Page 23 of How To Tackle A Crush
“I attended a press conference.”
I put my bag down and she gestures me over with her mug.
“Come here. I haven’t seen you since the plague hit.”
I walk over, pulling a chair slightly closer so she doesn’t have to raise her voice.
“How are you actually feeling?” I ask.
Chloe exhales slowly, like she’s deciding how honest to be.
“Better. Still fragile. I ate toast this morning and nothing terrible happened, which currently qualifies as a victory.”
“That does sound promising.”
“I’m basically rebuilding from scratch,” she says. “Tom brought soup last night. The proper kind. Homemade. And fresh bread.”
There is something softer in her voice when she says his name.
“That sounds nice,” I say.
“It was,” she admits. “I looked like death and he still sat on my sofa and watched terrible television with me. That’s commitment.”
“That is usually a good indicator.”
“I think I’m keeping him,” she says. Then she studies me. “Right. Enough about my brush with mortality. How was your assignment?”
I hesitate slightly before answering.
“Fine.”
She gives me a look.
“That is not a real answer.”
“It was structured,” I try instead. “Predictable. Questions. Answers.”
“You sound like you’re describing a staff meeting.”
“That is essentially what it was.”
She smiles at that.
“And?” she asks. “What was he like?”
I find myself thinking about that longer than I expect to.
“Calm,” I say eventually.
Chloe tilts her head.
“That’s your big takeaway?”
“He didn’t rush his answers.”
“That sounds small.”
“It isn’t,” I say. “Most people rush when they’re being watched.”
