“According to the schedule.”
“According to your true love.”
“The schedule is not my true love.”
“Should I be jealous?”
“Rule four.”
She smiled.
“Right.”
Launch preparation required one story meeting and one photo session. Tessa approved Dani’s proposed origin—love at first liability—and we settled on a river walk, terrible coffee, and a conversation about my grandmother’s watch. The coffee was invented. The watch was not. At the photo session, thephotographer placed Dani’s arm around my waist, then seated me between her knees on a weight bench.
“This position was not discussed,” I whispered.
“Name three better poses.”
Her hands rested lightly at my hips. I could not name one.
“Look at Dani,” the photographer said.
I did. Dani’s smile softened. For one dangerous moment, neither of us remembered the camera.
“Beautiful,” the photographer said.
I rechecked the physical-affection section of the agreement. It suddenly seemed inadequate. Before the launch, Dani stopped me outside the locker rooms.
“If anything feels wrong tonight, say so.”
“You will stop?”
“Immediately.”
“No questions?”
“Questions later.”
The promise mattered more than it should have.
“Okay,” I said.
The launch transformed Iron & Ivy into a nightclub with unresolved feelings about burpees.
Twelve couples circulated beneath colored lights and sponsor banners. Evelyn and Vanessa looked polished enough to have rehearsed spontaneity. Dani offered her hand. I took it. Blake informed us that our assessment photograph had produced the highest prelaunch engagement and instructed us to be authentic.
“We have prepared,” I said.
“I was afraid of that.”
Evelyn approached before the interview. Vanessa asked how we met.
“At the gym,” I said.
“She almost injured me,” Dani said.
The details immediately disagreed. I stepped on Dani’s foot while she repaired the timeline, adding a week and an emotionally attached dumbbell. Evelyn looked unconvinced. Dani put an arm around my waist.
