“Running?”
“I run the Mall on weekends,” Ben says, turning back to his computer and tapping a few keys. “If you’d like to take a rematch to the streets.”
Wait, is heinvitingme to run with him now? I’m getting whiplash from all the twists and turns of this conversation. I respond the only way I know how—with snark.
“Oh, you like being embarrassed? I’ll see if I can rustle up an audience this time.”
“I start at nine at the Capitol. Don’t oversleep, Goldilocks.”
I narrow my eyes at the nickname and his lips twitch. Now that I know he’s just trying to get a rise out of me, though, I won’t give him the satisfaction. “I’ll think about it.”
As I turn to leave, the AC kicks on and his blinds flutter at the window. I glance over, and something about the way his eyes track mine hot-wires my brain and I pause midstep. My intuition coaxes me—pay attention—and when he subtly straightens in his chair, Iknow.
Could it be?All this time, I’ve never stopped to think about what Ben’s looking out on. I cross to the window and yank open his blinds.
I’m looking directly into my own office.
My window is less than fifty yards from his, my blinds wide open as if to say,Come have a look!I can see everything: my jacket hanging on the back of the chair; myFEMINISTS ARE THE MAJORITYposter propped against the window; theSTOP THE DRILLINGCapstone Pipeline bumpersticker tacked up on my bulletin board. I can even make out the brand of my water bottle from here. How long has he been watching me?
“You arekiddingme.” It comes out in a strangled gasp.
“Took you long enough to figure it out.”
“How would I have figured it out? Your blinds are closed!” I slap my hand so hard against the glass, I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter.
“All the better to spy on you.”
I whirl around and he’s chuckling. “This is how you’ve known what to send me.” It’s all falling into place. I’m such anidiot. “I thought you’d bugged my office. I accused Stephen of being a mole!”
“You’ve been watching too much TV. The answer was always right under your nose.”
I point at him. “You’re acheater.”
He raises his hands in the air. “I didnotcheat. Can I help it that I’m more skilled in psychological warfare? We all must utilize our God-given talents.”
“You’re worse than a cheater. You’re a peeping Tom. A peepingBen!”
If possible, his smile grows wider. “I haven’t seen you changing your clothes, but do me a favor and give me a heads-up if you’re going to.”
I growl and smack his blinds open the rest of the way. They hit the wall with a satisfyingthwack. “You’re a pervertanda cheater. These are staying open from now on.”
“Thanks, I’ve been dying to let a little light in.”
I shoot him a death glare as I spin on my heel and yank open his door.
“Nine a.m. sharp, Goldilocks!” Ben calls out behind me. “I wait for no man! Or woman!”
I flip him the bird.
Chapter 7
I spend the night tossing and turning, trying to decide if Ben’s covert activities provide just cause for standing him up—but when Saturday morning dawns uncharacteristically warm and sunny, I decide the universe must be trying to tell me something. Once I don leggings, a tank, and my Apple watch to track my run, I’m out the door.
The route Ben mentioned, the National Mall loop, spans about four miles of prime DC real estate: the Capitol Building down to the Lincoln Memorial and back up the other side, encompassing such iconic landmarks as the Washington Monument, the World War II Memorial, and a handful of Smithsonian museums. It’s a popular route for locals and beautifully scenic, especially in April when the cherry blossoms bloom.
When I arrive at the Capitol just before nine, I spot Ben immediately, stretching by the large, currently bone-dry fountain out front. I’m able to observe him for a moment undetected and the thought that springs to mind is:different. I can’t pinpoint it exactly, but something about his easy, relaxed demeanor, the alternate environment, or maybe just the shedding of his suit feels intimidating in a new, more personal way.
He waves when he sees me approaching and I relax a little; I’dwondered if he might regret his impulsive invitation in the light of day. I’m still not sure what to think about him—are we friends or frenemies? I’m used to needing body armor in his presence, but last night, he’d been almost... nice? I wonder which Ben I’ll get today.
