Page 10 of Sugar and Spice (Glitter and Sparkle #3)

CHAPTER EIGHT

It’s three o’clock in the afternoon on the longest day known to man. The cookies are waiting for judging, and we just finished with our second interview. My feet ache, my neck is sore, and I am exhausted.

But I’m confident in the cookies we made, even if I’m not looking forward to the judging process.

“You’re a bit shiny,” one of the makeup girls says, patting my forehead with powder before I can so much as blink.

“Thanks.”

She nods and moves off, ready to spread her talc-like fairy dust with the rest of the competitors.

Sadie sits across from me at the table, looking shell-shocked. “I had no idea.”

Judging from the exhausted, nervous expressions the other competitors wear, they are feeling the same way.

Christy and Chrissy prance into the dining area, back from judging. Their unnaturally smooth faces are radiant, which means they must have done well—darn it.

I don’t care for those two, and I won’t shed any tears if they happen to go home.

“Harper, Sadie—you’re up,” Paula says.

Strangely, I’m reminded of a nurse calling my name at the doctor’s office. Sadie and I scramble to our feet, attempt to smooth our aprons, and then follow Paula in.

The cameras are trained on us, and the lights are blindingly bright. The judges sit at a table, waiting. Alexandra and Peter are almost expressionless, but Jonathan flashes us a bright smile. He’s one of last year’s winners, and he more than anyone knows how difficult this is.

In high school, I was in both FBLA and Student Council, so I’m no stranger to public speaking, but this is a whole new league. I swallow, desperately hoping I don’t make a fool of myself.

I glance at Sadie to see how she’s faring. Her eyes are wide and nervous, but she has a sweet smile on her face. She looks like a doll—fragile and adorable. The judges’ expressions soften as soon as they set eyes on her.

Perfect.

My own smile becomes a little more genuine. They won’t go easy on us, but maybe they’ll temper their reactions for darling Sadie’s sake.

“Sadie, Harper,” Mason says, his eyes lingering on me a moment too long as he says my name. “Please tell the judges a little about each of the cookies you made.”

“Your first sample is a soft ginger sandwich cookie with a bittersweet chocolate ganache,” I say, thankful my voice is strong.

Each of the judges takes a bite, none of them speaking. Sadie shifts, terrified.

I’m not sure you can even call Alexandra’s bite a “bite.” It’s more like a kitten nibble. She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t care for your ganache.” She sets the cookie aside. “You said it’s bittersweet, but I’m only getting bitter.”

Peter turns to her. “I disagree. I like the dark flavor, and the cookie is plenty sweet enough to counteract it. In fact, I think the cookie is too sweet, and I’m not getting enough of the molasses flavor.”

Shaking his head, Jonathan finishes his cookie, polishing off the entire thing. When he’s done, he leans forward, his gaze going between both Sadie and me. “I loved it. The texture was spot on, and the sweet, sugary molasses complemented the dark chocolate perfectly. That was a good cookie.”

A smile flutters back to Sadie’s face, and we both nod.

“Sadie, can you tell us about the next cookie?” Mason says after several more minutes of debate.

I wasn’t prepared for the judging to take quite this long. Apparently, we only see a fraction of it on television.

Sadie clears her throat, and her hands flutter before she clasps them at her waist. “The gingerbread cutouts are a variation of my grandmother’s recipe. We always talked about auditioning for the show.”

Peter leans forward, resting on his elbow, and says in his charming British accent, “I’ll bet she’s proud of you for making it here.”

Before she answers, Sadie purses her lips, composing herself. After several moments, she answers, “She passed away last November.”

Every one of them, including Mason, gives her the stricken sad face, each ready to eat out of the palm of her hand.

Sadie braves a smile. “But I think she would be, yes.”

They all bestow her with approving, understanding nods.

“It has a good texture,” Alexandra says after she takes yet another baby bite. “And the flavor is excellent.”

Jonathan nods, but Peter shakes his head. “It’s too soft. A gingerbread cutout should be snappy, something you can dip in tea.”

“No,” Alexandra says curtly. “These are perfect and soft and delicate. Despite the age-old tradition, gingerbread should not break your teeth.” She turns to us. “And your icing is simply beautiful.”

They all seem to agree on that point at least. The three bicker for a while, and then we finally get to the third cookie.

“The last cookie in front of you is a sweet and spicy molasses crinkle cookie,” I say, “topped with turbinado sugar.”

Sadie and I share a look, and we both hold our breaths as they take their first bite. This cookie was a gamble.

Peter looks at us after a few moments, his expression thoughtful. “Is that cayenne?”

We nod.

“You certainly took a chance with that.” His frown deepens. “But I like it—it’s very subtle. If you’d used any more than that, it would have been overpowering.”

My heart decides it can beat again.

Alexandra agrees. “I like it as well. The sugar on top gives it a lovely crunchy texture, while the middle is soft and chewy.”

“Jonathan?” Mason prompts.

The last judge frowns at the half-eaten cookie, thinking. “It’s good. A little different, maybe not something I’d make myself, but it still has a nice traditional flavor.”

I sag with relief. That could have gone so badly.

We are finally dismissed, and we thank the judges and leave. Mason meets my eyes and holds them for several seconds before Paula whisks us away.

I step into the dining area where everyone is waiting with their families, and then I stop dead in my tracks. Sadie ends up running into me, but I barely notice.

“What are you doing here?” I blurt out to the entire room, though I’m looking right at one dark-haired young man in particular.

“Brandon!” Sadie exclaims, and she runs over and tosses herself at him.

He catches her in his arms, but his gaze stays locked on me. My chest constricts in a painful way. I’m thankful when Sadie finally pulls back, making Brandon transfer his attention from me to her.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, beaming. Any fool can see she’s completely besotted with him. For half a second, he gives her a concerned look, something I can’t quite decipher.

And though I don’t want them to, and though I wish with all my heart I could look away, my eyes stray to his hands. He gently pats Sadie’s back before he steps away. The motion is genuinely sweet, softly affectionate, and it makes me want to scream. Or maybe cry. It’s one of the two.

“How did it go?” he asks Sadie, but his gaze again strays to me.

I shrug like I don’t care one way or the other. “It was all right. I think we did well enough to firmly secure our spot in the middle.”

Brandon’s mouth twitches as he suppresses a smile. “The middle? Since when are you satisfied with that?”

He knows I’m not. Of course I’m not. If you’re not here to win—if you’re not going to give it everything you have and a little more—then what’s the point in showing up at all?

I narrow my eyes, refusing to give in to his friendly banter.

With another soft stroke to his girlfriend’s shoulder, he sets her aside. “Hey, Sadie, I’m going to talk to Harper for a moment.”

Wrinkles appear in her brow, but she quickly smooths her features. “Of course.”

Her reaction is off—it’s a strange mix of disappointment, resignation, and denial. And I don’t understand it. If Brandon were mine, I wouldn’t stand idly by while he tells me he’s going to take a few minutes with a different girl.

But he’s not mine; he’s Sadie’s. She must be doing something right.

I try to look cool and collected as Brandon walks my way, but it’s an impossible task. I glance around, wishing I had something to hold or carry—anything to do with my hands.

“Riley wanted me to give you this.” Brandon holds out a folded bundle of fabric.

Eying him, irked that he’s here and that he still has this effect on my stupid, infatuated heart, I take the T-shirt and shake it out.

I try not to smile when I see the little cartoon elephant holding a pom-pom in its trunk, doing what appears to be a battle cry. Above it, the words read, Too Cute to Lose.

It’s ridiculous and has Riley written all over it. I smile despite myself. It’s an extra-large, obviously from a children’s boutique, and even if I can get it on, it will be too tight.

“She tried to ride here with me, but Lauren threatened to never speak with her again.”

Riley got roped into working as a member of the waitstaff for one of Lauren’s Christmas parties on Thursday evening. She and Linus will make the drive Friday. My parents, ever the optimistic sorts, are flying in next Friday for the finals.

Brandon tugs me toward the door. Apparently, our conversation wasn’t finished with the shirt.

Once we’re outside the dining room, Brandon shoves his hands in his pockets and keeps walking.

“I don’t think you should get involved with Mason,” he says, looking straight ahead, toward the lobby and the wall of windows. It’s snowing again; huge, lazy flakes drift from the sky, in no hurry to meet their final destination.

“Excuse me?”

He looks over, his dark blue eyes locking on mine. “Sadie told me you went to his room last night, that you were there for hours.”

I let out a frustrated growl. “I fail to see how any of this is your business.”

“He’s going to hurt you, Harper. Guys like him…they live in a different world.” He narrows his eyes. “The kind with too many options.”

Stopping, I cross my arms, keeping my tone light. “I’m not good enough for him then? Is that what you think?”

Most guys would sputter, say something stupid to amend their words. But I should know better. It’s harder to throw Brandon.

He turns to me, stepping into my space. “Nice try.”

My crossed arms brush his chest, and I gulp. We shouldn’t be this close. It’s wrong, and I know it. Sadie might not be my most favorite person, but I don’t want to hurt her. And if she found us like this, it would definitely hurt.

I take a purposeful step back, and Brandon shoves a hand through his thick, perfectly trimmed chocolate hair. He looks like he wants to say something, something he’s struggling to put into words. “We need to talk about us.”

“There is no us ,” I say, but my heart has found its way to my throat.

“Fine,” he snaps. “We need to talk about Sadie.”

I point a finger at his chest, giving him a little jab. “We’ve done more than enough of that already. She’s your girlfriend. What else is there to say?”

Before Brandon can answer, Mason turns the corner, coming our way from the dining hall. He grins when he sees me, though that smile dims when he notices Brandon. I’m sure it’s evident from the looks on our faces that he’s interrupting something.

Mason stops by my side in a silent, I’m-here-to-provide-backup sort of way.

Irritation is written all over Brandon’s face, but he shrugs it off and dons his ever-friendly expression.

“Mason, this is Brandon.” I falter for just a moment as my eyes flicker between them. “Brandon, Mason.”

“I’m Harper’s good friend,” Brandon says as he extends his hand to Mason.

“And Sadie’s boyfriend,” I add.

Mason narrows his eyes as he smiles, but he accepts Brandon’s hand. I watch the two men’s faces, looking for signs of strain. From the look of it, the handshake is slightly firmer than necessary.

“I need to talk to you about the competition,” I say to Mason, using him to escape.

Mason gives Brandon a satisfied smile, and then he turns to me.

“I’m all yours,” he says, and then he shoots Brandon a smug smile. “If you’ll excuse us.”

He then sets a hand on the small of my back, making a muscle in Brandon’s jaw twitch.

Mason escorts me down the hall, leaving Brandon behind. Unable to help myself, I glance over my shoulder.

Brandon leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching us leave. His eyes are stormy, and I have no doubt he’s going to find a way to finish our conversation later.