Twisted Valentine

Bartered

✽ Mandy ✽

A week of walking to and from Clover & Steel should have made Jason feel familiar. It didn’t. We shared the same sidewalks and the same cold air, but he kept a careful distance, like the space between us was part of the deal. Most nights, I did the talking. I filled the quiet with school stories, diner complaints, and whatever Rosa had said that day. Jason listened. He asked about my classes, what we were baking, and how long I studied. His interest felt real, but it stayed on safe topics. When I tried to turn the focus onto him, I hit a wall.

“Where did you work before this?” I asked once.

“Here and there,” he replied.

“What does that mean?”

“It means I worked,” he said, and the conversation died.

After a few tries, I stopped asking. I told myself it was fine. Silence could be peaceful. Silence could also be a shield. Tonight, the shift dragged. The diner stayed quiet, and even Ben’s bad mood didn’t get enough fuel to burn. Rosa had cleaned the sugar jars out of boredom. Jason had wiped the same booth twice. Miss Suzy locked the front door at closing and told us to get out. Outside, the streetlights threw pale circles onto the sidewalk. My tips sat in my pocket, warm from my hand. Jason walked beside me, hands in his coat pockets, pace steady. For a while, we said nothing.

“Do you have family in the city?” Jason questioned. My stomach tightened. The question was simple, but it landed in the wrong place. I had spent years training myself to talk around that subject, to keep it tucked away where it could not embarrass me.

“No,” I said too quickly. Jason glanced at me. He didn’t look amused. He looked like he had heard the change in my voice.

“You don’t want to answer,” he said.

“I’m just tired,” I lied as I stared straight ahead. Jason didn’t push, but the silence after that felt sharper than usual. I hated that he noticed things. I hated that I wanted him to stop noticing, and also wanted him to keep noticing, all at the same time.

“How about I make you a deal. A trade,” he said, and I frowned as I glanced at him curiously.

“What?”

“If you tell me about your family,” he said. “I will answer one of your questions. Honestly,” I almost laughed because it sounded like something Rosa would dare someone to do. A trade on the sidewalk. A bargain between two near-strangers.

“You will actually answer?” I asked.

“One question,” he confirmed. I should have refused. My past was mine, and I didn’t owe anyone a clean summary of it. But my curiosity had been building for weeks. I knew the sound of his footsteps. I knew how he took his coffee. But I didn’t know who he was.

“Fine,” I said. Jason waited, still and patient. “I was an orphan,” I admitted, keeping my voice low. “I went into the foster system. I moved around. I don’t have people I can call family,” I didn’t add details. I kept it short. Jason didn’t react the way most people did. No wide eyes. No pity. No rushed comfort.

“Well, that certainly explains the way you adapt,” he stated, and I tightened my grip on my bag strap. I hated that he had come to that conclusion. “Ask your question, Mandy,” I took a deep breath and considered it. I had so many questions. But the question that burned the most was the one I had carried since that night I saw him going into Hawthorne House.

“Did you know I lived in the building before you started at the diner?” I asked. Jason’s jaw flexed once. Then he answered, simple and direct.

“Yes,”

“So, you did know,” I said more to myself than to him.

“Yes,” he repeated.

“And you never said anything,” I said, sharper than I meant.

“You didn’t ask,” he replied calmly. I let out a bitter breath.

“Did you move in because of me?” I asked.

“One question, Mandy,” he softly reminded me. I groaned, and he sighed. “No, I didn’t move in because of you. I needed a place to stay. A place that was affordable and quiet. Hawthorne House was the one and only option,” I searched his face for a lie and found none I could name. The answer didn’t make everything feel better, but it removed one ugly possibility. I opened my mouth to ask something else. Jason lifted a hand slightly, stopping me without touching me. “One question,” he reminded me again. I pressed my lips together.

“Right,” I muttered under my breath. We walked the last block in silence. My frustration simmered, but under it was a strange warmth I didn’t want to admit. I valued our weird routine. Even if it was mostly one-sided. Even if he kept his life locked up tight. He walked with me, and the city felt less bold when he was there. Hawthorne House rose ahead, old brick and flickering lobby light. Jason held the door open, and we stepped into the stale-carpet smell. On the stairs, I realized I still didn’t know which floor he lived on. I could ask. I also knew he could dodge it, and the thought annoyed me. At the second-floor landing, I stopped and looked up at him. “Do you want to come up for coffee?” his expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened slightly, like the invitation mattered. “It is just coffee,” I added. “Nothing fancy,” for a second, I thought he might say yes, but then he shook his head.

“No. Not tonight,” he answered, and honestly, disappointment hit me, quick and embarrassing.

“Ok,” I said as I tried to remain casual. Jason didn’t move closer. He kept his distance, but his voice dropped.

“Get some sleep, Mandy,”

“You too,” I replied. He went up the next flight without another word. I watched him disappear, then continued to my own floor alone. When I reached my door, I unlocked it and stepped inside. I told myself I was safe. I told myself I was overthinking everything. Behind my closed door, the hallway stayed silent, but I imagined his footsteps above me. I wondered what he was protecting, and from whom tonight. Still, I couldn’t stop replaying his easy yes to my question, and the way he refused coffee like it was a boundary he could not cross.

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