Page 60 of Reckless
Laughter loosened the room again.
Kelly took another small sip of vodka and shifted slightly in her seat, and because I had spent too much time this week cataloguing her reactions, I saw she was still tense through the shoulder, and holding her drink too tightly.
I leaned down enough to say quietly, “Breathe.”
She paused.Then tension in her shoulders dropped one visible fraction.
Her gaze cut to mine.“Don’t say things like that to me where people can see you.”
“Why?”
“Because I get confused on where we stand and why.”
I held her gaze for one beat too long.
The server appeared before I could answer.My mother stood and everyone quieted as Maman said, “Come.”
We followed, but Kelly paused one step inside.
She seemed nervous.I stepped to her side, close enough that no one would question the move, and put my hand at the small of her back.The exact place she had chosen.
She inhaled.Once.Then she walked forward with me, and to anyone watching, it looked natural.
My mother had placed us together, of course.Halfway down the right side, not too near her, not too far.Kelly’s friends distributed in a pattern that looked accidental until anyone remembered who had arranged it.
I pulled out her chair and she sat.She looked up at me as she settled, the briefest flicker of surprise in her face before she buried it.Then, low enough for only me, she said, “Show-off.”
“How?”
“Gentleman behavior was probably taught by your mother over there.”
Dinner should have been easier once everyone sat.Instead the opposite happened.
At the table, all the little things became more obvious.Kelly and I passed dishes without hesitation, but that words flew and Kelly asked me quietly what something was in Persian when she didn’t recognize it and I answered as quietly.And my hand kept finding the back of her chair when someone on her other side leaned in too close and that every time she said something that made half the table laugh, my attention moved to her before anyone else.
I reminded myself her rules.No touching for no reason.No private jokes that implied a depth not yet built into the story.No overplaying.Let the family project.Let them fill in what they wanted to see.
The problem was that the more I tried to keep it measured, the more every small thing with Kelly seemed to intensify on its own.She asked for salt.I handed it to her and our fingers brushed.
Kelly noticed being noticed.Whenever I glanced at her.
Every time.
Her eyes would flick to mine.Her spine would sharpen.Color would creep under her skin and her mouth would go a little softer, as if the awareness kept hitting her body first and her pride only caught up after.
By the time tea was poured, I was beginning to understand that whatever this arrangement had been intended to contain, it was going to create as much trouble as it solved.
Charlie, naturally, accelerated that realization.
“So,” he said around his second sugar cube like a man with no interest in self-preservation, “who made the first move?”
My mother closed her eyes briefly and then gazed at us like she could uncover the truth.
Kelly set her tea glass down and looked directly at Charlie with the exact kind of patience teachers reserved for children testing whether a rule had consequences.
“I would ask why this matters to you,” she said, “but I’m afraid the answer would be worse than the question.”
Charlie grinned.“You know me so well already.”
