“You’re going to spreadsheet the kiss?”
“Document the boundary.”
Dani’s posture eased.
“I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”
“You didn’t.”
“You’re sure?”
“I said necessary.”
“You also kissed me back.”
“I am aware.”
“And grabbed me.”
“Good night, Dani.”
She smiled, but her uncertainty remained. Upstairs, I watched the video twice. The pause before the kiss was visible. So was the moment the performance ended. I saved it to a private folder. For documentation. My phone buzzed.
Dani: For the record, I remember the first kiss now.
Then:
Dani: End of our fake second date. Definitely.
I should not have smiled. I did.
Part Two
The Starting Line
Chapter Eight
Totally Professional
Dani
On Saturday, June seventh, I spent the day teaching people how to lift heavy objects without injuring themselves and trying not to think about Amy Price’s mouth. One of those tasks went better than the other. At eight in the morning, I corrected a client’s squat while remembering the way Amy had pulled me closer onstage. At nine thirty, I demonstrated a cable row while remembering the small sound she made when I touched the back of her neck. At eleven, I answered three questions about protein intake while mentally counting nineteen seconds.
Tessa should not have provided the number. Nineteen seconds was data. Data belonged to Amy. Amy would analyze it. Amy would create categories. Initial contact. Publicly necessary duration. Unauthorized extension. Mutual loss of judgment. That final category had no measurable endpoint.
“Dani.”
Carol stood in front of me holding two dumbbells. She had completed fourteen after I told her ten.
“You were smiling at the wall,” she said.
“I like the wall.”
“You’re sleeping with someone.”
“I am not.”
“Not yet.”
