“Calla—” Carmen starts.
I raise a hand to stop her in her tracks. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Then, when I’ve got her wide-eyed attention, do I cup my hands around my lips and silently mouth. “The. Cameras.”
Blinking, she nods rapidly and then gives my hand a quick pat. I know what she’s trying to convey – sisterhood and solidarity.
Picking my fork back up, I rummage around to find a piece of grilled chicken. “I was thinking of wearing a pair of heels and jeans for Friday. But I don’t know what top. Any ideas?”
My best friend rolls with the change of topic, nibbling atthe crust of her brown bread sandwich. “What about that black strappy one to match the shoes? Where is he taking you again?”
Feeling more and more like I’m performing beneath the bright lights, I force my lips to move and my throat to constrict, swallowing down my food. “Asado’s. You know the one with the fairy lights strung out in the garden?”
As soon as I get home that evening, I pull up Blake’s contact name in my phone. I debate just texting him, my thumb hovering over the icon before I jab my finger onto the screen and press the phone to my ear.
“Hey,” he answers on the fourth dial tone, sounding breathless. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I kick off my heels, sinking back into my sofa cushions. “Are you?”
“I’m not sleeping too good, but other than that I’m fine.”
“You should take some melatonin, or wine.” I lick my lips, imagining the sharp taste of grapes and berries staining my tongue from the half full bottle in my fridge. For a split second I think about standing to go get it, but my laziness wins, keeping me on the sofa. “Wine always works well for me.”
Blake’s resulting laugh, low and deep, rumbles through me, creating sparks of warmth in my chest that travels down to my stomach.
“It sounds tempting, but I don’t have any wine in, so I’ll have to settle for running.”
I swallow back the urge to invite him over to drink my wine, together, instead forming my tongue around a single word. “Running?”
“Mhm.”
I guess that explains his slightly breathless tone, althoughif it were me running, I rather think I’d be wheezing and unable to talk.
“Are you running right now?”
“Yep.”
I stretch out further on my sofa, ignoring the way my blouse rides up, allowing the cold bite of my skirt’s zipper to kiss my now bare lower back, in favour of soaking up the sound of Blake’s voice on the other end of the line.
My core clenches when I close my eyes, an image of him running, sweaty and shirtless, abs on full display, forming in the front of my mind.
“Where?”
“Around the track field near the school I work at. I, um—shit.”
“You alright?”
“Yeah, tripped over a tree root,” he huffs out a laugh. “I did hit the gym this morning with my brothers, but my mind is still racing so I don’t think it’s quite done the job.”
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
“Why your mind is racing?”
“Oh, that’s easy. Because of you, Calla.”
“Me?”
