Page 21 of Shadow Dance

What else is new? I plop a pat of butter onto the frying pan, letting it sizzle over the surface before adding my eggs. “I’d like to go shopping in the city today, if that’s okay. I need a few things.” The idea just popped into my head, but as soon as I thought it, I knew it was what I wanted. I can’t remember the last time I did something purely for fun out here, and I need new clothes.

“The city as in San Francisco?”

“The City is always San Francisco. Oakland’s The Town.”

“Noted.” A tiny smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “And you can’t find what you need over here?”

“Not really. One of my favorite storeson earthis in this cute little SFneighborhood,” I explain, thinking of my early days in the Bay Area. I’d drive all over the place, exploring and discovering, effervescent with the newness of it all. “I used to go all the time, but it’s been a while.”

“What time do you want to go?” he asks.

“As soon as I’m done eating,” I reply, sprinkling cheddar and spinach into my eggs.

Less than an hour later, we’re speeding down the road, music and sunlight filling the space between us. I think of my dad as we approach the Bay Bridge. I always do. When I was little, he and I would always hold our breath while crossing Boston’s bridges. At least, I’d try to. Usually, I ended up cheating and taking secret breaths. I’m pretty sure Dad cheated, too.

“What?” asks Jaime. He’s turned down the music.

He must have seen my goofy smile. My cheeks warm, and I look out the window as we speed across the bridge. “Memories.” I shake my head. “It’s silly.”

Yerba Buena appears ahead, and for a second, I feel like I can tell Jaime anything. I don’t know why. He’s not the most expressive man in the world—for the first few months of his detail he barely spoke to me at all. It took getting drunk around each other a few times for us to loosen up a little, and it’s taken us this long to actually have whole conversations. He seems cautious, because of Callum, I assume. It’s not caution for me, though. I just don’t trust too many people out here.

“Come on,” he says. He seems almost playful, and it does crazy things to my heart. “Spill.”

I take a deep breath. “When I was a kid, my dad and I would hold our breath whenever we crossed a bridge. It was a contest.”

“Who usually won?”

“I don’t know.” Nostalgia, longing, and regret temper the sweetness of the memory. I miss my dad. “I’m pretty sure we both cheated.”

Jaime smiles, glancing at me with soft eyes before refocusing on the road. After a moment, he turns the music back up. R&B. I was surprised when he first put it on. I don’t know what I thought a guy like him would be into. But I like it.

Jaime followsme from store to store, waiting while I try on clothes and then buy them. By the time we head back to the car, it’s late afternoon, and the air has a considerable bite.

Shivering, I practically leap inside the Audi once it’s unlocked, cranking the heat up.

“All that shopping, and you didn’t buy anything warm.” Jaime eyes my tank top and jeans as he settles in beside me. “You know it’s always cold over here.”

“Okay, grandpa,” I tease, buckling my seat belt.

He reaches into the back seat and tosses me a plush cream hoodie. “Is that how you see me?”

“Not really.” It’s a Knicks hoodie. I hold it up, reading the front. “It will always be New York or nowhere.” It smells like him, and my heart gives an awkward lurch. “My best friend is from the Bronx.”

“Bronx is chill, but not as good as Brooklyn,” he says, starting the car. “Put that on so you don’t freeze.”

I huff softly as I do, amused. Jaime’s in rare form today. Easygoing. We both are, I guess. Was I the one holding things up before with my attitude?

“If it’s New York or nowhere, then why are you out here?” I ask.

“Work.” Giving me a brief sideeye, he maneuvers out of the tight parking spot. “Why are you? Aren’t you from Boston?”

My heart sinks a little, and I sigh. “Callum. We were tired of doing the long-distance thing.”

We emerge onto the street. City lights have started coming on, illuminating the murky dusk. Speaking of Callum, I wonder if Jaime’s heard from him at all. My phone has been remarkably silent.

“Did he call you, by the way?” I blurt.

“He’s sent a couple of texts,” he replies. “Why?”

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