Page 27 of Keeping It Professional

MILES

Iwas early for Monday’s shift, stupidly early. So early it was technically still Sunday night, and I had half an hour to overthink.

I tried to distract myself with the maintenance check, hitting each item twice to kill extra time. But I’d done it so many times I could run the check sleeping, and I kept flashing back to those ten shellshocked seconds. That moment in the bar Sophie leaned up and kissed me. I couldn’t be certain, had I kissed her back? Or had I just stood there with my hand in her hair, thinking how soft it was, like cornsilk?

I’d braced myself after as I slunk back to Brian, knowing he’d chide me for crossing the streams. Work and play didn’t mix. Any rookie knew that. But Brian hadn’t seen us. He’d just seen my back. And I hadn’t told him, because…because. Because, why give Brian ammo to mock me for weeks, when the kiss was ten seconds, and then it was done? She might show up today and not remember at all. Or she’d act like she didn’t, and we’d move on.

Or what if… What if…?

I checked the wipers, then cleaned them. Scoured the windshield. There was no what if. Not for me and Sophie. It might be fun a while, but that wouldn’t last, and then we’d be stuck, partners and exes. Or, worse, ex-partners, both reassigned. Sophie was turning into far too good a partner to risk trashing that over one reckless kiss.

She’d held onto my arm.

Squeezed my bicep.

Pressed up against me, all soft and sweet.

Ten seconds,I reminded myself. I’d held her ten seconds. As partners, we might make it ten entire years. I had to be smart here. Think with my head. Sophie would get that, if I phrased it right.

About the other night, I was thinking…

I wanted to talk to you about this last month. We started out rough, but we make a good team. I think we should stick with that, not… Not…

Hey, Sophie. I don’t think?—

“Hey. Happy Monday.”

I dropped a pack of syringes. “Sophie! You’re here.”

“Yeah, uh, I…” Her ears turned pink. She tried to push her hair back, but it was up in a bun, and she only succeeded in messing it up. “This is awkward,” she said, and I winced becausenowit was. Her eyes were darting every which way, to my shoes, then the ambulance, anywhere but my face.

“I was thinking?—”

“I thought?—”

I cleared my throat. “You go first.”

Sophie’s whole face went red. She snatched up a spine board and held it like a shield, across her chest with the straps hanging down.

“Our kiss,” she said. “I was out celebrating. I got caught up in the mood, but I don’t want, uh… Idontwantthingstogetweirdsolet’sforgetitokay?”

It took me a moment to parse what she’d said, the words running together in her rush to get them out. But then it sank in, and my heart did a dive. My whole chest felt empty, my insides scooped out, which didn’t make sense, because this was a relief. Hadn’t I been planning the same speech myself, choosing my words to sound thoughtful, not mean?

“I thought the same thing,” I said, and it was true, but not true. What I thought was, not pursuing things was for the best. What I felt was hurt, disappointed. Rejected. And a little bit foolish for feeling that way.

“Then, good.” Sophie’s voice jumped up an octave,goodcoming out as a high, mousy squeak.

“Good,” I repeated.

She giggled. “Yeah, perfect.”

This was about to be one long, awkward day.

Our shift started busy, and that was a mercy, no time to sit and stew in our weirdness. We had a car crash, a nasty scene, a scared mom and her kid trapped in the wreckage. Fire department cut them out and we brought them in, and then it was off to a suspected stroke. We had old Mr. Dimitriou needing a bed transfer — he liked to call us when his legs got too sore — and some college kid who’d swallowed a fish.

“I think it’s alive in there. I feel its tail wiggling.” He gagged and I jumped back, but he didn’t horf. Sophie frowned at the fish tank.

“What kind of fish was it?”

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