Chapter 10: Check Done

Tyson's POV

"You can leave, you know," Roxanne said without stopping. "Check is done."

She was still walking laps when I pulled out my phone and leaned against the wall.

"Keep walking." I scrolled through my phone.

"I am walking." Her voice came out sharp.

"Your left ankle just rolled." I said without looking up.

She stopped, looked down at her foot and looked back up at me. "It did not."

"Third step from the turn. Every time." I kept my phone in my pocket. "You're forgetting to engage when you come out of the pivot."

She made a sound that was not quite a word and turned back toward the wall, this time visibly thinking about the pivot before she made it.

I looked around the room while she worked. Small, two beds.

Books stacked on the floor beside the desk in a system I couldn't immediately decode. It was not alphabetical, not subject-based either. Something else.

A notebook on the desk that was closed. I didn't look at it.

The outfits I'd selected were still hanging on the back of the wardrobe door. She hadn't put them away or stuffed them somewhere out of sight, which I'd half expected.

Her suppressant bottle was on the nightstand.

I clocked it without meaning to, small orange prescription bottle, the kind with the white lid. I didn't look long enough to see how full it was. It wasn't my business.

"You're staring at my room," she said, not stopping her walk.

"I'm observing." I said.

"Well, don't do that." She said.

"Why shouldn't I?" I brought my eyes back to her. The ankle was holding. Her left side still wanted to roll on longer steps but she was catching it now before it went. "Your book system. What's the order?"

She glanced at the stack. "By how much I hate them."

I looked at her.

"Most hated on the bottom," she said. "Least on top. The ones I actually liked are on the shelf."

"That's a terrible system." I said.

"It works for me." She turned at the wall and came back. "How's the ankle?"

"Better." My voice came out flat.

"Better like acceptable, or better like you're not going to say anything critical for thirty seconds and then bring it back out?" She asked.

"Better like the left side is compensating instead of collapsing." I crossed my arms. "Which means the muscle memory isn't there yet but the awareness is. Keep doing what you're doing."

She stopped in front of me, slightly breathless, one curl loose against her cheek from the movement.

"So progress is acceptable?" she said, tilting her head. "High praise from the Blackwood standard of excellence."

"I didn't say excellent." I said . "I said acceptable."

"Wow." She pressed a hand to her chest. "I'm emotional."

"You should be." I said, flatly. "Two weeks ago you couldn't clear eight steps without grabbing furniture."

She went quiet in the way she did when she couldn't find the argument, bent down and unbuckled the left heel, then the right. Set them neatly beside the bed and stood back up in socks, arms crossing over her chest automatically.

Shorter without the heels. She always forgot how much, apparently. I never did.

"Was there anything else?" she asked. "Or are we done?"

I opened my mouth.

The party logistics. I'd come with a list, timing, entrance, positioning, what I needed from her before we walked in. I'd had it ready and then she'd opened the door already in the heels and I'd spent the last forty minutes watching her walk instead of saying any of it.

"The party..." I started.

My phone buzzed. I checked it, it was the team group chat, something from Eric about Saturday's practice slot moving. I looked back up.

She was watching me with her eyebrows slightly raised.

"The party," I said again. "Saturday. I'll pick you up at eleven-thirty. We go in together hold hands, being the perfect couple, the full thing from the second we walk through the door. Skylar will be there by midnight."

"How do you know?" She asked.

"Because she's always there by midnight." I pocketed my phone. "Wear the black dress. The bodycon one."

Her expression did something. "Of course you want the bodycon one."

"It reads the best from across a room." I held her stare. "Which is the point."

"Right." She said it flat. "The point."

"There's one more thing." I said.

"Of course there is." She rolled her eyes.

"Since Skylar is going to be there by midnight. The moment she walks in, I need everyone in that room to already be convinced." I held her gaze. "That means there's going to be a point in the night where we're going to have to kiss."

She stared at me. "Sorry, we're going to have to what?"

"Kiss." I repeated. "Where she can see it."

"I heard you the first time, I just..." She pressed her fingers to her forehead. "You said the plan was holding hands and pretending to...."

"Those only gets us halfway there. Skylar is sharp. She's going to look for the cracks." I watched her face carefully. "A kiss seals it. One moment, visible, convincing. That's all."

"That's all." She repeated it slowly. "You want me to kiss you in front of the entire school and you're describing it as that's all..."

"It's not a big deal." I said.

"It's a big deal to me." Her voice was sharp.

"Why?" I tilted my head. "You act like you've never..."

"Shut up." Her voice rose slightly. "Don't finish that sentence."

She turned away from me, arms still crossed, jaw tight.

"I can't believe you just decided this," she said to the wall. "Without asking me."

"I'm telling you now." I said.

"That's not the same thing as asking..."

"Roxanne." I kept my voice even. "It's one kiss. In public. For thirty seconds maximum. Skylar sees it, the room sees it, we move on."

She turned back around. Her eyes were sharp and her chin was up.

"You think that's going to be convincing," she said flatly. "Me kissing you."

"I think it'll be very convincing." I said it without hesitation. "You don't have to enjoy it. You just have to sell it."

"Right." Her jaw shifted. "I assume you have extensive experience in this area that you're very humble about."

"I mean." The corner of my mouth moved. "I'm not going to make it difficult for you."

She stared at me.

"You'll be fine," I said. "Better than fine."

"You are so..." She stopped, pressed her lips together, breathed through her nose. "You're actually annoying. You know that?"

"I've been told." I picked up my jacket from her chair. "Eleven-thirty Saturday, don't be late."

"You say that every single time..."

"Because every single time it's relevant." I said. "Keep practicing. Every day."

"I was going to anyway...."

"I know." I moved toward the door. "That's the first time I've known that about you and you didn't have to tell me."

I opened the door.

"Tyson." She called out.

I stopped, didn't turn around fully.

"Don't come to my dorm again," she said. "If you need to check something, I'll come to you. This is my space."

I looked at her over my shoulder. She was standing with her arms crossed and her chin up and her socks on, and she meant it completely.

"I'll think about it," I said.

I walked out.