Dani and I stopped. The woman continued walking before either of us answered. The terrier looked back. I studied the bags while Dani studied me.
“We should have corrected her,” I said.
“Probably.”
“We didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Dani adjusted the handles of her bags.
“It felt rude.”
“That is not the reason.”
“No.”
I waited. She did not answer. I understood because I did not have one either. We walked toward the bus stop. Our shoulders brushed. Neither of us moved away.
The video scored first in personal insight and second in romantic presentation. Blake sent us the results at eleven that night. Beneath the score was a comment from the sponsor:
Their affection feels unusually genuine.
I read the comment several times, then opened the private folder containing the launch kiss. I did not play the video. The frozen first frame was enough: Dani turning toward me, my face already answering. The phone buzzed. A message from Dani.
You kept the shoes?
Yes.
And the shorts?
I waited before answering.
Yes.
Three dots appeared.
Wear them tomorrow?
I typed:
No.
Then:
Friday.
Her reply was immediate.
I’ll survive until then. Maybe.
I placed the phone down. The blue shorts lay folded on the chair beside my bed. A gift from my fake girlfriend. Purchased because she had seen me recognize myself. The situation had become unmanageable. For the first time, I did not open a spreadsheet.
Chapter Twelve
Inclined to Jealousy
