Page 26 of The Sharpest Edges

When she sees Dean the following day, he’s looking away from her out the window, and there’s a split second between when he’s aware of her and when he schools his face, where she thinks he might grace her with a full smile. Not one of those guarded half grins that he censors himself with, but a smile that creases the corners of his eyes and betrays how happy he is to see her.

It almost breaks through the surface until he wrangles it back down to a more reasonable level. Dean is not the type to throw smiles out on a whim. He is careful and withdrawn, often choosing a shy duck of the head or a quick smirk instead, but today she almost got a real one and all she had to do was stand here.

His happiness to see her is instant and clear, even if he buffers back into a semi-neutral expression. It doesn’t last before a worried frown takes over. “Hey, is everything alright? You look upset.”

She’s upset because she’s about to tell him that they can’t keep doing whatever they’re doing. She has to get it over with before it drowns her or before she has second thoughts. Doubt already creeps in like she knew it would the moment she saw him.

“I um, I couldn’t bring any chocolate today,” she says with an awkward shrug, testing his reaction to her lack of offerings. “And you’re finished with your meds…I can’t give you more.”

“Oh. That’s fine. I’m feeling better anyway. You had me worried for a second. Came in looking like someone kicked a puppy across four lanes of traffic. Sure you’re okay?”

She spent last night and this morning running through all the reasons to put a stop to this, but now all she can think of are all the moments when he’d proven to her that he had no ulterior motive.

Every time he refused when she offered him something, not wanting to risk her job.

He’s never once asked for a favor. Never alluded to something he needed.

All the time they spend together enjoying each other’s company far outweighs anything that could be a transaction.

She takes up a seat by his bedside, leaning her elbows on her knees, keeping enough distance between them to avoid accidental touching. “What are we doing?”

It’s a blunt question because she doesn’t know how else to ask and pretending everything is fine wouldn’t be fair to him.

A look of confusion and then realization crosses his face. “I dunno. I was hoping we’d figure it out somehow.”

“I don’t have the best track record when it comes to relationships, not that we’re in one, or that we could be. I just mean that I don’t have a lot of trust in myself to make good choices.”

“Did I do something to make you think this is a bad choice?”

“No.” She leans back, shaking her head, frustrated at how complicated this all feels. “Quite the opposite actually, but someone got in my head about it and now I’m second-guessing myself. So…you know…if this is all some elaborate long gameto con me into bringing you crack so you can sell it to the other inmates, just let me know now? We can laugh about it and pretend none of this ever happened.”

“You think I’m grooming you to be my drug mule?” He deadpans with a slow blink.

She huffs. “Well, not when you say it like that. Now it sounds ridiculous.”

There’s a flicker of hurt in his eyes that slices through her chest and makes a home in her heart, but then it’s gone again. “Listen, this is weird. I ain’t gonna say it’s not. Being here makes everything weird. But all I know is that I like seeing you. Like spending time with you, maybe more than I wanna admit.”

There is a reason she trusted him enough to tell him what happened to her in the infirmary a few years ago. There is a reason she ran to him the other day when she was afraid, her first instinct being to seek out the person she felt safest with.

“But hey, I get it if you don’t trust me. You ain’t got much reason to. If you wanna stop—”

“I do trust you, that’s not it. It’s me I don’t trust.”

Deans fingers twitch against the bedsheets before he reaches out for her, and despite her doubts, she takes his hand, letting him curl his fingers around hers. “I don’t have the best track record with relationships either. Never actually been in one. Not that I’m expecting anything here, I’m not.”

She is surprised by his confession, if only because he’d make such an appealing partner. She never asked if he had someone waiting on the outside because it didn’t matter. They weren’t doing anything that required that sort of conversation, but now there is a shift from all their talk of ‘just friends’ that opens the door to something more.

“I’m not either,” she replies softly. “Expecting anything. But I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

She came here to put an end to their visits, and she’s doing the exact opposite. Ingrained insecurities remind her that she’s foolish to think he’d want her. They ignore every obvious signal he’s given and whisper instead that she’s hopeless, worthless, and everything John ever told her was true.

She waits for rejection, ready to crumble, but he only smiles. One of those rare big ones that she knew existed but hadn’t seen in the wild until now. Then he brings her hand up to brush his lips over her knuckles in a barely there kiss, so careful and chaste but more than enough to prompt her sharp inhale and make her heartbeat stutter.

“Ima need you to swallow a couple baggies of drugs for me first,” he says, staring at her a beat before laughing.

She pokes him in the arm, her own laughter joining his. “Not funny!”

“Come on, it’s a little funny.” His hold on her hand tightens a fraction, his voice serious all over again. “We’re good, right? You’re sure?”

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