blame a guy for trying.”
“I’m only saying, no need.” She shifted in her seat and had
to grab the beaded shawl that tried to slide off her lap.
“So this isn’t supposed to be any fun for me?”
“Are you having fun?”
She was surprised?
“I was until a minute ago,” he said.
“I’m sorry. This is my first just-for-show relationship.
It’s difficult to know where to draw the line.”
He nodded. “Me too.” Just for show. Why did that seem even
harsher than we’re not dating ?
Kim pulled onto Stemmons Freeway and started north. He edged
the Jeep up toward eighty miles an hour. Push it higher than that and it would
start to shimmy. He had to have that looked at before he moved.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “You were cool with us
pretending to be a romantic item last night. You’re cool about pretending
tonight. Either I’m easier to tolerate than most men, or I’m merely convenient.
Tough to say which is harder on my ego.”
She sighed. “You’re wonderful. Thoughtful. Great kisser. Drool-worthy.
You’re perfect.”
She didn’t sound sarcastic.
“That’s good, right?” he said cautiously.
“Sure. Until I find you in bed with another woman.”
What? “When did I get into bed with another woman? Is it
because I’m not sleeping with you? Is it why I’m not sleeping with you?”
“Yes, in fact,” she said. “It’s why we’re not even dating.”
“Lost me,” he said, his head starting to hurt.
“I know.”
Kim had entered the Canyon, an ever-forking high-speed maze
of concrete that brought a fistful of major highways together at downtown
Dallas and then peeled them off again. It wasn’t the best place for a
complicated conversation.
She’d called him drool-worthy. A great kisser. How did she
get from there to an apparently militant we’re-not-dating stance?
Once on the Tollway, Kim wound his speed back up to eighty.
He was still getting passed. He definitely had to get the Jeep looked at.
Concentrating on the road was simpler than trying to figure
this woman out. He’d been taken with her—her wit, her spirit, even her ankles.
Clearly, his fantasies were not being reciprocated. He should let it go. Show
her a good time tonight and leave her alone. A gentleman did not push,
especially not a gentleman with plans to leave town.
He endured another ten minutes of silence while they made
their way through the pricey Park Cities and farther north, past LBJ Freeway
and the Dallas Galleria, and farther north still. Then she surprised him by
saying, “Is it really safe?” She sounded far away and uncertain.
“The Jeep?”
“Wall Werx.”
“Absolutely. I’ve been climbing now for…” Kim paused to get
the right number and realized he wasn’t counting weeks or even months, but
rather years. Well, almost years. One year and change. Astounding. A record.
And as recently as this afternoon, he was still finding fun,
new things to try. Wow.
“Kim?”
“Sorry. I hadn’t realized it had been almost two years.
Surprised me, is all. And yes, it’s safe,” he said. “You don’t climb without at
least a little instruction. And in the Big Top—the big room you saw today—you don’t
climb without a rope and a trained partner at the other end of it.”
“But that boy fell,” she said. “As high as he was, he could
have been killed.”
“The kid had a better chance of being hit by a car than
getting killed climbing,” he said, choosing not to mention that most
climbing-related injuries were suffered by girlfriends watching from the ground
below. “He had a quality climbing harness that really fit him. He had a
secured, locking carabiner at his tie-in. All the anchors were bombproof. Only
the untrained idiot on belay posed any danger, and it was pretty minimal.
Cameron probably only fell about ten feet.”
The concrete walls to either side of the Tollway were rising
again as they burrowed ever northward. This was where Kim grew less sure. The
Galleria
“I’m only saying, no need.” She shifted in her seat and had
to grab the beaded shawl that tried to slide off her lap.
“So this isn’t supposed to be any fun for me?”
“Are you having fun?”
She was surprised?
“I was until a minute ago,” he said.
“I’m sorry. This is my first just-for-show relationship.
It’s difficult to know where to draw the line.”
He nodded. “Me too.” Just for show. Why did that seem even
harsher than we’re not dating ?
Kim pulled onto Stemmons Freeway and started north. He edged
the Jeep up toward eighty miles an hour. Push it higher than that and it would
start to shimmy. He had to have that looked at before he moved.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “You were cool with us
pretending to be a romantic item last night. You’re cool about pretending
tonight. Either I’m easier to tolerate than most men, or I’m merely convenient.
Tough to say which is harder on my ego.”
She sighed. “You’re wonderful. Thoughtful. Great kisser. Drool-worthy.
You’re perfect.”
She didn’t sound sarcastic.
“That’s good, right?” he said cautiously.
“Sure. Until I find you in bed with another woman.”
What? “When did I get into bed with another woman? Is it
because I’m not sleeping with you? Is it why I’m not sleeping with you?”
“Yes, in fact,” she said. “It’s why we’re not even dating.”
“Lost me,” he said, his head starting to hurt.
“I know.”
Kim had entered the Canyon, an ever-forking high-speed maze
of concrete that brought a fistful of major highways together at downtown
Dallas and then peeled them off again. It wasn’t the best place for a
complicated conversation.
She’d called him drool-worthy. A great kisser. How did she
get from there to an apparently militant we’re-not-dating stance?
Once on the Tollway, Kim wound his speed back up to eighty.
He was still getting passed. He definitely had to get the Jeep looked at.
Concentrating on the road was simpler than trying to figure
this woman out. He’d been taken with her—her wit, her spirit, even her ankles.
Clearly, his fantasies were not being reciprocated. He should let it go. Show
her a good time tonight and leave her alone. A gentleman did not push,
especially not a gentleman with plans to leave town.
He endured another ten minutes of silence while they made
their way through the pricey Park Cities and farther north, past LBJ Freeway
and the Dallas Galleria, and farther north still. Then she surprised him by
saying, “Is it really safe?” She sounded far away and uncertain.
“The Jeep?”
“Wall Werx.”
“Absolutely. I’ve been climbing now for…” Kim paused to get
the right number and realized he wasn’t counting weeks or even months, but
rather years. Well, almost years. One year and change. Astounding. A record.
And as recently as this afternoon, he was still finding fun,
new things to try. Wow.
“Kim?”
“Sorry. I hadn’t realized it had been almost two years.
Surprised me, is all. And yes, it’s safe,” he said. “You don’t climb without at
least a little instruction. And in the Big Top—the big room you saw today—you don’t
climb without a rope and a trained partner at the other end of it.”
“But that boy fell,” she said. “As high as he was, he could
have been killed.”
“The kid had a better chance of being hit by a car than
getting killed climbing,” he said, choosing not to mention that most
climbing-related injuries were suffered by girlfriends watching from the ground
below. “He had a quality climbing harness that really fit him. He had a
secured, locking carabiner at his tie-in. All the anchors were bombproof. Only
the untrained idiot on belay posed any danger, and it was pretty minimal.
Cameron probably only fell about ten feet.”
The concrete walls to either side of the Tollway were rising
again as they burrowed ever northward. This was where Kim grew less sure. The
Galleria
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