London laughed. They had watched that, and it had been hilarious. They must have forgotten to reply. That backpack had to be seriously heavy to knock Julie over.
Between this sudden burst of laughter and the adrenaline in their system about the cooking camp, London almost felt halfway alive again.
“I’m sorry. I did watch it. I’ve been distracted.”
“Did something happen? Did you get kicked off the show?”
“No.” London spotted a coffee shop across the street. They stabbed at the button at the crosswalk, waited for the orange hand to change. “Again, I’m not really supposed to tell you anything. But I’m in the top three.”
“Holy shit, London. So you just have to get through one more challenge and you’re in the finale?”
“Yeah.” London hurried through the intersection.
“Oh my god. Oh my god, London, you’re going to win.”
“Eh. Probably not. Hold on, I’m going to go order a coffee and I’m not going to be that asshole talking on their phone at the counter.”
“London—” they heard Julie shout, but they were already muffling her against their chest, walking up to a sleek black counter to order their Americano.
“Okay, so what’s up?” London cradled the phone between their ear and shoulder after they’d gotten their drink, adding milk from the carafe station before walking back outside. “Did you really just call to yell at me about not answering your texts?”
“Why don’t you think you’re going to win?” Julie demanded, ignoring the question.
“There’s this woman Cath, she’s really good. Better than me probably. I wouldn’t be upset if she won. And then there’s—”
London stopped midstep and midsentence. They still didn’t want to tell Julie about Lizzie. They didn’t want to even have to say Lizzie’s name. So they didn’t.
“And then there’s who? Who’s the last contestant? Is it—wait. Wait, London, is the last contestant Dahlia?”
London sat down on a bench.
“No.”
“Oh,” Julie breathed. “So . . . she’s gone?”
“Yeah.” London kicked at a piece of trash on the ground. “Left Tuesday night.”
London had told Julie some basic details about Dahlia last week. Even if they hadn’t, turning their notifications back on had alerted them to the fact that everyone in the world apparently knew about them and Dahlia.
Almost every hour, London got more likes on the dumb photos they had posted last weekend, running around LA together, eating at taco trucks and taking selfies in front of tourist traps. And because they were a glutton for punishment, they couldn’t make themself delete them.
“Wait,” Julie said. “So what’s happening? Are you going to do long distance, or—”
“No.” London opened their mouth to explain more, and faltered. They were still so confused about what the fuck had happened this week that they didn’t have words for it. “It . . . appears not.”
“Oh,” Julie said again, soft and concerned. “Oh, London.” A pause. “Why not?”
London took a long drink of their Americano.
“She doesn’t want to.”
Julie guffawed into the phone. “I highly doubt that, London. That latest picture you posted, where you’re eating ice cream and she’s looking at you and laughing, I swear to god I have never seen anything so pure and—”
“I asked her to refuse the show’s plane ticket back to Maryland, to stay with me and then come to Nashville, or I would go with her, whatever, and she basically told me to go fuck myself, so yeah, maybe you should believe it.”
London huffed out an aggravated breath.
Maybe Dahlia hadn’t used those exact words. The more time went by, the more London could barely remember what either of them had said, exactly.
But . . . well, it had felt like she said that.
Julie was quiet for a long moment.
“I mean . . . did you ever talk about what would actually happen? If either of you got kicked off ?”
London racked their brain. As they had been doing all week. They were positive they must have, at some point. After all, that was why London had rejected Dahlia’s kiss in Malibu in the first place. Because they had been thinking things through. They had . . .
They had raced to her room a mere few days later and slept with her and then never looked back.
London ran a hand over their face. They assumed their silence was answer enough.