Freya wanted to keep her gaze forward, but the pull was too strong. She glanced back at Kyle just as he caught up with her, then quickly looked ahead, hugging the books to her chest. Stupid. She prided herself in her lack of tells, but this might be the one to give her away. Her traitorous eyes, always seeking him out, even when she knew exactly where he was. And with all the evidence building up in front of her, she couldn’t really pretend that she didn’t know why she had to turn. Nor could she run away, like she did with so many other truths that were too difficult to face. Hard to run away from the very thing she’d been running toward for months now.
Friends. She barely restrained an eye roll. Whose bright idea was that? Hers, of course, the latest in a series so bright they were blinding. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, and so far she wasn’t wrong, exactly. Their training sessions were better than ever, and the success of this outing gave her confidence that more might follow in the future, but all of it felt so fragile. Like one wrong move would send them backwards into familiar but unwanted territory, or forwards into something new and… unwise.
But being friends with Kyle meant seeing him differently than she had before. It meant seeing more. Disheveled black hair sticking to a sweaty brow. A slight pull of his lips, approaching a smile but never becoming one. And his hands, always gloved, always out of reach. Except at night.
Awareness kept sneaking up on her. She kept pushing it down, for all the good that did. Just now by the bookshelf was not the first time he’d caught her off guard simply by doing something innocuous and looking good doing it; those little inconveniences happened all the time. Now was just the first time she thought he might have noticed.
That step back was a little too deliberate. Possibly even considerate, but if nothing else, it sent her the signal that she latched onto now. It would be best for both of them to maintain the balance they’d worked so hard to find together. No tipping of the scales, no going too far. Just friends. Balance.
Grateful for the conversation about the books, Freya told him about them without missing a beat as they made their way back toward the front. She felt like she was babbling — first two books in a series, each one from the perspective of a different detective in the Dublin Murder Squad, compulsively readable bordering on un-put-downable (at least according to the internet) — but describing what little she knew about the books gave her something else to focus on. They were harmless distractions she could afford, as opposed to the ones she could not.
Missing from the spiel, though, was her reasoning for picking them. These books contained nothing she could possibly relate to, just like all the other ones she’d chosen over the last seven years. It was the best and only gift she could give herself on her birthday. No reminders.
Freya paused at the front of the store, breaking into a small smile as she finally got around to his real question. “Oh, this one?” She hadn’t forgotten the first book, but she did make sure to slide it deftly out of her bag and between her body and the other books so he couldn’t see it. All that internal debate, yet she was still planning on going through with this. Just another bright idea to add to the list. “It's not a secret. It’s just not for me.”
Biting back a grin, she turned on her heel and started walking backwards towards the counter. “Wait for me by the door? I won’t be long.” Another step, and she was facing the opposite direction again, wondering why she was making this harder for herself. The look on his face shouldn't have been worth it. But it was. It really, really was.