“Sophie?” Her indulgent smile starts to fade as she steps back and takes in the wide-legged slacks and black button-up I brought with me for dinner at Frank’s. A far cry from the athleisure leggings and sweater I usually pack for after work. “Do we have plans tonight?”

“I...” I turn away from her to slam my locker shut. “I have plans.”

This shouldn’t be such a big deal. It’s not a big deal. I’m meeting Paul for dinner to discuss a business opportunity...or something. And then I’ll go over to Amy’s.

“With who?”

I pop the top off my lip balm and slather on far too much, but even that has to end eventually and I’m forced to say, “Paul.”

Amy’s face shutters. All the excitement lighting up her brown eyes fades between one blink and the next.

“He called me this morning,” I say quickly, taking advantage of the vacuum of sound her silence has created. “And asked if we could meet tonight for a business meeting.”

Her eyebrows jump into her hairline. “This morning?”

I nod.

“What kind of business? About the show?”

“No. He said it was entertainment industry related, but no. Not the show.” I swallow past my tight throat. Amy is not the type of person who would ever want me to ask for permission, even though we’re terrible at boundaries. We’re not even dating. Whatever this is between us, I’m sure she’s chalking it up to improved interpersonal communication. But it’s taking everything in me not to ask for her blessing.

“I asked if you should come, you know?” I pull her sweater between fingers. “For show related stuff and he said...” I shake my head. “It’s not...” I wince. “It’s not...you know.”

“A date,” she says flatly.

“Right. Are you...” I wait for her to answer, at least fill in the blanks, but clearly I forgot who I’m speaking to. Amy isn’t going to let me get away with avoiding this. “Are you upset that I’m meeting my ex for a business related meeting?” I ask in one hard breath.

Her face stays blank, infuriatingly so, since I’m pretty sure mine is red from nerves and some sort of unidentified embarrassment. “Why would I be upset?” she asks.

I blink because I’m a little shocked but also not. I knew that Amy wouldn’t react well. No one would, certainly not me. But still. It hurts to hear her question this.

“Because you and I are...”

I stop myself when the staff room door opens and Carly shuffles in. Her eyes widen as she takes us in, standing close together but somehow also miles apart. “I’m just getting my stuff,” she squeaks.

Amy smiles, back to her role of the professional, if not aloof, boss. “Go ahead, Carly.”

The only sound is the squeal of her locker door opening and the jangle of her keys. She slams the door and leaves with a quick goodbye, not even bothering to put her jacket on.