I hated the word.
“What did you want me to mean?”
Her eyes lifted.
“That is not fair.”
“No.”
“You keep asking questions that force me to define something we agreed not to create.”
“Maybe the agreement is outdated.”
Amy stopped turning her watch. Outside the glass room, people crossed the lobby, music started in Studio A, and a treadmill beeped.
“What are you saying?” she asked.
I did not know. Or I knew too well. I stepped closer.
“Rule six said no feelings.”
“Yes.”
“We admitted attraction.”
“Attraction is not necessarily romantic feeling.”
“You were jealous.”
“So were you.”
“I understand.”
Amy touched the watch.
“I don’t want to make a decision while emotionally activated.”
“That is the most Amy sentence ever spoken.”
I smiled carefully. The joke worked this time. Some tension eased.
“We should not decide anything now,” she said.
“Okay.”
“We have the challenge, my training, your certification, and the coaching boundary.”
“I am aware.”
“And you have not told me everything about your first marathon.”
There it was. The hidden weight beneath every close moment.
“I know.”
Her gaze remained steady.
“I am not asking now.”
