Today's the day.
I've put it off for a lot of reasons—some that I won't even admit to myself—but that ends today.
I put on my smile, my mask, the one that hides just how important this is, how nervous it makes me, how the answer I get could make or break me, and walk up to her desk.
"Hello, Juliet."
Guh. What was that? I'm supposed to be carefree and vaguely idiotic, like I always am. Not . . . formal, restrained . . . serious.
But how to fix it? And why can't I think?
Oh right. Juliet.
She turns and smiles, her attention fully on me though she tries to hide it behind the file in her hand, the one she's supposed to be reading.
She thinks I don't see, that I'm too blind to notice it, but she couldn't be more wrong.
I notice everything. I was taught from a young age to do so, but really training can only do so much. It was the refinement of a talent I already had.
I'd love to tell her this so she wouldn't have to pretend anymore, but I can't.
Not yet.
"Hello, Shawn."
Her smile brightens when she sees me and the vague idiocy I wanted before is there.
It's just not as intentional and fake as it's supposed to be.
That's my Juliet. Saving the day even when she doesn't know what she's doing.
I can't keep looking at her or she'll notice I'm staring so I force my eyes away, randomly choosing a direction.
Holy- What is that?
Oh. Lassiter's tie.
My lip curls in instinctive revulsion. Where did he get that thing?
Seriously. That's got a to be a crime against humanity.
But do we try the designer or the wearer?
Both. They're definitely both at fault.
"Lassie, that tie is . . ."
I can't tell him the truth. Not directly. It's like a game between us. I give him the truth shaded in just enough of a lie that it's hard to tell which it is.
"Daring," I decide.
I nod.
Good enough. Hideous would be more appropriate, but too true. Daring is just right. It implies that he should be—and may be—shot for wearing it, but without actually saying that he won't survive to see the sunset if the fashion police visit the station.
Lassiter looks down—my finger twitches in my pocket, desperate to point to his chest and then flick upwards, but that's not part of our game, so I repress it and move on—and thinks about responding to that before he remembers it's me.
That's his part of the game.
He can't acknowledge how much I annoy him in anyway that might encourage me. Not directly.
We have a very complex relationship.
"Did you need something, Shawn?" Juliet asks.
I need you.
Now Juliet and I . . . our relationship is very simple.
We're friends. Good friends.
She trusts me, takes my word at face value, and whether we're working or just hanging out we have fun.
Just friends.
But today, that changes.
I amp my smile back up and direct it at her.
Like the sun and the moon, her own smile brightens in response.
We should go stargazing. I wonder if she likes stars?
"Shawn?"
Oops.
"Yes! I do need something, actually. I need to know what your plans are for Saturday."
She frowns, an adorable little wrinkle appearing between her perfectly sculpted eyebrows and it takes some pretty strong willpower to bring my eyes back down to hers.
"Why?"
"Well, there's this band playing at this club and the spirits thought you might enjoy hearing them play."
The frown wrinkle fades and I have to force my smile to not dim.
Then her eyes drop down and she closes the file and slides it into a pocket on the outside of her briefcase.
My smile is getting harder to maintain.
"So," I say, preparing a brilliant and witty line that will give her no choice but to agree.
"I'm sorry, Shawn," she says, but she's still not looking at me.
Why isn't she looking at me?
"I have plans already. Maybe another time."
Her eyes flick up and in that brief second I see the truth.
She's lying to me.
She doesn't have plans.
But why would she say she did if she didn't?
She's never outright lied to me, not seriously. She's jokingly said she had to wash her hair or walk her neighbor's dog, but she's never . . . actually . . . seriously . . . lied to me.
It's all I can do to not demand to know why. To not demand to know why she feels the need to lie to me, why she can't say yes, why she can't just play along, even if it's all an act.
I don't need it to be real right now.
Given time I know I could make it real.
But if she won't even let me try . . .
She walks away.
Lassie's smug smile lingers along with his face and the rest of his body, before he slaps my shoulder, says something condescending and insulting with just a touch of unearned gloating, then follows her.
I'm left standing there, staring after them.
I missed something. I had to have missed something.
Because what I saw made no sense.
But I don't miss things. I don't.
I was trained too well to miss things.
Well I've still got it all in my head. I just need to look again.
I'll find it.
And when I figure out what I missed, where I went wrong, I'll fix it.
I have to fix it.
Not fixing it is . . .
With a determined nod I head for the door and my bike.
I just need some peace and quiet and I can figure this out.
Today is still the day.
And it's not nearly over yet.
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