had become so used to this mode of existence that they only truly comprehended the depths of it when they imagined what the opposite would feel like. If there was a society where everyone rejected the binary, where gender norms didn’t exist at all, where bodies were just bodies, every one real and valid and equally human, and you didn’t have to worry about what people were assuming or not assuming about you.
The idea made London feel so light and free that it was only then that they fully felt the weight of the invisible stress they carried, compacted in their bones.
Except they didn’t feel that stress when they were with Dahlia. When London was alone with Dahlia, their subconscious could let go.
And when Dahlia said Lizzie’s name, it was like London’s stress brain jumped forward into London’s Dahlia brain and ran around inside with muddy feet, leaving dirty stains on the floor.
When the sixty minutes were up, London glanced behind them again. They were extremely pleased with their cake, but Lizzie’s, which London had heard her tell the judges was called Strawberry Lemonade Afternoon, was stunning. The icing was perfectly scraped around the sides, offering artistic peeks of the lemon-yellow cake beneath. It looked airy and decadent all at once. The sugared strawberries on top were plump and bright. Lizzie had cut herself a piece and sunk a forkful into her mouth with a satisfied hum.
With Lizzie’s existence now more pressing in London’s consciousness, they also had to accept how excellent she was. Lizzie was a true contender.
Lizzie could win it all.
And wouldn’t that just be fucking typical.
“Damn,” Tanner Tavish said when London brought up their cake. He tapped the tines of his fork against his mouth. “That is a good cake.”
“I agree.” Audra nodded. “The flavor combination here is stellar. The richness of the chocolate and coffee really come through, but then your tongue finishes on the freshness of the mint. And your decoration of the smashed peppermint around the sides is so well done. It could’ve looked messy, but you’ve made it look sophisticated. Really lovely.”
“You knocked it out of the park,” Sai said.
This would have been a good day, London thought.
Dahlia did well, too. She looked shocked to be in the top three, but the judges had really liked it.
“The ganache is smooth as velvet,” Sai said. “The cake is rich, but the tartness and sweetness of your raspberry filling balances it out perfectly. Sure, the flavors could have been more creative, but this is a well-executed dessert. Nice work.”
London won the challenge. But for the first time all day, Dahlia’s glow reappeared.
She was so pretty when she was happy.
London’s chest hurt.
And then Ahmed was kicked off.
Creative thinking had not apparently helped Ahmed’s cake, which didn’t have enough time to finish baking, which was too hot for his icing to even attempt to adhere to.
Once the cameras turned off, London walked over to him to say goodbye, feeling ready to punch something.
“Hey, London.”
Ahmed actually smiled at them. In fact, Ahmed was almost beaming.
“Look, that was shitty, Ahmed. I’m sorry.” London crossed their arms over their chest and shook their head. This disadvantage had been unfair.
“It’s cool. It’s a competition.” Ahmed shrugged. “If anything, it surprised me they thought I was enough of a threat to give me the disadvantage. Almost made me a little cocky there for a second.”
London tried to smile. They realized, with clarity, how much they liked Ahmed. Ahmed had smiled at London during the meet-and-greet dinner. Ahmed and London were not friends, necessarily, but Ahmed had always been cool with them. London had been really lucky, they knew, getting Ahmed as a tablemate for so much of this competition. His acceptance had let London feel comfortable, had given space for them to cook at their best.
One more person London could slot into the You can relax side of their brain. And now he was leaving.