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He motions to the plate next to him. “Dean said you didn’t eat.”
I brush my wet hair behind my ears as I egg beater my way to him.
“Showing off?”
“You do.”
He arches a brow.
“How many miles did you run?”
“Don’t do it to show off.”
“Then why?” I move closer. Until he’s five feet away. Three. One. My hands curl over the edge of the pool. This is the deep end. I have to tread water to stay afloat. I have to struggle to stay upright.
“I had to clear my head.”
“But why?”
“Why were you miserable all afternoon?”
It’s a fair question, but he’s still dodging mine.
I stare up at him. “Do you trust me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I want to explain something to you, but I can’t fill you in on all the details. And I need you to trust that I have good reasons for that.”
“Leigh…”
“Are you jealous of me and Dean?”
His brow furrows. His eyes turn down. He looks to the den. Finds only yellow light and clean furniture. “I don’t know.”
“Is that why you went on a run?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then why?”
“My head’s a mess.” He’s eyes find mine. “I can’t explain it better.”
“Dean isn’t Mr. Powers.”
“Leigh…”
I stare back into his eyes. “I can’t tell you who he is. And I know you won’t believe me until I do. But it’s not Dean. He’s my friend, but that’s it. That’s all I want.”
“He makes you laugh.”
“So do you.”
“Not the same way.”
“No. But I like the way you do it better.”
He motions to the plate—a stir fry that smells of ginger. “You should eat something.”
