Page 28 of Lethal in Pink

“I wasn’t eavesdropping. I was standing in a public space with functional hearing. There’s a difference.”

His mouth twitches. I pretend not to notice.

“I’m Jae by the way.”

I open up my notebook and begin studying the words on the paper.

“Good for you.”

“Your note-taking system is…” he starts.

“Effective,” I finish.

“Intense.”

“Do you always read strangers notes?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

“I was looking at the colors,” he says. “Not reading.”

“Right.” I mumble.

The silence stretches between us like a rubber band pulled to its breaking point. I flip a page in my notebook. He takes a sip of his black coffee. Doesn’t wince, which is impressive because I’ve heard that the black coffee at Beaned & Brew’d tastes like somebody filtered motor oil through a sock.

“You like pink?”

I sigh, my gaze moving from the paper to his face.

“What gave that away? Truly, I must know.” I say.

He gives me this look that says you have to be kidding me and then glances at my pen, my nails, the light pink cardigan wrapped around my shoulders, then my tote and back to my face.

“Subtle clues,” he says.

“Detective work of that caliber must be exhausting.”

“It is, actually. Ten out of ten, I wouldn't recommend.”

He’s got jokes.

My chest warms but I ignore it. It’s probably just my GERD acting up again.

Flipping to another page, I turn my focus back to studying rather than dignify his joke with a response.

Maybe he’ll catch the hint that the conversation was over like, yesterday.

He does not, in fact, catch the hint.

“So,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “what are you studying?”

My eye roll is automatic.

“Well, nothing because you keep interrupting me.” I huff.

He makes a small “o” shape with his mouth and throws his hand up. “My apologies—” he pauses. “ummm, ma’am.”

He did not just call me ma’am!