She blinks, rearing her head back like I’ve slapped her. As if she isn’t acutely aware of how I turn into a disaster around her.

“With your...” I point wildly at her, my hand still clutching the tumbler glass. “Peach body spray. Yeah. I know it’s from Victoria’s Secret. I looked it up.”

Amy uncrosses her arms, a dimple peeking out of her cheek, and I forget to be embarrassed. I forget everything except how overwhelming her presence is.

“What else?”

“Pardon me?”

Kitchens are not supposed to be this hot when the stoves are cold, and the dinner rush is long over. So why is my skin on fire? I pop the last two buttons on my chef’s jacket. Amy’s eyes bounce from my face, down. I untie the bonnet, pulling it off my head and letting it fall to the table. I yank the elastic band out of my ponytail and scrunch my fingers into my hair. I bite my lip to stop the moan from escaping as my scalp screams in relief from the heavy weight of my updo.

“Well? What else?” she asks.

“What else what?”

“What else am I doing to distract you?”

Amy is long and lean. She towers over me as she flicks a curl out of her eyes with the cool twist of her head.

What am I doing? God, what the fuck am I doing?

“You know what you’re doing.”

When Amy laughs she always sounds a little caustic. She throws her head back, her jaw sharp like that laugh. “I really fucking don’t, Hollywood.”

I’ve always hated lobster, cooking them specifically. To throw a live animal in a pot, boil it alive, it knows it’s drowning in a pool of fire and it can’t do anything to save itself. That’s where I am right now, drowning in a pool of fire, flinging the blame at her to try to save myself. It’s time to face the music and let myself burn.

“I’m sorry.” I set my whiskey down. “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I lied.”

A look of shock passes over her features before she shutters them completely. “You don’t want to do the show anymore,” she says, like she was expecting this.

“No. Not at all. I’ll still do the show, if they want us.” I look down at my black Converse. “I told you that I would tell you things. When I’m feeling... I told you I would be honest. And I’m not being honest.”

“You can tell me anything, Sophie.” I’ve never heard Amy sound so pillow soft before. It’s her tenderness that gives me the courage to confront it.

I like women. I’m attracted to women. I’m attracted to you. Four words. Simple, true words. But I’ve never said them to a woman before. They’re a truth that hasn’t existed outside of myself and it doesn’t matter how true they are, they’re terrifying.

The words can’t get past my throat, where my heart beats harder than ever. I close the distance between us with two short steps. Touch her the same close way she touched me the last time we were facing off in the kitchen, my hands on her forearms, my breasts brushing hers.