Rosaline Palmer Takes the Cake (Winner Bakes All #1) - Alexis Hall Page 0,35
I mean, me as well. Unless you’re annoyed by that, in which case it was totally her idea. Which it was.”
He gazed up at her, his eyes big and brown and confused. “I’m good, thanks. Just having my lunch. Wondering how badly I ballsed up my filling.”
“I think we’re all ballsed and wondering.” Words kept coming out of Rosaline and she wished they wouldn’t. “We noticed you tended to keep to yourself. And we weren’t sure if that was because it was a personal choice, or because you hated us, or because you thought we hated you, or because you’re allergic to picnic benches, or . . . some other reason.”
“I don’t think it’s any of those.” His air of confusion was not abating. “I figured you lot had your own thing and didn’t want to push in.”
“It’s not really a thing. It’s more a . . . table.”
He glanced between her and the table in question, brow crinkling anxiously. “Trouble is, I’m not brilliant at lots of people all at once.”
“Is anyone?”
“Well. Yeah. My mate Terry’s always dragging me out to stuff and he’s always like, Hey Harry, what are you doing there in the corner not talking to anyone. This is Jim and Brenda what I’ve just met. I don’t know how he does it.”
“Okay, but this is Ricky, Anvita, and me, who you’ve already met.”
“Not all at once, though.”
“Oh come on.” She held out her hand, and after a moment of obvious reluctance, he took it, letting her guide him to his feet. His palm was warm and calloused, and realising she kind of appreciated that made her feel like Lady Chatterley. “It’ll be fine. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”
“Except that’s the problem, init? Because you get that voice in your head going Why aren’t you saying anything, why aren’t you saying anything, why aren’t you saying anything, why’d you say that? ”
She squinted at him. “I think you’re blowing this out of proportion.”
“Yeah. Probably.”
They drifted back to the group, Harry dragging his feet slightly like a prisoner going to the guillotine or a child at the dentist’s.
“’Lo,” said Rosaline, with a small flourish. “I have returned bearing Harry.”
He sat down next to Ricky. “All right, Gooner?”
There was a long silence.
“Sorry.” Anvita gave Harry an appalled look. “Is that a racist slur?”
Harry seemed genuinely shocked. “What? No. Gooner? Woolwich? Scumbag?”
“Arsenal fan,” explained Ricky. “What can I say? I like teams that win.”
“There’s more important things than winning, mate.” There was an unusual conviction in Harry’s voice.
“In a competitive sport?”
Harry shrugged. “It’s about loyalty. Being part of something.”
“I’m very attracted,” Anvita interrupted, “by this boring conversation about a sport I don’t play or watch or care about.”
“Sorry, love—er—mate—err, Anvita.” Harry reached for a pint that wasn’t there, and then hastily folded his hands on the table. “So, err, how’s your nan?”
“Pleased I’m on the show. Having real trouble not telling her friends about it.”
“Yeah, mine too. I’ve been like, ‘No, Gran. I’ve signed a thing. You can’t tell anyone. Not even Sheila from Bingo.’”
Ricky crumpled his napkin on top of his paper plate and balanced his half-empty water bottle on top of that to stop everything from blowing away. “My mum knows me too well. She’s very supportive, but she’s pretty sure I’m going out in week three.”
It was at this moment that Rosaline realised she was the only one who hadn’t contributed. “My parents aren’t huge fans of reality television. But Amelie’s thrilled. Of course, she’s eight and I’m her mother so she still gets excited to see me on a cctv camera in a shop.”
The dangerous, interested look had snuck back into Anvita’s eyes. “But your parents don’t care at all?”
The answer to that was complicated, and Rosaline wasn’t sure she could articulate it, let alone share it. “Oh, they care. Just not in a good way.”
“I know what you mean,” said Harry. “I haven’t even told my mates about this. They’d take the fucking piss. They will anyway, mind, but at least this way I’ll only get it once.”
“Pro tip”—Ricky nudged him—“tell them baking gets girls.”
“Not where I come from it don’t.”
“You’re trying the wrong crowd, mate. Come down the SU with me. They’ll think you’re sensitive.”
“I’ve changed my mind.” That was Anvita, a little sharply. “Please go back to talking about football.”
While the pattern of filming, and waiting, and filming, and waiting, was already becoming second nature, Rosaline wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to the judging.