Page 20 of The Apparent Trap

“Exactly.”

He stands up, probably to pace along with me, but when he realizes how close that makes us again, he sits back down.

My confidence in this absurd plan is waning the longer he thinks about it. Could we possibly get everyone out of this mess without my dad getting hurt? What if he catches on and it upsets him? What if we make it worse?

And most terrifying, what if spending any time at all with Lee ensures I’m the one getting scrambled?

But before I can take myself further down that road, Lee is standing up again.

“Okay,” he says, holding out a hand. “I’m in.”

“You’re in?”

His eyes are on mine, bemused. “Are you trying to talk yourself out of your own plan now?”

“Maybe?”

“Are you always this indecisive?”

I balk. “No?”

“Alright,” he says, feigning seriousness. “Ezzie Halevi, are you in? To this crazy scheme you, yourself, concocted?”

He’s exasperating. “Why are you saying my name like that?”

“What’s Ezzie short for?” I hate the way he maintains eye contact, like he’s laser focused. This is what got me into trouble before. This. Believing a charismatic guy whose entire job is to charm people had any interest in me based on his well-practiced ability to simply keep eye contact.

“That’s what’s important right now?” I say, my breath coming a little shorter than I’d like.

“I’m just curious.”

“Well, be uncurious. Focus on the task at hand.”

He nods, his small grin doing nothing to make those parentheses dimples less enticing. Damn it, this is all such a bad idea.

But before I can think about it more, he’s taken my hand and started to shake it, like I’m agreeing to some doomed, self-destructing, ill-thought-through pact. His palm is rough and firm, and I pull my hand back before I can let those tactile memories sink in too deep.

“We’ll both give it some thought, and then let’s reconvene after my segment on Friday,” he says.

“We need full-on reconvening?” The thought makes my stomach flip.

“How else are we going to do this?”

“I don’t know,” I mumble. He’s thrown me so off. “Fine, we’ll plan then.”

He nods and opens the door, the light and air welcome since this room has become more claustrophobic than I could’ve imagined.

“And don’t tell Georgia,” he says. “Not just because Carmen doesn’t want you to—Georgia already hates me enough lately for some reason, and I can’t let it get worse.”

“I already promised Carmen,” I brush off, even though now I’m the curious one, with the realization that maybe Lee knows more about me than I assumed.

“Okay.” He knocks his hand against the doorframe. “See you Friday.”

Chapter 7

The next few days I’m a classic routinized avoider. I go to work in the mornings. I eat BLTs and hang with Georgia after the show. I make myself stay late in the office to avoid seeing my dad (or to avoid the thought that he might be too busy for me). Luckily, planning for the Sweden trip is taking a lot of time.

Of course, no one notices I’m avoiding anything, because my version of avoidance is still sociable on the surface. Most colleagues and acquaintances don’t think I’m an introvert because I talk a lot. This is the thing that gets missed about extroverted introverts—I present as a people person. But often, it’s because I’m usually speaking in order to get more information as a journalist or as a producer. I’m not sharing anything about myself.