Page 30 of Shadow Dance

Smiling, I promise her we will and pocket my phone.

Warmed up, I peel my hoodie off and tie it around my waist. We pass people every once in a while, but other than that, it’s quiet.

Jaime and I are quiet, too. He keeps pace with me, although I know he could go much faster. I’m far from out of shape, but I still tend to baby my ankle, especially on uneven surfaces. Also, he goes running sometimes in the mornings. The only time you’d ever see me running is if someone was chasing me.

Eventually, we end up at Lake Anza and plop down on the ground, sweaty. It feels good to exercise outside in the sun and fresh air. A couple tosses a frisbee back and forth, their voices drifting over on the wind.

“How was your dinner?” Jaime asks, leaning back on his elbows.

I wish I’d thought to bring an extra water bottle. I’m parched. “The food was great.”

“Nice earrings, by the way.”

“Thanks.” There are a lot of things I could say about these earrings, but they’d all sound ungrateful so I keep my mouth shut. Instead, I lie back and stare up at the clouds. There are lots today, big, fat, puffy towers of fluff. The last time I spent time outside like this was probably during our trip to Grand Cayman. I spent a lot of time staring at the sky then, too.

“When’s your birthday?” I ask.

“June.”

“Oh, we missed it then.”

“I didn’t miss it,” he jokes.

“What did you do?”

He’s quiet for so long that I look over at him, shading my eyes against the glare. His eyes are closed, his face tilted toward the sun. “Went on a date.”

“Oh.” This shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. It’s like glimpsing behind the curtain or something. “Where’d you guys go?”

“Place in Claremont.”

“Cool.”

“Mhm.”

“You bring her back to your place?” I tease, wincing at my utter lack of chill. Why would I ask that, even as a joke? Especially when this conversation already feels so stilted?

“Kind of personal, don’t you think?” he says dryly.

He’s right, but being called out makes me feel defensive and petty. “Sorry. Seems like you know everything about me, so.”

“Not really,” he counters calmly.

“You know a lot more about me than I know about you.”

“Knowing me is not part of the job,” he says softly.

Somehow, his gentle tone makes it worse, and I sit up, stung. “You’re right. I’m sorry I asked. It was inappropriate.”

He doesn’t say a word, shredding grass into piles by his side. No matter how much I want to walk away, I won’t. We don’t have that kind of relationship. We barely have any kind of relationship. Some of the conversations we’ve had over the past month might make me feel likewe’ve gotten closer, but honestly, we haven’t. Most of our interactions are superficially pleasant.

Jaime’s phone rings, giving me an out. Climbing to my feet, I brush myself off and start back toward the car. I feel sick inside, like I crossed a line. He’s not my friend; he’s Callum’s employee. I forget sometimes because he’s classy and nice and there seems to be mutual respect between us, but that just means he’s professional.

By the time Jaime joins me, he’s finished with his call. “You wanted to go to the supermarket, right?” he asks, unlocking the doors.

“Yeah. I won’t be long,” I say.

“No problem,” he says, reversing. We meander out of the park and onto the main road, the silence between us so thick it’s maddening.

---