boston {h.s.}

huit.

"YOU'RE READING THE Great Gatsby?" Harry asks when the quiet becomes unbearable. Halfway to his car, he walks perpetually just half a step behind me. Internally, I know he's enjoying the view; relishing in the way that my hips sway with each step. Externally, I can't bring myself to do a thing to stop it.

His angle also allows him the perfect view of the books that are hung loosely by my side, all but clutched in my hands. Stacked on top of another, my copy of the aforementioned novel is on top. From the tone of Harry's voice, I can tell that he had only noticed the title by accident. "Yes, I am," I'd been growing uncomfortable in the silence too, though I'd not done anything about it. "Any thoughts on it?" I return. I'd been hesitant to engage in conversation, uncertain what might slip unintentionally from my lips. Around him, I feel nervous and schoolgirlish and I've since resigned myself to the fact that I must maintain a particular decorum around him. Partially that is inclusive of my lips remaining sealed. Literature, though, feels to be a safe topic.

Harry doesn't answer immediately. I turn to look at him—only gratifying him with a gaze that stems from the corner of my eye—as an encouragement. "Well," he drags out the word, his brows furrowed low, "it's an American classic."

"True," I agree, "though, I have to use that word sparingly. Otherwise, my students will be turned off before they've already opened page one—"

"Students?"

"Oh, yes," I nod my head enthusiastically. My job, also, is one of the safe topics. Especially because my job resorts conversation back to Asher inevitably. "I'm a teacher. I, well, I teach English at one of the charter schools in the city. It's where I met Asher." Including the bit about Asher is unnecessary, though, it's a warning to us both. A reminder of how utterly unavailable we are.

"I didn't know you were a teacher."

Impartially I shrug. Only a few steps from his car, he fumbles with the keys to ensure that it is unlocked. The lights flicker. He strays from my side to walk over to the other end of the car so that he can get in the driver's seat. "Yeah, well, there's a lot you don't know about me," my voice is low and sultry and I have to fight my eyes from boggling out of my head. It had been unintentional, a slip of the tongue. Flirtatious to the nth degree though for the life of me I can't figure out what consumed my body for that moment to inspire such outward advances. "Oh, my God. I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry."

My embarrassment is rewarded by his smile. A smug smile. One that consumes his features because he knows finally we're even. The debt has been repaid in full. "I certainly don't mind one bit," he assures me, his voice low and drawling and I have to turn my body away from him to keep my mind clear. Intently, I focus on the fastening of my seatbelt, otherwise inclined to return back to a mutual silence. "Asher," he then says, my boyfriend's name coming off of Harry's lips inspiring a certain kind of confusion. In spite of my better judgment, I turn to look at him. "I'm not shocked. Obviously, you're attractive. I suppose I just wonder why him."

"You don't even know him." I respond immediately, perturbed by the obvious disdain in his voice. Annoyed as I am, I can't ignore the slight skip in my chest by his blatant compliment.

Levelheadedly, Harry only smiles at me. "That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, then?"

"No hockey players? No big salaries?"

"Money isn't everything."

"So I take it you enjoy, then, living with your brother?" It's a low jab. I recoil immediately, retreating even further from him in the seat. Harry immediately senses that he made the wrong step. I'm caustic and alight before I give him the chance to step in with an apology.