Millers Kill Mysteries
Russ takes a little time off from the busy July 4th crowd to spend a little time with Clare.
293 words | rating: PG
Clare watched the fireworks from her spot on the faded, worn blanket spread out in the grass of the park. Overhead the bright shower of sparks exploded with a loud pop. She jumped, her body going rigid at the sound.
She glanced over her shoulder to find Russ standing a few feet away, still in uniform, but with his hands jammed in his pockets. She shrugged in answer then turned back up to watch another shower of colors descend over the “oohing” crowd.
“It took me years to not jump at every backfiring car or bottle rocket going off.”
After a moment, he lowered himself to the blanket next to her and sat quietly. She noticed he wasn’t watching the show. “Are you still on the clock?”
“Once a cop, always a cop.” His eyes finally slid over to hers, and she felt her pulse speed up. She quickly looked away, her face flushing under his scrutiny.
Another pop caught her off guard, and she gave Russ a sheepish grin. He just smiled, scooting closer until their legs were touching—not overtly intentional looking, but obvious to her nonetheless. She didn’t even notice the next blossom of sparks; her eyes fixed on Russ. He spread his hands away from his body and leaned back on them, mimicking Clare’s position. As his face turned up towards the show, she felt his fingers brushing against her hand. It took every ounce of will power not to look down at them, not to draw attention to the illicit touch. She swallowed hard and followed his gaze up to the night sky trying to be content in the little gesture of friendship he offered. It was all they had.