A pause.
Amy: And?
Dani: Level Three was well written.
The typing indicator appeared and disappeared. Appeared again.
Amy: Do you agree?
Nochangeinrelationshipstatus.True. We were not dating. No promises had been made. No genuine feelings had been confessed. I should have answered immediately.
Dani: Yes.
The reply came quickly.
Amy: Good.
Then:
Amy: Tomorrow at 6.
I stared at the conversation. No joke. No good night. I put the phone down. The cereal had become soggy. I ate it anyway.
Amy arrived Monday wearing the bright blue running top. She had never worn it before. I forgot the amendment. I forgot the workout. I briefly forgot my name. She stopped at the training desk.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“New shirt.”
“Yes.”
“It’s blue.”
“That is generally how colors work.”
I checked the track before the fit of the shirt became visible on my face.
“It looks good.”
“Thank you.”
She adjusted the strap of her gym bag.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
I was not. The first official couples challenge began that evening, but Miguel had assigned me as Amy’s pacing partner for an easy morning run. Two minutes running, one minute walking, repeated ten times. I kept to the written pace and watched only for immediate safety. I did not touch her. Not at the elbow. Not at the shoulder. Not even when she stepped too close to the inside edge of the track and nearly collided with Carol. The avoidance became obvious by the fourth interval.
“Is something wrong?” Amy asked during the walk break.
“No.”
“You are in the neighboring lane.”
