"Um," he pretends to think, probably to tease me again.
I'd love to engage in the banter, have some fun, and unwind. However, I force myself to focus on him. "The confidentiality clause?"
"Of course," he says, lifting the corners of his mouth.
"Good." I pluck a piece of lint from my skinny jeans. "Have you been backstage at a fashion show before?"
He lowers his pen and sizes me up. "No. Have you?"
The car stops at a red light. I frantically consider how to answer.
Can I tell him?
Probably not. Even though he's committed to confidentiality, it's safer to remain vague.
"Once in a while," I say, gazing out the window. The night was clear and frosty. Now the sun shines, gracefully sparkling on the frost that coats the blades of grass beside the road.
"Mysterious," he murmurs.
His voice resonates warmly within me. "Maybe," I can't help but grin inwardly as the taxi resumes its journey. "Or maybe not."
"Mysterious and beautiful."
What did he just say? "Did you just say beautiful?" It's entirely possible that I'm staring at him. Equally possible that I feel flattered—which I absolutely shouldn't.
A hint of remorse flashes across his face, then he bursts into laughter. "Super strict. I said mysterious and super strict."
Oh? Ohhhh!
How foolish of me. Looking embarrassingly at the back of the taxi driver's head, I open my mouth but don't know what to say.
Well done, Sky. Father would be so proud.
Kjell clears his throat. In my peripheral vision, I see him flipping through the notepad. "And third?"
