Page 76 of The Prime-Time Experiment

Riley straightened slightly in her chair, her fingers settling more firmly around her coffee cup. “What is it?”

“There’s an AFL charity function next weekend.” For a moment she assumed there would be additional information, context to why he was telling her. When none arrived immediately, she waited.

“I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.”

Across the table, Dee stopped moving entirely. Riley became aware of it without looking directly at her. She could practically feel Dee staring at her from the other side of the table, and when she eventually glanced up she found that impression had been entirely accurate.

Dee’s eyes were wide. Very wide.

Riley looked away before she could become distracted by whatever silent performance was about to follow and returned her attention to the question instead.

A formal charity function was not an insignificant variable. Large social events rarely were. They involved unfamiliar environments, unfamiliar people and a degree of unpredictability that generally made her avoid them whenever possible.

There would almost certainly be expectations she did not fully understand, conversations she would be required to navigate and an entire evening spent surrounded by individuals whose social fluency far exceeded her own.

Ordinarily, the answer would have been simple. Ordinarily, she would have declined before the analysis had even finished. The difficulty was that Declan asked, and she wanted to say yes.

Across the table, Dee had apparently abandoned any remaining commitment to subtlety. Riley could see her now, nodding enthusiastically enough to qualify as a health and safety concern, her expression making it abundantly clear what answer she believed should be given.

Riley ignored her, or attempted to.

“Riley?” Declan’s voice carried a faint thread of amusement.

“Yes?”

“You disappeared for a second.”

She considered denying it. “I was evaluating.”

A quiet laugh came through the phone.

“I figured.” The warmth in his voice settled somewhere unexpectedly soft inside her chest. “And before you start catastrophising,” he continued, amusement threading lightly through the words, “I wouldn’t leave your side all night. If you wanted to bring Dee as emotional support, she’s invited too.”

Riley’s gaze lifted automatically. Across the table, Dee apparently heard enough to recognise her own name. She was already pointing at herself with both hands, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Riley looked away again. The offer should not have altered her assessment as significantly as it did.

The event itself remained complicated, a lot of variables she couldn’t predict, that her whole life she’d actively avoided. But what caught her attention wasn’t the event.

It was that Declan seemed to have anticipated every concern before she’d voiced it. Across the table, Dee pressed her hands together beneath her chin and mouthed what was almost certainly say yes.

Riley resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Okay,” she said.

The silence that followed was brief but noticeable, then she could hear the lilt in his voice, and she knew he’d be smiling.

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

His exhale sounded suspiciously like relief. “I’m so glad,” he said softly. “I’d really like that.”

Something shifted again beneath her ribs at the uncomplicated sincerity of the response. Across the table, Dee immediately slapped both hands over her mouth as though physically restraining herself from making noise.

“I’ll tell you more about it when I see you Monday, okay?”

“Okay.”

There was a brief pause. “I can hear you’re out somewhere, so I’ll leave you to it.”