Page 44 of Burning Hearts
She handed me a cup. “For men who linger in doorways like it’s a hobby,” she said. “Caffeine will keep you from overthinking it.”
She handed Ellis the other cup. “And for men who pretend they don’t know they’re being stared at.”
Ellis went a tiny bit red. “I’m just working, Miss Pearl.”
“Mmm,” she said, which meant sure, if you say so. “Y’all keep telling yourselves that. The rest of us will enjoy the show.”
She glided away, leaving coffee, the smell of sugar, and a doorway that suddenly felt too small for how much was happening in it.
As she walked away, I heard her intercepting a teenager who was lifting a match for a cupcake. “Make a wish sugar,” she said, “not a fire.”
The match vanished into a clear bin labeledCONFISCATION STATION—Lighters / Sparklers / Regrets; an LED pick appeared; everyone laughed; the Commons went on being itself.
The afternoon settled into the kind of day I enjoyed: quiet fixes, happy people. I answered a drain-slope question, and Wyatt made three passes without performing. He stamped two things I didn’t get to look at because recusal means recusal. Wick & Wax did a demo. Beck strolled by, eyes everywhere at once like he’d been born to manage things.
He squeezed my shoulder and said, “Thank you for not letting my mother adopt a camera crew.”
A sentence only heard in a town like Riverfield.
By six, Beau’s poll was still undecided, and the pins had multiplied. I headed toward the hotel to swap day shoes for the pair that appeared more dignified.
The finalist floor had developed its own weather. Identical door beeps, lemon-clean air, a hush that surrounded everything. I stepped out of the elevator at the same time Ellis did.
Again.
We both stopped.
“Long day,” he said, neutral.
“Long town,” I said.
We walked in parallel, not together. At our doors we both did the key-fumble thing you do when you’re pretending that’s why you’re standing there.
“Good message,” he said, eyes on his handle. “On-air.”
“You practically wrote it,” I said.
“It sounded like you,” he replied. “That helps.”
We stood in it, whateveritwas, until the hall felt like it would start keeping minutes. Our doors beeped in sync.
Inside, the room felt slightly smaller than last night, which wasn’t entirely the room’s fault. I set the coffee on the desk and took off my boots. I told myself I wasn’t going to stand by the shared wall as if that would make it less shared.
But I failed.
Somewhere down the hall, a noise distracted me for a moment.
My phone buzzed. Not the group thread. A private line.
Ellis:Tomorrow?
My thumb replied before my brain got too coy.
Me:Yeah.
Three dots that came and then vanished. Dots again. Gone.
I let out a breath I hadn’t noticed I’d been rationing all day.
