Page 97 of Between the Lines

Her gaze flits up to mine beneath the slow bat of her lashes. It takes me a moment to register what she’s asking, but the subtle way she curls her bottom lip between her teeth makes it easy to read between the lines.

“Would you like to come over Friday evening? There’s a new documentary out that I’ve been meaning to watch.”

“I’d love that.”

Her body relaxes, as if she was nervous. With the uncertainty of what we’re doing, I don’t blame her. Truth be told, I don’t know what Claire and I are doing. All I know is, I don’t want it to end anytime soon.

Ever, niggles in my subconscious, but I won’t touch that with a ten foot pole.

“I love your house. It’s so cozy. It has everything I could ever want: the big kitchen, the fireplace, the window seat in the library…”

Her head tilts back as she gazes off, then says, “I’m sorry I can’t invite you over to my place. As if I even have one.”

“You’re exactly where you need to be. Be proud of the moves you’re making, but let yourself rest too. You don’t need to make everything happen overnight.”

Pink flushes up her cheeks. Being able to watch this happen intechnicolor tightens my chest. I’m about to tell her to come over tonight, to be greedy and selfish, but a knock at my door interrupts that. We sit stunned and wide-eyed for a moment before she slips from my grasp and tidies what’s left of our breakfast. It takes us half a minute to make it appear more like a work meeting and less like a breakfast date.

Date? Is that what this was?

“Come in,” I say, now standing behind my desk as I clear my throat. Aaron pokes his head into my office, cheerful as always.

“’Morning, boss man! I— Oh! Hey Claire. I didn’t know you two were…”

“Meeting about a student.”

“Rocco,” Claire says, subtly clearing her throat before she continues, “We could use your input, actually.”

Aaron agrees, taking a seat next to Claire in the chair I’d occupied moments ago. It takes us all of five minutes to go over the fabricated issue, the one that Claire presented with quick thinking. When it seems like the conversation has wrapped, she stands.

“I’d better get this to Penelope before the bell rings,” she says, indicating the beverage still left in the takeout container. “Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice, Mr. Harding.”

I smooth my tie to quell the ache in my chest at how quickly she was able to snap into formality when not minutes ago, I had her in my arms. At how quickly andeasilywe had to lie. Not even twenty-four hours in.

“It was my pleasure, Ms. Benson. Please keep me updated on how things go.”

With a nod, she exits.

“What can I help you with this morning, Mr. Russo?”

“Aaron is fine, my man. Unless you’d rather keep things professional.”

I swallow, remembering the grace that was extended by Aaron and Sam that time they invited me to the bar.

“Sorry. I’m still getting used to the personal and professional balance.”

“No worries.” Aaron grins. Maybe I’ll ask if he and Sam would like to go out again soon. “So, I just wanted to go over the agenda for the conference.”

I tilt my head so quickly that it forces my glasses down my nose. “What conference?” I ask, pressing my index finger to the bridge to reposition them.

“The coaching conference,” he says, as if this is something we’re both aware of. When I say nothing in response, he swallows, edging a manila folder across my desk. “The… you know, the one you’re attending… as our administrator?”

Without taking my curious gaze from Aaron, I slide the folder closer to me.

“Don didn’t tell you, did he?”

“No,” I say, opening the folder. “He certainly did not.”

Below is a welcome packet for a three day conference. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday until noon. The day I’d planned to have Claire over at my place for dinner and a documentary. My heart shouldn’t be sinking. This iswork. Myjob. The one that I took on so that I could hold onto the house for Cal.

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