“What?”
“Um. Bannister just sent—”
Presumably taken earlier in the summer, the picture was of Bunsen again, the retriever flopped beside a pile of high-tide kelp near a sign for San Francisco’s Crissy Field East Beach, silhouetted against the red arches of the Golden Gate Bridge on a rare sunny day with his tongue lolling, clearly halfway through a sprint by the water.
He’d also clearly been sprinting with Bannister.
Bannister—his head cropped just out of the frame where he lounged beside Bunsen on the dunes, his camera angled to capture the dog instead of his own face.
Bannister—shirtless, a dappling of sunburn across his arms, the taut lines of his stomach flushed with sweat, sand dusting his calves, the telltale muscles of a runner creasing his thighs, golden under the spangled marine light—
Bannister—
“Erin.” Martina’s voice. “Erin, what did he just send?”
“A… a photo.”
“Screenshot. Now.”
Click.
Martina’s phone buzzed audibly as the image dropped into their thread. Her read receipt flashed under the picture.Silence. Had she stopped breathing while she assessed it? Assessedhim? Erin certainly had. Her pulse was in her throat, her cheeks flaming, the worn denim of her jeans suddenly painful against her legs.
She wanted to bury her phone and never look at it again.
She wanted to stare at the screen until her eyes watered.
She wanted to…
But then:
“Erin. Either you’ve been catfished in the most insanely niche way, or you’re the luckiest woman in the world.”
9
Theswishof an activating lightsaber sounded from her desk.
Looping an elastic band around her hair, Erin hopped over to her phone on alternating feet while she pulled up her socks, smiling despite the itch of her sunburned arms and the early Monday hour. After a weekend spent messaging…flirting?… with Bannister in between stints of preparation for the Department of Energy’s visit, tracking a few trending STEMinist Online posts, finishing another Murderbot novella, and battling several sudoku grids, she’d switched out his generic text tone for the iconic combination of a thirty-five millimeter projector and a 1970s tube television from Star Wars.
Bannister
(New Photo Message)
Bannister
Before the running shoes come out.
She opened the picture, shouldering into both the sleeves of her utility jacket and the refrigerator to grab her breakfast Tupperware, then paused in the apartment’s entry with her bicycle helmet perched on her head, the latch swinging loose under her chin, distracted and delighted.
The photo was of Bunsen. The golden retriever stretched in indolent ease over a familiar gray quilt, ears flopped forward to cover his eyes. From nose to tail, he sprawled across the entire length of the bed and the pillow, too, scavenging the heat from another body that had either already hauled itself up off the mattress or been kicked out onto the floor.
Cassie played the same game whenever she visited Michigan.
Erin
If you lie down with dogs…
Swish.
