Tessa placed four mugs in the sink.
“She did not sound respectful.”
“You’re not family.”
“I was on speakerphone. We bonded.”
I folded the disclosure plan.
“Next Sunday, we explain the competition to Lola.”
Dani accepted the condition. “And then dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Still coming?”
She made the question casual. Her fingers tapped once against her thigh.
“I said I would.”
“You’re allowed to change your mind.”
“I am aware.”
She looked relieved when I did not. I told myself the relief was logistical.
Monday’s assignment required a sponsored shopping date at Summit Sports, one training item for each partner, and a two-minute video explaining the choices. The two-hundred-dollar credit and scoring categories immediately justified a comparison sheet.
Dani’s voice message arrived before I finished the first column.
“Price. Do not make a spreadsheet. I can feel it happening.”
I defended responsible spending. She replied that I made budgeting sound hot, scheduled Wednesday at six, and called it a date.
It is an assignment, I wrote.
Wear the blue shirt.
I did.
Summit Sports occupied two floors near the downtown riverfront. The first floor held running shoes, apparel, and fitness equipment. The second contained outdoor gear, bikes, and enough technical accessories to prepare for a weather event. Dani waited beside the entrance beneath a giant photograph of a mountain runner. She wore dark jeans, a cropped black sweatshirt, and bright red trainers. Her hair was loose. I had not seen it loose outside the diner.
The sight created an inconvenient delay in my mental processing. Dani looked at my blue top beneath the light jacket. Her smile changed.
“You took a recommendation.”
“The shirt is practical.”
“Looks practical.”
“That tone is unnecessary.”
“You look beautiful.”
The sincerity arrived before I could defend against it. Dani had said the same thing during the fake relationship planning and the yoga practice. It should have become easier to hear. It had not.
“Thank you,” I said.
