Blushing Pink by Jill Winters

better and better.
    "Oh, fine," was all she said, hoping that Kenneth would take the hint and move on to topics unrelated to their graduate program.
    "Well, have you finished the latest segment of his book?" he continued. "Have you encountered any difficulties, or...?"
    She crinkled her face in confusion, but kept her tone neutral. "Uh, no... why?"
    "No reason. I was just making conversation."
    Well, it needs work, buddy, she thought. Then she felt a pang of guilt. Kenneth meant well—he was just unpracticed. She had to keep reminding herself that that had originally been part of his allure. He had always sat so studiously in their Cold War class, with thin-rimmed glasses, taking notes diligently and appearing brilliant. She hadn't gotten to know him then, though; that was just when he'd caught her eye. They had occasion to break the ice only after they were both assigned to Professor Kimble.
    In truth, she didn't know what Kimble had Kenneth working on, but knowing Kimble, it could be anything from preparing his lectures to taking some of his kitschy seventies suits to the dry cleaners. Who knew? And more to the point, who cared ? But it was becoming clearer and clearer that she and Kenneth had little else in common to discuss.
    "So is that book you're working on for him almost done, or...?"
    Okay, this was just getting annoying. "Actually Kenneth..." she said lightly as she chucked a dusty Pearl Jam tape back in the box. "Do you mind if we don't talk about school? I just don't want to think about it right now." When he fell silent, she added, "I mean, just because we're on winter break and everything, you know?"
    After a moment he said, "Certainly, I understand."
    "Thanks."
    "Well, I really should get going," he said. "I just called to say hello."
    "Oh... okay. Hello." And good-bye. Story of my life , she thought, referring to Pete. And then: Who are you kidding? Kenneth is no Pete.
    "Uh, yes, all right," Kenneth said, bordering on a stammer. "Well, good night."
    "Bye-bye," Reese said, folding her phone closed, and tossing it over her shoulder. It didn't crash, so it had to have hit the hamper or the carpet—good enough.
    As she carelessly hauled the junk back into its box, she heard the crunching and cracking of plastic and didn't much care. There was something nagging at her, besides her off-putting relationship with Kenneth, and besides—thanks to Kenneth's reminder—her ever-encroaching deadlines for Kimble. She knew it involved Brian, and she knew it was more than simply embarrassment over what had happened in the cafe that afternoon.
    It was more biting than guilt even. It was something that conjured memories of that very special New Year's Eve—how they had clicked so well, how Brian had made her stomach drop. Today he'd made it drop again, but she supposed she hadn't fully processed it because she'd been busy making a complete fool of herself.
    Now, though, she was thinking more clearly, and she had to admit that seeing Brian again had stirred a strange feeling in her... like maybe they had some unfinished business.
    Right. Ridiculous. So much for thinking clearly. She barely knew the guy. Reese sighed, and surveyed her cluttered closet, no longer anxious to clean it. Like everything else, the idea now seemed like a diversion from other things.
    But she knew she wasn't tired enough to sleep yet.
    Five minutes later she found herself in the sun-room, on Ally's treadmill. Reese left all the lights off so no one would be able to see her from outside as she struggled to maintain a fifteen-minute mile. The more labored her breathing became, the more disgusted she felt. I've got to lose some fucking weight.
    Fine, she'd just add that to her to-do list, which also included making a final decision about Kenneth. Should she hang on, or turn him loose once and for all? More to the point, if she turned him loose, would Mr. Stoic even care?
    After a few moments, Reese gave up on her dream of the fifteen-minute mile, and