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Called it.
"I hope we can try to work past our differences," Flynn offered a friendly smile and Derrick answered in kind, though the effort hurt his muscles.
Jade, meanwhile, seemed unable to determine whether she should stare down at her meal or follow along with the conversation—a condition only made evident by the way her gaze darted back and forth like she was watching a particularly sporting tennis match.
Flynn apparently didn't notice this, and asked her, "You guys get anything good from your witnesses?"
"Nah. Not yet. We might, though. With, you know, time. Effort." She stabbed her piece of sesame chicken and bit her bottom lip. Derrick's stomach twisted just watching her.
"She's being modest," he stepped in. "We haven't gotten to go over everything just yet."
"I'm sure," Flynn offered another of those too-casual smiles and nodded. "Well, I'll leave you guys to it."
Derrick nodded and then the other man turned on his heel and headed for the door. With every passing step, he watched as Jade's face turned from green to grey and finally to a deep, glowing red.
When the door had closed at last, she buried her face in her hands and Derrick asked, "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"I...Look, it's better if we don't talk about it."
Derrick wasn't about to let her off the hook so easy though. "You're a 28-year-old woman. You don't know how to talk to men?"
"I know how to talk to men. You've seen me talk to men."
"I thought I had, but I don't know what the hell that sorry display was."
"Me neither." She groaned. "Can't we just talk about the case?"
"I would, but this feels like that's suddenly way less interesting than it used to be." He grinned, though a part of him wasn't sure if he wanted to know what was going on or if he was just doing his best to ignore the growing ache in his stomach.
"Oh shut up." She curled her lip.
"Jade and Za-ac sitting in a tree—"
She tried to hush him and threw a napkin in his face, but he caught it before it hit him.
"K-i-s-s-i-n-g," He singsonged.
She rolled her eyes. "What's it going to take to get you to shut up about this?"
"Details." He spread his hands out in front of him. "Pretty simple. What makes the ball-busting detective I know and tolerate turn into a stumbling, fumbling—no offense—but total buffoon?"
"Little harsh." She glared.
He shrugged. "You gonna tell me or not?"
* * *
Jade wanted to dig herself a hole right there in the middle of the break room and bury herself in it. At least there she'd be free of this feeling like everyone could see her heart pounding out of her chest, her thoughts written out on her forehead.
"So, I know him. Sort of."
"I gathered as much." He nodded.
"We went to high school together."
"Did he get in your pants?" Derrick asked.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. "What? No. I wish."
