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Now that I think about it, how can I be so sure this is really Maven Wood and not someone fucking with me? If I’m going to show you mine, you’re going to have to show me yours.
I lift my phone and mimic their poses, my tongue out and my face cast in the shadow of artificial subway lighting. I ignore the look from the woman sitting next to me and fire it off to him.
My phone buzzes again seconds later.
Unknown number:
You’re wearing clothes, which is better than a lot of the other people that have come for an interview. We’re off to a good start.
Me
I’m not sure a guy has ever said that to me before.
Do I get a medal for showing up clothed?
Unknown number:
A medal. And a gold star.
Me
I love positive reinforcement.
I save his number and stand up, holding the handrails as the train comes to a stop. I dodge someone with a backpack and hightail it up the escalator, grateful for fresh air when I’m back above ground.
“Maven!”
I turn around and see Dallas heading toward me with June perched on his shoulders. His white T-shirt stretches across his chest, and his dark athletic shorts hit the top of his knee. June tries to knock the bill of his hat with her small hands as he jogs across the street with a smile on his face.
“Hey,” I say, a little breathless. I figured I’d have a minute or two before I saw him, but he’s here. Two feet in front of me and meeting me at the subway station so I don’t have to walkalone, looking obscenely good. “I thought we were meeting at your place.”
“Figured we’d come here so we can show you which route we like to take. It’s good to see you.”
His grin pulls wider when he gives me a one-armed hug and tugs me close. He smells exactly like he did the other day when I ran into him at the stadium, like coffee and vanilla and the hint of wood mixed in the cotton of his shirt.
It feels like coming home after a long day as he presses me to his chest, and I melt into his embrace for the quickest of seconds before I pull away and look up at his daughter. She’s watching me, and her crooked pigtails blow in the breeze.
“Hi, June,” I say softly.
“June Bug, you remember Maven, right?” Dallas slides her from his shoulders and onto his hip. “We met her at the stadium the other day.”
“Pretty,” June says, and she grins. “I remember.”
“Good.” Dallas’s brown eyes flick down to the hem of my green dress, and he clears his throat. “Let’s go. Important things await.”
With long legs and an easy stride, Dallas is a giant who covers twice the distance I do as we head down the sidewalk. I try to keep up with him, but soon we’re separated by throngs of people, and a wall of pedestrians and tourists keeps us half a block apart.
When he turns around and can’t find me, there’s a flash of panic on his face until our eyes meet. His shoulders relax. He slows his pace and falls in step beside me when I catch up, letting me dictate our speed.
“Sorry,” I say. “That’s going to happen a lot. My legs might be strong, but they’re short.”
“Don’t apologize. I should’ve been more aware of my surroundings. That’s my fault.”
“Now we’re even after I ran into you in the tunnel.” Our arms brush as I sidestep a melting ice cream cone, and a drop of chocolate gets on my white sneakers. “I haven’t spent a lot of time on this side of town. It’s nice.”
“There’s a lot going on. Plenty of restaurants and parks, and June and I go to the playground around the corner. Do you have a car?” he asks.
“I do. I wasn’t sure what the parking situation was going to be like, so I decided to take the Metro.” We stop at an intersection, and I shield my eyes to look up at him. “June uses a car seat, right?”
