Fanfare by Renee Ahdieh Page A

right now. “How did everything go on the flight? Did anyone recognize you?”
    He frowned knowingly at my pitiful attempt to deflect. After pausing an excruciating moment more, he decided to play along.
    “They let me on the plane before anyone else. I buried my face in a magazine while the other people boarded, so I don’t think anyone noticed. The flight attendant tried to say something to me once we were airborne, but I pretended to be asleep.”
    “I knew that whole acting thing would come in handy someday,” I teased.
    He chuckled as he reached over to change the song playing on my iPod. Two emotions dueled inside my head at his subtle display of comfort in my presence. It warmed my spirit at the same time that it absolutely terrified me.
    For the last two months, we had been in constant communication. My email inbox was filled with messages from [email protected] , and every other night my phone would ring at odd hours, prompting conversations filled with hushed laughter and insightful discussion on things as mundane as what we had for dinner, and issues pertaining to the economic crisis. Tom had quickly become a very close . . . friend. There was no other word for it. The tenor of our communications never blatantly crossed the line, nor did it ever clearly indicate that the relationship was moving in a romantic direction. Unfortunately, I was both troubled and comforted by these seemingly incontrovertible facts.
    I wanted to kick my own ass.
    The fear and hurt that had spent nearly a year lying hidden in the deepest reaches of my psyche caused me a great deal of mental anguish as they reared their ugly heads in the forefront of my mind with growing frequency. The residual pain I felt whenever my long-dead heart stirred at the thought of Tom stopped me from consciously cultivating anything meaningful when it came to him. And yet . . . he was so kind. So smart. So patient. So funny. So incredibly . . . down-to-earth. It was harder and harder for my fickle heart to listen to the constant warnings of my mind.
    “You’re doing it again, Cristina,” Tom muttered next to me. I glanced over at him. He carefully studied my visage with narrowed eyes and a set jaw. He tried hard to stop his mouth from uttering the words he instinctively wanted to say as he shifted his pressed lips slowly from side to side. The stern expression on his face made the definition of his features even more pronounced . . . it actually looked . . . incredibly sexy. ¡Coño!
    “Doing what?” I said breathlessly.
    “Driving me insane.”
    “Huh?” The tempo of my heart increased.
    “You’re thinking a lot of things and trying to hide it. I wish you wouldn’t,” he stated simply.
    I opened my mouth to respond with a lighthearted quip, but he stopped me before I could say anything.
    “Please, don’t make a joke. You belittle your feelings and insult my intelligence at the same time.” His voice was soft, direct. Shaming.
    My cheeks flushed. I clamped my teeth together in anger and embarrassment.
    He sighed and took off his hat to run his fingers rapidly through the shaggy mop of hair on his head. “I’m sorry. That was stupid. I’ve really been looking forward to seeing you . . . I shouldn’t give you a hard time,” he said apologetically.
    “It’s okay,” I whispered.
    “It’s not, but I hope we’ll deal with it properly one day.”
    I stared straight ahead and let the music fill the void of silence in the car for a while. I hated that he understood me so well as to see through the shell I showcased to the world. I wasn’t going to get away with merely being witty and lighthearted in his presence much longer.
    “You’re really brave to come and meet my friends,” I stated good-naturedly with a kind grin of forgiveness in his direction.
    He returned the smile. “I feel like I know them well already because you won’t shut up about them.” His eyes flashed with thankful mirth.
    “I can’t help it. I wouldn’t