“Fine.” Her voice is breathless. “That step is?—”
“A recurring hazard?”
“I was going to say ‘trying to kill me,’ but sure.”
She’s still pressed against me. I’m still holding her arms. Neither of us is moving. The sunset paints everything gold and pink, and somewhere down the street, someone is grilling burgers and the smell of charcoal drifts toward us on the breeze.
“You should be more careful,” I say.
“I’m very careful.”
“You’ve tripped three times today.”
Her voice is softer now, and she hasn’t stepped back. “Maybe tripping builds character.”
“Your logic is deeply flawed.”
“Your face is deeply flawed.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It does too. You’re just too busy being smug about your non-tripping to appreciate my wit.”
I have this stupid grin that won’t go away. Jessica is pressed against me, insulting my face, and I’m smiling like an idiot.
“I should let you go,” I say.
“Probably.”
“You’re stable now.”
“A pillar of balance.”
Neither of us moves.
“Scott,” she says.
“Yeah?”
“You’re still holding my arms.”
“I know.”
“Is there a reason for that?”
Yes. Because you feel like something I didn’t know I was missing. Because your letters make me want to be braver. Because you’re writing about me to me and you called me astrange kindness and I want to tell you everything but I’m terrified of what happens when I do.
“Just making sure you’re stable,” I say.
“I’m stable.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’ve been walking my entire life. I know how to stand. Today was just...off.”
I finally let go of her arms.
She steps back, smoothing her dress, not quite meeting my eyes. “See you Wednesday, Scott.”
