Page 42 of Small Sacrifices

Someone who currently looks quite distressed at the thought of not speaking to him. "Reid…" His hand is back at the bridge of his nose, pinching for just a second. When he lowers it again, Reid can see a little red crescent troublingly close to his tear duct. "You don't need to do that. If he bothers you again, just tell him you're straight. That should do it."

Straight.There it is again. He remembers Marisol tilting her head and asking,"Are you queer?"It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Could he just tell someone that he's straight? Likely not with a straight face. He's not very good at stating things as fact when he isn't sure about them.

If this is about Everett, and if Everett believes that Reid's supposed straightness will resolve the situation, it makes even less sense. Why should it matter if he's queer? Governor Mackenzie has been outspoken about queer rights and anti-discrimination.

"Hello?" Everett rips him out of his thoughts by waving a hand in front of his face. Reid recoils. How rude. Is Everett's need for attention that immediate?

Mr. Swayne slaps his hand down. "You're behaving like a child. Stop it."

"But he—"

"He's thinking. Let the man think."

"What is there even to think about?" Everett's irritation sparks something in Reid's stomach, somewhere between defensiveness and fury. How dare he? This is about Reid's job! People would kill for this job— this kind of opportunity only comes once in a lifetime. If he can't understand the rest of it, why can't he just understandthat?

Mr. Swayne scoffs. "I think if you were missing two-thirds of the context, you'd be confused, too."

And that's it. Reid has had enough. It's very nice of Mr. Swayne to be defending him, but he shouldn't be here for this.

"I don't want to continue this conversation right now," he says. Even as he speaks the words, he can feel his face burn. But he sets his jaw and establishes eye contact with Everett to show him he means it. And when Everett opens his mouth to speak, he interrupts him. "I need my energy for other things today. If you really want to talk about this, we'll do it after the mediation. Alright?"

It takes a second before Everett snaps his mouth shut. But when he does, there's a determined glint in his eyes. He nods.

"Sure, we can talk after." He sounds weirdly happy with it. The little smile dancing around the corners of his mouth makes Reid's heart beat a bit harder.

"Can I have your number so I can text you?" Everett asks.

Reid wants to shout. Why can't this conversation just be over? But if that's what it takes... He rattles his number off and watches as Everett enters it into his contacts. He even remembers to warn Everett that he doesn't always answer very quickly. And then he excuses himself, puts in his earbuds, and stares out of the window for the rest of the car journey.

Soon enough, kale fields yield to beautifully maintained yards. It doesn't take long after that until they arrive at their hotel in Chesterton, where there's apparently an entire floor bought out just for them. It's just a stopover, but it gives Reid a few minutes to breathe. He lies down on the hard hotel room floor next to the bed, feels it press solidly against his back and takes deep breaths.

Then, he changes out of his sweaty t-shirt—thanks for the relaxing car ride, Everett—and brings his hair in order.

Chapter 15: Here to listen

The room next to the elevators has been set up as an improvised meeting room. When Reid reaches it, it's already milling with way more people than should be in there. To stay out of the chaos, Reid loiters just outside the door. One of the security officers stationed by the door nods in an amused salute.

Even though Mr. Wright told him to take dress shirts, the dress code for this trip seems to be quite casual on the whole. When Reid catches a glimpse of the governor from the doorframe, he is wearing a soft-looking wool sweater. Even the officers have ditched their Men in Black suits and are wearing sweaters and sport coats. It's strange to look at.

He wants to ask the officer if his profiles were useful. But he gets the feeling that wouldn't be very professional. He doesn't want anyone to think he's fishing for compliments.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a movement. It's Everett, leaving a room at the very end of the corridor. The sweater he's wearing is a dark emerald color, strangely vibrant in the dim light. Reid tells himself that's the reason he keeps looking until Everett is finished locking up—because apparently, they've found the last hotel in the country that still uses actual keys—and turns around. It's the color. Vibrancy attracts attention. That's all.

He looks away as Everett approaches. Everett, likewise, doesn't pay him any mind as he walks past and weaves into the room.

His arrival stirs up a commotion. "Finally!" the governor's disgruntled voice rings out. "We'll be leaving momentarily—don't bother sitting down."

Reid's mind paints a picture of Everett getting ready to sit down, his reportedly spectacular butt hovering in the air. It's not as amusing as Reid wishes it would be. Quite the opposite—it has the unfortunate side effect of making him think about Everett's backside. That was not something he was expecting to do today.

Until now, he had forgotten the awkward exchange with Marisol. He might have had the chance to confirm her claims, but he doesn't usually scrutinize people's posteriors. Why is he thinking about it now, and at work, no less? It's unprofessional.

People file out of the room. And before Reid has the time to decide where in the throng he should join, Mr. Wright grabs his arm and drags him along.

"Where have you been?" he hisses.

"Just outside the room." Should he have gone in?

"I didn't see you on the plane, and I didn't see you in the car either. Where did you run off to?"

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