The question is not cold.
That might have been easier.
It is careful. Almost wary.
As if she wants the answer and is braced for it to hurt.
I look at her, and the answer is obvious and impossible at the same time.
“Because I’ve fallen for you.”
There.
The words are out.
Pippa stares at me.
Her mouth parts a little more.
Then she frowns.
“Fallen for?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“As in…?”
“As in I’m standing here making a complete fool of myself because I don’t want to walk out of this station and pretend the last two weeks didn’t happen.”
She stares at me.
The silence stretches.
Then, because she is Pippa, and because too much honesty apparently requires immediate structural support, she says, “Are you sure this isn’t just some sort of firefighter thing?”
I blink.
“A firefighter thing?”
“People have them.”
“Do they?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Well. I’m sure they do, but no.”
“You’re certain?”
“I’m fairly sure my attraction to you is not based on access to a helmet.”
“Fairly sure?”
“Completely sure. The helmet is incidental.”
“Good to know.”
“And for the record, the whole fantasy thing usually goes the other way.”
