AFTER THE LUNCH rush, DJ drove Ashna to the studio. Trisha and he had stopped by because Trisha was excited for DJ to meet Shobi. No big surprise that Trisha loved her. Shobi was the cool, badass (albeit mostly absconding) aunt.

“Your mother is magnificent,” DJ said as they turned into the studio lot. “Now I know where you get your beauty, and your ability to kick arse!”

“You’re too kind.” But I’m nothing like my mother.

When they got to the studio, DJ went off to a staff meeting and Ashna headed for the contestants’ lounge. For the first time in years she had to do that thing where she tightened her gut to brace for the impact of seeing someone.

There he was.

The punch landed dead center in her ribs, like a ball slamming her at full speed. She let it vibrate through her, the impact zinging electric sparks right down to her fingertips.

He sat in a wing chair, feet planted, bent over a newspaper, lips pursed, eyes narrowed. It was his frustrated-with-the-world face.

The passion playing across his features, across his whole body, was mesmerizing. Ashna took advantage of how absorbed he was in what he was reading to study him. He looked almost nothing like the boy she had been in love with. His thick sable-brown hair was pulled back into that man bun that had the internet aflutter. Her insides, this one time, agreed with the internet, even though it was still wholly incomprehensible to her that he had grown out his hair. The texture of his hair, cropped short in the back and long in the front, was something she still felt between her fingers in her dreams. Also new was his stubble, a shade darker than his hair, not quite full enough to be a beard but almost there, lined up to perfection.

He was chewing on those distinctively shaped lips. Whatever was in that paper, it had him in a rage. Sensing her study, he looked up. Would she ever get used to the physical impact of their eyes meeting? Fighting the warmth rising up her cheeks was a futile exercise, so she waited for it to pass. He responded with a shuttered look.

Shuttered was perfect.

They made their way silently to the staging area for their first elimination. There would be no cooking today, just the judges assigning scores that would be added to the votes from two weeks to determine the eliminated pair. Afterward, the producers had a surprise planned. Another sadistic idea to torture the contestants with, no doubt.

Ashna and Rico stepped up in front of the judges—a mix of two chefs, a food editor, and inexplicably, a director of romantic comedies.

“I’m going to put this right out there,” one of the chef judges started. “Your churro was nowhere near as delicious as your chemistry.”