Page 9 of Between the Lines

I wanted to ask,bad, but I knew it wasn’t my business—not anymore, at least. I may not remember telling him not to talk to me—I didn’t recall speaking to him at all that night.

I rememberedavoidinghim, specifically, because I was upset, and I didn’t want him to know.

Didn’t wantanybodyto know.

“How did you end up on this show?” I asked instead, seeking to satisfy a much safer curiosity. “Charlotte said Daniel had a conflict, but I would’ve thought that meantyou?—”

“Would go for that role,” Shaw finished for me, nodding. “Alec wants to do something different though. Him and Daniel actually called me directly, and we worked a good solution to offer Charlotte. And here we are.”

“Didn’t youjustfinish the movie?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Supposed to be taking a month off, but…gotta have my boy’s back, you know?”

I nodded. “Of course. Well…I’m glad it worked out. I think the show is gonna be amazing.”

“No doubt.”

There was silence between us for a long moment.

A moment he spent unabashedly staring.

“What?” I asked, once I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “I’m just waiting.”

“For?”

“For you to take it back.”

My eyebrow lifted. “Take what back?”

“What you said about not talking to you.”

“You’re talking to me right now.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I took a chance thatmaybesince we were working together it was cool, but…I really didn’t know for sure.”

“Fine, I take it back,” I assured him. “Seriously—we’re friends.”

His eyebrows went up, like that was some kind of revelation.

Which…damn, what did I say to him?

Under the table, he reached for where my hands were clasped in my lap, covering both with his.

“I’m glad to know that,” he said, giving me a quick squeeze before he withdrew his touch.

I didn’t have a chance to respond to that because Alec walked up, chattering about the scene after the lunch break—one between him and Shaw.

Aperfectdistraction.

I didn’t miss the slight edge of annoyance on Shaw’s face as I excused myself from the conversation—I just ignored it, taking my chance to escape. I headed straight for one of the bathrooms, grateful for the privacy of it being a single-stall style, which meant I didn’t have to worry about my deep, cleansing sigh being overheard.

My attempt at one, at least.

I wassoconfused.

My relief over the familiarity of working with Shaw was absolutely at war with the emotional toll of being in real proximity to him.Notbeing in the same space as him for the last year had required intention; being “friends” had demanded a maturity I never knew I possessed.

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