Free Burn by CD Reiss Page A

cabinet and the galley, which was cleaner than my kitchen had ever been.
    Darren threw himself into a seat, and I sat next to him. We had work to do. We’d detected a flaw in the sound for the show. It wasn’t much, but the music was meant to be loud, and the little click in one of the forty-some tracks would seriously ruin the experience. I freed my phone and headphones to start.
    I smelled Jonathan. Then I saw him standing over the table. I felt like a kid caught eating her lunch before the bell.
    “I had a feeling you’d show up,” Darren said.
    Jonathan slipped in across from us. “And you didn’t bring me flowers or chocolates or anything?”
    I slid toward the window, watching Darren as he said, “I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
    “Or Monica to get the wrong idea,” Jonathan looked at me with that irrepressible smile. It was nice that he was smiling and nice that Darren was remembering that part of him liked the guy, but I had a mixed bag of feelings.
    “This is the second time you’ve shown up where you weren’t supposed to be,” I said.
    “It’s my plane.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “I do. I am going to the opening and the viewing the night before because I love art and because I’m on the finance committee at the B.C. Modern. Now. I have work to do.” He put his laptop on the table and glanced at each of us expectantly. Despite the six other seats, that table was the only laptop-convenient surface. Bastard.
    Darren followed suit, his Mac out in a flash. He glanced between Jonathan and me as if one of us would suddenly go into heat.
    “I need to check the loops,” Darren said to me, all business. “There was a weird clicking. Then I’m mixing down again.” He handed me the clunky pro headphones he’d brought and looked at Jonathan. “She has a perfect ear.”
    “Indeed.”
    I put on headphones and watched Darren’s computer screen, listening for a flaw that might be part of the hardware or a tiny blip on track thirty-two of forty.
    The plane took off. The tiny thing felt shaky, unsure, too fast. My stomach fell between my feet, but I tried to keep a straight face, even when I gripped Darren’s forearm. We had to start the loop again when the laptop slid across the table. There was no one there to tell us to put our stuff away, and it didn’t seem to be a requirement anyway. Jonathan pretended to work, but I knew he was watching me.
    I glued my eyes to Darren’s screen when the plane evened out and I could swallow again. I’d heard the music for the B.C. Mod piece a hundred times, but in only a few minutes, I was listening with my whole brain for a click that may or may not have been there. I watched the wavy lines flow across the screen like heartbeats until my phone buzzed and lit up. A text. From the guy sitting across from me.
     
    —Is it hot in here? Or are you just gorgeous?—
     
    He was looking at me over his computer screen, lips curled in a smile.
     
—That’s so unpoetic. Even for you—
    —Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?—
—In Los Angeles? Yuck. Is there a shower in this tin can?—
     
    He leaned back, a smile creeping across his face. He ignored his computer in favor of the phone. The cold, electronic blue lit his face while the soft light from above warmed his brow and hair.
    “Mon?” I barely heard Darren through my headphones. “Did you hear the click?”
    “Uh, no. Can you run the loop again?”
     
    —I feel your hands on the phone—
     
    My heart skipped a beat. Or stopped. Or did the thing where I felt its presence in my chest.
     
—How, exactly?—
    —As if they were on my body—
—We have a no touching rule in effect—
    —Only until you commit yourself to me—
     
    I knew where this was going, and I wanted it, dangerous as it was. 
     
—What if I don’t commit myself?—
    —You will—
     
—Then what?—
    —Then I’m going to take those touchy little hands and tie them to your knees—
—No kissing