"Tyler?" A hand shook my shoulder. The taste of sleep pulled me in deeper and the voice faded away. I swallowed, giving in to the sweet feeling of closing my eyes and resting. My head rested on a soft and warm pillow, yet my back was twisted in a particularly uncomfortable way.

Not a minute later, a more insistent and hurried whisper reached my ears. "Tyler! Wake up." I felt a hand on my face, peeling the thick mess of my hair away from my face. The strands tickled my nose, and I wiggled. The orangish light behind my eyelids made me frown, and I tried to turn away from the bright source. I wiggled some more, irritating the pillow below my head. The pillow seemed to give up after my much tossing around, and hissed, "Stop dancing, and wake up!"

A shot of panic went through my stomach as consciousness returned. Another retrospect made me realize that the pillow wasn't actually a pillow. More like a lap. A certain someone's lap.

The force with which I hauled myself up from the lap would have broken my neck or back, hadn't it been for the hand that grabbed me at the last moment. The momentum broke, and I didn't fall back or knock myself out. It took me a moment before it dawned upon me that I had fallen asleep. In the middle of the competition. The fact didn't sit well, and another wave of panic engulfed me. The sound of my heartbeat was loud in my ears, and I blinked to adjust to the bright lights. Bella sat in front of me, straightening her crumpled skirt.

My body was twisted towards her direction, and heat rose up my ears when I realized that I had been sleeping on her lap. "Sorry!"

I tried to help her with her skirt, but only made it awkward for both of us. Withdrawing my hands from her lap, I tucked a chunk of hair behind my ear.

"How long was I asleep?" I cleared my throat, and then in a panicked hurry asked, "Did the competition end?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "About fifteen minutes? There are another five before the round ends." She brought up her hand, and I frowned. Placing a finger on my chin, she turned my head towards the other direction.

My stomach did a free fall when I saw the TV, and I sagged against the couch in relief. Glimpses of the ongoing competition flitted through the screen. Good thing they hadn't thought of filming us in here. Had I been caught sleeping on TV...

'What the hell were you doing last night that you fell asleep on set? Lol!' Rebecca's voice in my head confirmed just what others would have assumed.

The thought was enough to make me shudder.

Yet another yawn assaulted me, and I covered my mouth just in time. This time I accepted the water Bella offered me. I took a sip, focusing on the live show. Brandon came on and I leaned forward, feeling guilty yet relieved to see him calm and collected. They focused on the dish he was decorating and I sputtered out the water in my mouth.

Cupcakes?!

He was taking out the cupcakes from the tray and adding them to the pile of already baked ones. Before I could see what else he did with them, the camera shifted the focus away from him, and to another participant.

But why did he bake cupcakes?

Bella must have sensed my stress, which was astonishing considering I never saw her as the type to be perceptive or caring enough to help out others. She patted my back, and I had to agree that my opinion about her was changing moment after another. "Don't worry, he didn't mess up."

"He really didn't," I whispered to myself. A surge of emotion, which I later realized was pride, bloomed in my stomach. From the glimpses I caught on TV screen, the cupcakes were mouth-watering. Which had to be good for us, right?

Bella nudged me. "Let's go."

"Where?"

She tilted her head towards the door, where the rest of the contestants were going out. "The round will be over soon. Standby position."

"Oh, okay." I flattened my hair with my hand, in case they had rebelled while I was sleeping. I even added a couple of face stretches, to make me seem more awake.

The fourteen of us took our position in the shadows of the filming crew. I could see Brandon's outline close to the kitchen counter, but nothing more. The clanks of utensils and the sweet scent of baking filled the hall. But today the atmosphere was different. The banter, the small arguments, and bursts that filled the space each round was replaced by occasional grunts and individual curses. It made me aware of how efficient our teamwork was. And how incomplete it felt to work alone.

"Time over!" Matt announced, snapping me out of my trance. I tiptoed to catch another glimpse of Brandon, but the heavy camera equipments blocked the view.

"Contestants, please join your team members." I went back on the balls of my feet. The line didn't move fast enough. One by one, all of us entered back into the kitchen. Delighted sounds and embarrassed laughs filled the hall. My feet gravitated towards Brandon, and I exhaled when my eyes fell upon him. He had a shy smile on his face. When our eyes met, one of his hands went up, and smoothed down imaginary flyaway hair on his head. His apron was a mess, splattered with orange juice and glaze. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hide the patches.

I raised my eyebrows, a small smile playing on my lips. He mirrored my motion in response, and then giving a shrug, broke out into a grin. He motioned from his head to the plate in front of him. I followed his line of sight.

"Oh." The sole syllable left my mouth. I circled around the counter, taking my place next to him, yet my eyes stayed glued to the extravagant delicacies in front of me.

Brandon had outdone himself.

He chuckled, flicking my forehead back with his index finger. I hissed, rubbing the spot. He added, "Wipe the drool off."

There wasn't any, but I humored him with attempting to wipe off the imaginary drool. The cupcakes glistened under the studio lights, a sun-kissed orangish glaze making them mouth-watering. Another batch had coffee-colored frosting on them, and yet another one with the wispy orange frost. It was all mixed and matched like a high-end tea party set, waiting to be chosen and devoured.

"I have a few you can taste." He bent down and took out a tray filled with extra cupcakes. I did a double take. He explained, "We had a whole bowl of batter."

I took the one he offered me. It wasn't as if we could present the dish without knowing the taste ourselves. How would I understand their critique then?

That's how I convinced myself, and bit into the sugary sweetness. The fluffy frost melted in my mouth. I had chosen the coffee flavored frost cupcake, and the frost was surprisingly sweet. Sweet enough to balance out the strong coffee flavor and make it seem mild in comparison. The cupcake itself was soft and light, breaking down easily as it hit my tongue. Orange blended with the coffee, the bitterness, the citrus hint and the sweetness, making an explosion of flavors in my mouth. It was a while before I could open my mouth, relishing in the sensation.

"I think we should smuggle them out."

Brandon muffled his laughter. "Were they that good?"

I nodded, smiling. No words were needed. I frowned when Brandon kept staring. With amusement, I asked, "What?"

"You've got a bit of frosting on your lips." He pointed to my lips.

I playfully punched him. "You should have told me sooner." With the cupcake still in my right hand, I swiped my left hand around the corner of my lips, but nothing came up. "There isn't anything!"

"The other side," he said, inclining his head towards my right. I switched the side. Brandon made an impatient noise. "A bit more up, to the left, to—can't you see it?"

"Of course I can't!" I snorted. "You do it." I pouted, waiting for him to do it.

I saw him hesitate. But then he noticed my amused and daring expression, urging him on. His demeanor changed. The glint in his eye spiked my heart rate, and it was now my turn to hesitate. He took a step forward, and I glanced around. No one was paying attention. But that didn't stop me from growing self-conscious. "Should I help you?" Brandon's voice was a husked whisper as he bent down to my eye level and placed a stray curl away from my face and behind my ear.

"No... now that I think about it—" I swallowed as Brandon scooted even more closer, "I'm okay with frost lipstick."

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. "I am not."

I expected his hand to come up and wipe it off. But instead, he leaned in closer, tilted his head towards left, his eyes focused on my lips. I craned my head away, not believing what he was doing, but unable to look away from his charismatic gaze. I swallowed when he was an inch away from me. Expecting him to laugh it off, or maybe finally wipe the frosting off by his hand. I was in for a surprise.

The proximity made my breath hitch, and I clutched the counter behind me. Everything went by too fast, but I was noticing it in grave detail. His mouth opened, and like a coward, I pursed my lips, too embarrassed to do anything else. That didn't deter him though. His breath fanned my face, and I snuggled in closer to myself, keeping away from him. I felt it before I realized it. A flick of wetness, by his tongue I assume, over my lips. I peeled open one eye, and I was right, as he licked away the frosting with his tongue. A shiver ran down my back, and I shut my eyes once again.

Without intending to, I opened my mouth with the unexpected gesture. I intended to tell him off, but he took advantage of my vulnerability and pecked my lips. My toes curled as the buttery mixture made the kiss a lot more soft and sensual, heightening the fell of his lips on mine. It lasted a mere two seconds. In fact, the whole ordeal was over within half a minute. The after-effects lasted a lot more instead.

Brandon took confident steps back. His hand brushed over his lips as if relishing in the previous sensation. My mouth hung open, when with a wink he licked his lips, slowly and definitely enticingly. I swallowed and looked around.

Damn female hormones!

I couldn't say we had not attracted attention. Whereas some team's dishes were being recorded for the broadcast, a few were casting us curious glances. Sarah particularly had a devilish grin on her face, and she winked at me when our eyes met. My ears burned, and with a flustered heart, I turned to Brandon.

He still had the cocky alpha male vibe coming off of him. I knew exactly how to deflate it. "You." I stabbed a finger on his chest. "Meet me after the competition."

"Why? Were we not going to otherwise?" I glared at him. He knew what I was talking about, yet he was jesting.

"Don't act coy, Mr. Brandon." I pursed my lips, narrowing my eyes at him.

He still acted innocent. "Wha-? What did I do?"

"Nothing," I said, doing a small snort at his petty act. He relaxed at my words, maybe thinking I had given up. As if.

I launched my proper attack. Like a predator assessing its prey, I measured Brandon up and down. In a casual tone, I started, "Bea's room is spacious, you know. With a beautiful view outside."

He titled his head, not understanding where I was going. "She asked me to move in with her."

With a pleased smile, I enjoyed Brandon's forlorn face. "What do you think? Should I say yes?"

He opened his mouth, and then closed it, repeating the same actions again. There was still a few minutes left before it was our dish's turn to be recorded. I waited for his answer, the conflict evident on his face.

I made the decision easier for him. "Alright, I'll move, since you don't seem to have any problem--"

"No!" he intervened. I bit the inside of my cheeks to hide my smile.

"Huh?" This time the ball was in my court. "I didn't hear you."

"Uh... " he stalled. I knew he didn't want to admit it, yet there was no way out of it. "Don't go."

I grinned, but then at once hid it, nodding my head as if I considered that option. He waited, and I tormented him by making him wait even more.

"Tyler," one of the camera operators called out, pulling us out of our bubble.

"Coming!" I called out. Brandon made a frustrating sound, and I giggled. Both of us grabbed the opposite ends of the plate and carefully took it to the display area. They took a 360-degree shot of the dish while we waited.

"So?" he asked as we made our way back to the counter.

"So, what?"

"Tyler--"

"Brandon--" I imitated his tone. Our voices were drowned out in the sea of more whispers and light conversations.

"Fine--"

"I was joking!" I burst out, unable to annoy him any longer. We kept the plate back on the counter. I added, "That was my revenge, so you can't be mad."

He gave me a side-glance. Though he appeared to be off, the slight upturn of his lips assured me that all was good.

"We are starting with the tasting!" The directory called out, and a hush fell over the teams. Unexpectedly, I was confident about our cupcakes. Which was a far cry from my initial thoughts, which centred on flunking this round. Brandon had been a good sport after all.

After receiving a good response from the judges, it was a matter of time before the eight worst dishes would be chosen. We both could only hope that there were eight dishes below us. With the current situation, I couldn't imagine going through another round of tiresome baking and tension filled drama.

Please don't let us be in the bottom eight! I prayed, crossing my fingers behind my back. They called the names out.

"Jackson, Sophia, Maya, Tyler." I straightened, not expecting to be called out this soon. Brandon shadowed my action, following close behind me. We took our positions, the four of us standing side to side. I didn't know what to expect. This could go either way.

Tony had a blank expression. Was that a glint in his eye? I couldn't tell if it was an amused glint or a sad one. A chant of pleads ran through my mind. I looked back and forth between the judges, but none gave away anything.

"Do you want to know the result?" They toyed with us.

The eight of us shared looks. "Yes!" we said in unison.

"Safe!" Tony said, clear and loud. As if a hundred pound weight had been lifted off my shoulder, I cried out in glee. Brandon hugged me from behind, the eight of us celebrating. Taking his hand, we took our place in the right corner.

Throughout the rest of the result time, I was grinning. Even when someone didn't make it to the safe side, I tried to tone it down, but my lips wouldn't move. But the shock came when Francis was placed in the bottom eight. Brandon and I shared a look.

We seemed to be thinking the same thing. It wasn't as if the bet was still on, and if Francis got eliminated he must marry Bella. But if he loses, she would have an upper hand in the matter though, which was more than worrying. He couldn't be out of the race now. The consequences could be devastating for him.

As the contestants in the bottom-eight lined up in front of us, the round ended. There was a somber mood throughout, dominating the short happiness of ours. Everyone divided into smaller groups, discussing the previous round.

Someone tapped on my shoulder, and I turned.

"Congratulations Tyler! We made it to the semi-finals," Sarah gushed, hugging me. I bit my lip, embarrassed at her loud words.

"It's nothing. Congrats to you--" A hard push at my shoulder smashed me right into Sarah, and I cried out. Brandon caught me from the other side, stabilizing me. When I looked up, all I saw was Kate, flipping her hair, going towards the washroom.

Heat rose to my ears, and anger filled my chest. I took a step toward her when Sarah caught hold of me. "Leave it. She is in the bottom eight."

"So, what's that got to do with me?" I hissed, yet again gaining a small crowd of onlookers.

"She's still pissed about you and Bella. Don't worry, karma will take care of it," she whispered, patting my arm.

I made a face, but let it go. Sarah rubbed the spot where my forehead had crashed into her forehead. I apologized for it, but she brushed it away.

Was I getting too impulsive?

"Tyler, let's go," Brandon whispered, steering me away from the crowd.

"Where?" I asked.

"Back to our room. You need rest." He was insistent, his grip on my arm firm.

"What about the competition? Don't we have to stay for it?" I paused, making Brandon stop in his track too.

"You don't." There was a new voice, and I turned to see Bella approaching me. "I talked to the staff; they allowed you to go."

"You did?" I said, noticing the exchange between Bella and Brandon. He gave her a grateful nod and then led me towards the stairs leading us out of the hall.

"Tyler?" Bella called out, and we halted once more. "You should have told me about that assistant producer. I made sure it won't happen again."

With that, she went back and joined Giulia in the rings. I tilted my head, not sure about what just had happened. "Did she just help me out?" I murmured to him, walking into the elevator now.

"Pigs will fly soon," he joked, and I giggled. He nudged me to press our floor number, and I clicked on thirteen. Both of his hands were full; one with me, and the other with a box shaped bag.

"What's in there?" I asked, breaking the elevator etiquette of remaining quiet. I blamed it on my medicine.

"Make a guess?" He wiggled his eyebrows, and I giggled again. A couple of foreigners gave us a curious look but averted their eyes when I scanned the space. I frowned, trying to make a guess. Then my eyes widened.

"You smuggled them?!" I screeched and then slapped my mouth shut with my hand. I swear that everyone took a step away from us. I could feel their tiny ears twitch, and their eyes straining to catch a glimpse of us or overhear an important detail.

Brandon's face was red from holding in his laughter. "Yes," he took a pause. The whole elevator appeared to be holding its breath. Before he could complete his sentence, the door dinged open, and everyone except us rushed out of the elevator. I knew this wasn't their stop because the floors above us were highlighted.

As if to mock them and their irrational fear, he called out before the door could close, "Yes, I smuggled the cupcakes! We gonna stuff ourselves." He completed in a singsong voice.

The door shut close, and we both burst out into laughter. After a few fits, I noticed the number of the floor.

"Should we have a tea party with Bea?"

When we reached back to our hotel room, stomach stuffed till our throat and belly button on the verge of bursting, we were tired. Brandon climbed in on the bed as soon as he had kicked off his shoes. As much as I wanted to follow suit, I had to remove my makeup, change my clothes, and comb my hair if I didn't want to look like an angry gorilla in the morning.

I opened my purse to take out the face wipes-- the laziest way to clean the face-- when I felt something cool and slimy touch my hand. With a disgusted feeling, I took out the leaking sanitizer bottle and cursed my luck.