Page 111 of Bad Words

Instead I lifted the top of the steamer, and the white flower unfurled from inside, hot and moist. The buns hadn’t collapsed.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“Ravenous.” He popped the cork, and we sat.

As I looked across the table at him, everything that had happened since Juliette’s event seemed to hang between us like a blue haze, but I wondered if Parker was thinking twice about any of it. In all likelihood he was thinking about the interview, maybe even about the ways I’d insulted High and Dry.

“How long did this take you?” Parker said as he picked up one of the buns.

“A lady never reveals her secrets.”

“I thought that was magicians.”

“Yeah, it’s a close Venn diagram.”

He bit into the bun and made an indecent sound. Warmth twined between my ribs. “Good?” I asked.

He swallowed. “Okay. Wow. Remind me not to make fun of your menus ever again.”

I smiled. “You’re allowed.”

“Really? Why?”

“It feels like an intrinsic part of the dynamic now.”

“You could just call it an inside joke.”

“Right,” I said slowly. “In-side joke. Is that something that people with ‘friends’ do?”

“It is. Don’t worry, you’ll learn.”

He poured me a glass of wine. I watched his hand, his knuckles, the tendons drawing lines down to his wrist. The way a muscle in his forearm flexed when he set down the bottle.

“Thank you.” I tasted. “It’s good.”

“Thank God. I didn’t want you to have to break out the rack this early in the evening.”

“No, you’ve bought yourself some time.”

Our eyes met, and, smiling, I felt young and obvious, and I busied myself with spooning peanut sauce onto my plate. It occurred to me to say something about the book, or about Emily, to reestablish boundaries for my own sake.

“In regard to the interview,” I said.

“Right.”

“I have eight questions for you. You can look over them before we start, if you’d like.”

“You mean, if I’m scared.”

“If you were scared,” I said, “you wouldn’t be here.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

I gave him an amused look. “Yes, Parker. That’s what I’m known for: giving people too much credit.”

Parker smiled, but he didn’t answer.

I felt an unhappy tug. Was he scared of me? About a decade ago, I’d accepted that my baseline for interacting with other people was that they’d feel some level of intimidation or discomfort, but Parker? I didn’t want that with him. I wanted the endless giddy serve and hard-hit return of our messages. I wanted the way he’d looked at me in Jacob and Cassie’s apartment, or even in the bar after the convention, as though he saw me as an equal.