Not that I got a chance to find out what would happen because Justin was conspicuously absent, and the way he’d backed off last night just made me feel as if there was something wrong, and that it went deeper than kissing a fellow competitor.
Another text from Marc, only this one was a heartfelt please can we talk.
I didn’t even bother replying, but between that and Justin, of course, I was starting to spiral. I went right back to the fact that he’d been encouraged to flirt with me, and that the kiss was a means to an end, the same goes for the photos Erin the PA had accidentally taken. I went from thinking I should go up and make sure he was okay, right back to imagining us fighting. I hated confrontation, so to avoid that final scenario I went out for a quick walk, checked on Jeremy and sat for a little while on the infamous bench then headed back to my room.
I thought about knocking on his door and asking if he was okay. I even took a long pause on the stairs on my floor wondering if I should continue on up, but there was a reason he wasn’t at dinner, and I had to respect that.
So with resignation I headed to my room.
Setting up for the sugar work challenge, Justin smiled at me as if nothing had happened between us, but that was about it, as we all had to concentrate on the delicate work we were doing.
The sugar work challenge couldn’t have gone more perfectly for me. There was cursing and crashing, and more cursing, particularly from Ivan, who couldn’t quite get his blown bumble bee to stay the shape he wanted. At least, he’d actually created something with blown sugar-glass. The rest of us had relied on making stretched sugar effects, and I’d melted candy to make the windows and curled wisps of the stuff to make leaves. There was just a general brief that we had to create a layered entremet with decorative sugar work. The entremet itself was a multi-layered mousse-based cake, and I had that done with ease. But as a baker I didn’t use much blown, spun, or stretched sugar to decorate my bakes, so yeah, I was nervous. With the layers for my espresso caramel entremet chilling in the blast freezer, I set about making my stained-glass window. The general idea wasn’t so much church, but a coffee morning and quiet peace. I wasn’t aiming for complicated but for rainbow colors that reflected the sugar work of a bouquet of roses.
I couldn’t see what Justin was doing, but whatever it was seemed taller than mine and more complicated, but I stuck with the intricacies of fragile sheets of opaque colored glass from sugar along with delicate piped coffee roses. We had four hours, but by the end of hour three I was exhausted. We all were, and it showed. Ivan was on edge. Kristen seemed to be staring into the refrigerator every time I looked over, and Clare was mumbling to herself. We’d been told that if anyone dropped something, the rest of us were to exchange glances and pitying looks. They’d be lucky if they got a shot of one of us even caring about anyone else when our own works were so close to toppling or being knocked into a million sugar shards.
We were five minutes from the end and I had everything in place. Ivan had finally finished his creation of a waterfall. Kristen was also done, hers an hourglass filled with sugar sand. I couldn’t see Clare’s properly, but from here it looked like a nest or something. However, the one I was really interested in was the tower that Justin had created. Above his raspberry and white chocolate entremet was a trellis with a climbing flower, and it was stunning.
He didn’t seem happy though, he was staring at it as if it had personally insulted him and was checking it from all angles. I could see that the balance was slightly off, but he shouldn’t fuss with it, not when the judges were heading our way.
A few seconds to go until judging and the flower began to slide. I tried to warn him. I could see from here that one touch and the flower would crumble. I’m not sure he even touched it, but one of the tiny flowers fell to the counter and smashed. The noise of it was horrifyingly loud in the silent room, and I didn’t have to pretend to be upset for him. Justin still had a showpiece, but that last delicate bloom had been the best of them.
He stared at the pieces on the floor, but he didn’t look upset, instead I think he was genuinely in shock. I moved around the debris to him immediately.
“It’s okay,” I reassured, aware that the camera was right in our faces and turning my head so they just had a view of my hair.
“It wasn’t right anyway,” he said in a dull voice.
“It was beautiful, but it’s okay, you still have a wonderful display.” I kept my voice low and only loud enough for him to hear it. Fuck the cameras and the show because I’d seen his face when he moved to touch his display—worry, disappointment, even fear. He looked as though his whole world was as fragile as the spun sugar.
I was ushered back to my counter, but I kept a clear line of sight to Justin even if the cameras got in the way now and then. Tripping over a cable wasn’t going to look good on the show, but Justin needed something. Me to be a wall he could hide behind? Maybe. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I needed to find out.
You’re forever trying to fix things. That was what my mom said to me, and she was right. I didn’t like to see people upset, and it didn’t matter if it was a broken-down car or a relationship ending, I was always the one that could be depended on to have someone’s back.
The judging was upside down. Justin was third, they said he’d be first, but that his execution had been lacking for it to crack and fall at the last second. I thought they might have mentiond that the studio lights played havoc with melted glassy sugar, but no, they just laughed. Cruel and unnecessary, and I’d be taking that up with Rita when I saw her next. I was second. Clare first with her take on a spun sugar birds nest decorating her chocolate panna cotta and berry mousse entremet. Kristen came fourth. Ivan fifth, and it was obvious that Kristen would be the next to go home. She’d finished low in all three parts and there was no way they’d send any one of us four home.
We were right. She was the next one to leave, but from the way Ivan gripped her and reassured her he would see her soon, I wondered how long he’d last.
Would that leave me, Clare, and Justin as the last three standing? Who knew.
Justin ran as soon as they gave us the all clear after the sound bites and reminded us we had a day off tomorrow before filming of episode three began the day after, but I couldn’t go after him immediately because I was caught in a hug with Kristen and Ivan. By the time I was out front he’d vanished.
He didn’t make it to dinner or arrive to help me fix Jeremy, and that was why it seemed like the best idea to knock on his door and ask him if he was okay.
What harm could that do?
Chapter Fifteen
I’m sorry for what I said. I was hungry
Justin
The knock on the door I could ignore. I’d been doing it my entire life when I got in this headspace where I didn’t want to see anyone or do anything outside of my apartment. So, this bedroom wasn’t exactly as big as my Waterline apartment with a view of the Hudson, but it was a suite, and it had this cool separate seating space and a second shower room, plus a tiny kitchen that came complete with microwave and a refrigerator. The shower was amazing, and I’d spent half an hour fussing in there, washing my hair, conditioning it, scrubbing every inch of me, and I’d only just taken the towel off my head. Bliss. I felt warm and cozy and more at peace than I had this morning.