The kiss lingered like smoke in the air between us.
The drive to the market was drenched in silence—holy silence. The kind of silence that swelled so thick, you could slice it with a butter knife. Carl didn't say a word. I didn't dare look at him. My fingers curled tightly around the hem of my blouse like they were trying to hold me together.
How dare he kiss me? No—how dare I like it?
I stared out the window like it owed me an answer. The streets of Ontario moved past us, the sound of city life rising and falling like waves, but inside that car, time had frozen.
When we finally reached the market, the scent of spices, roasted corn, and fresh produce wrapped around us like a familiar shawl. The bustle and warmth of human interaction was a jolt from the quiet tension. Market women hollered prices, children ran between stalls, and somewhere, a loudspeaker was blasting old Canadian music.
I clutched the shopping basket like it was a shield.
We'd only walked a few steps before one of the market women smiled at us brightly and chirped, "Wow, you both look good together."
I froze.
Carl chuckled softly, his voice warm, "Thank you, ma."
But I spun immediately. "No, we aren't a couple. He's my boss."
The words flew out faster than I could think. My tone was sharp, overly defensive. The woman gave me a knowing side glance, laughed, and waved us off like she saw through my denial.
Carl said nothing.
Why did I feel like I'd said something wrong?
I tried to pretend it didn't matter, that it wasn't gnawing at me like a termite in my chest. I focused on the vegetables in my hand. Red peppers, onions, some carrots for stir-fry. My hands moved like a machine—anything to keep from thinking about what just happened between us. Anything to keep from remembering the softness of his lips or the shock in his eyes when I ran.
Then—
"Help! Help!"
The cry cut through the marketplace like a blade. Heads turned, people scattered, and I saw him—a young man, probably early twenties, darting between people with a plastic purse in his hand.
Without thinking, I dropped the groceries and stepped into his path.
I was faster than him.
Almost.
I caught him around the waist, twisting him midair and trying to throw him down. But the thief shoved back hard, his elbow slamming into my stomach. I gasped, my arms loosening, and he bolted forward again.
But he didn't get far.
Carl appeared from nowhere like a ghost in uniform, grabbing the thief by the collar and slamming him to the ground with military efficiency. The thief let out a sharp cry as Carl pinned him, his expression dark and unreadable.
Within seconds, two uniformed soldiers approached from a nearby stall. Their eyes widened as they recognized Carl, snapping into salutes.
"Sir!"
"At ease," Carl said. "Take him to the barracks for processing."
"Yes, sir!"
Carl turned to me. "You alright?"
"I'll survive," I muttered, wincing as I held my side. "He caught me off-guard."
"You shouldn't have tried to take him down alone," he said, but his voice was laced with something that sounded like admiration. "Still, not bad."
"I'm rusty," I muttered, frustrated. "Too much mopping floors, not enough sparring."
"We're following them to the barracks," Carl said without question, and I followed, cradling my bruised stomach.
The barracks weren't far—just a few minutes' walk. The gates opened for Carl like he owned the place. Soldiers moved out of his way, saluting with respectful nods. He was clearly someone here.
The thief was dragged into the holding room, still breathless and muttering excuses.
I stood quietly beside Carl, trying to catch my breath, feeling strange in this environment of clipped commands and harsh lighting. My jeans were dusty from the scuffle, and my pride had taken a small hit, but something about Carl's calm, commanding presence made me feel oddly safe.
Then the door opened—and in stepped a man who commanded even more silence.
Colonel.
He was tall, well-built, with graying hair and a sharp, calculating gaze that swept across the room before settling on Carl.
"Summer," the man said, striding forward. "I heard you were in town. Where's the culprit?"
Carl nodded toward the thief. "He tried to rob a vendor. We stopped him."
The Colonel turned toward me next, his eyes narrowing. "And who is this?"
Before Carl could speak, I opened my mouth—why, I'll never know.
"His girlfriend," I blurted.
The room froze.
Every head turned. A heavy silence dropped into the air.
Carl blinked. "Sidney…"
I looked around.
Three soldiers stared at me. The Colonel raised an eyebrow. Carl's lips parted like he was about to correct me—but didn't.
Then Jake walked in.
"Sidney?" he said, clearly startled. "What are you doing here?"
Oh God.
I turned slowly. His eyes were fixed on mine, but not with confusion—no. It was disappointment. Maybe even jealousy.
"She's Summer's girlfriend," the Colonel added with a smirk, clapping a hand on Carl's back.
Jake's jaw tightened.
Carl said nothing.
I wished the ground would open and swallow me whole.
"Uh—I think I need to use the restroom," I mumbled, trying to excuse myself.
"Sidney," Jake said, stopping me in my tracks. "Is that true?"
I looked at him. His eyes weren't cold, but they weren't kind either.
"I—" I looked to Carl for rescue.
Carl finally stepped forward. "It was a misunderstanding. She meant—she's here with me. Not that we're dating."
The Colonel raised an amused brow. "So not dating?"
"No," Carl said. Then he glanced at me. "Not yet."
Not yet?
Jake stared at him.
The tension in the room became unbearable.
"I'm sorry," I whispered and rushed out before anyone could say another word.
***
Outside the barracks, I stood near a tree, arms folded, trying not to cry from sheer embarrassment. I'd made a mess. First with the kiss. Now with the "girlfriend" line. And Jake—Jake looked at me like I'd betrayed him, even though he'd never claimed me.
Carl joined me a moment later.
"You okay?" he asked gently.
I nodded. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"It's fine," he said. "Surprising. But fine."
"I thought it'd help avoid awkward questions," I mumbled. "Guess I made it worse."
He chuckled softly. "You made it interesting."
I looked up. "Do you have a girlfriend? Like… in reality?"
"No."
"Wife?"
"God, no."
I exhaled. "So… when you said 'not yet'—was that for real or just to save face?"
Carl smiled. "Why don't you stick around and find out?"
My heart stuttered.
And in the silence that followed, I wondered when exactly my life had become a tangled mess of bruises, secrets, and stolen kisses in stairwells.
But one thing was clear: it was about to get even messier.