The Rosewood High bake-off was supposed to be fun.

That’s what you told yourself—right up until you found out you were paired against Emily Fields.

Emily stood across the classroom in her apron, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, already focused and calm like she was about to dive into a swimming meet instead of baking. When she looked up and caught your eye, she smiled—soft, competitive, determined.

“May the best baker win,” she said lightly.

“Oh, you’re on,” you replied, grinning.

The challenge was announced: a signature dessert, judged on taste, presentation, and creativity. You both immediately got to work, stealing glances at each other’s stations while pretending not to.

Emily was meticulous—measuring carefully, tasting thoughtfully, adjusting flavors like she trusted her instincts more than the recipe. You, on the other hand, worked fast, confident, adding your own twists without hesitation.

At one point, Emily leaned over, squinting at your counter. “Is that cinnamon and orange zest?”

“Maybe,” you said innocently. “Is that legal sabotage I hear?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

Flour dusted the air. Timers beeped. Someone dropped a tray. But somehow, through the chaos, you and Emily stayed locked in your own little world—quiet encouragement mixed with playful taunts.

When Emily’s mixer jammed, you didn’t hesitate to help. When your frosting started to separate, Emily slid over with a quick fix and a whispered, “Don’t tell anyone.”