Another hour passes as we share clips back and forth, compiling a list of videos we could use. Luke leans back in his chair, swiping a hand down his face.
“How do editors do this?” he asks, gesturing toward his screen. “I’m sick of looking at their faces.”
I fall back into my chair too. “I need a break.”
He leans his head back, closing his eyes. I feel his hand on my forearm. He squeezes it lightly. “We should get some coffee,” he says.
I stare at his hand on my arm.
He’s been finding ways to touch me all afternoon. Luke is touchy—he always has been, and at first it felt like proof that we were okay, that last Friday was old news and we could put it behind us. But the more he does it—a hand on my shoulder, his knee brushing mine under the desk, holding on to my arm right now—the more it’s starting to feel different. Like he means it. Like it’s deliberate.
I should probably brush his hand off, give him some kind of signal that he needs to stop. But I can’t. Our relationship is tenuous right now. And more than that, I’m not sure I want him to stop.
He opens his eyes, looking toward me, a soft smile on his face, his thumb now rubbing a pattern on my arm. “Should we?” he says.
“Should we what?” I ask, the words coming out breathy.
“Get coffee.”
“Oh, yes, coffee,” I say, moving out of his grasp and standing up.
I definitely need some caffeine right now.
We walk out of the building and down the sidewalk toward Common Ground, side by side, Luke holding open every door we’ve gone through.
“This was the right call,” Luke says as we walk outside into the hot late-afternoon sun, our shoes clicking on the cement in tandem, the scent from the earlier rain lingering in the air.
“I don’t think I can listen to similar versions of the same questions and answers over and over again for another minute,” I tell him.
“If I hear River say ‘Kaelric is complicated’ one more time, I think I might lose it.”
“He does say that a lot,” I reply, laughing. “Or Bailey’s line about how much her character has grownover the last season.”
Luke groans. “‘Elora’s really come into her own,’” he says, pitching his voice up, not sounding anything like Bailey.
I laugh anyway. “Yes! She’s said that a hundred times.”
“Hold up,” he says, his hand on my lower back as he steers me around a puddle just in front of the coffee shop without breaking stride.
“Thanks,” I say, and try not to think too much about the fact that his hand stays there as he opens the door and we walk inside.
Later that night, I’m sitting on the green couch with Sam, catching up since we haven’t had much time together lately, when I get a text from Tessa.
Tessa: Not sure this is anything to worry about but thought you might want to see it.
She attaches a screenshot of a post from one of the cast members ofKingdom of Flame and Moonlight. It’s a picture of most of the stars from the show, gathered around, drinks in hand like they were at some kind of party.
I spot Bailey and River standing next to each other in the back of the group, but from my perspective it looks benign—like two costars hanging out.
The caption readsWell THAT was an interesting night.
I send it off to Luke, wondering if he’ll even see it. He said he was going straight to bed after I dropped him off at his place. We were both cross-eyed from watching so many interviews. The only one we skipped was the one with You Oughta Know since we wouldn’t use anything from hers on principle.
But my phone beeps almost immediately.
Luke:Wonder what that means?
Me:No idea. Tessa sent it to me.
