Jan. Week 3: Wednesday Evening...Leah lies it off barely (Luck:-20, Suspicion: -10)

Jonathan was already home as Leah entered the house she found him hunched over the kitchen table, sorting piles of mail into little heaps and haphazardly shoving stray items into drawers. This was his pre-Game Night ritual of hastily getting things ready.

He looked up when she walked through the door, and right away Leah could tell he was in one of those moods—the ones where his brow furrowed and his mouth twisted halfway between a smile and a frown.

"Hey, babe," he said, voice ****-casual as he wiped his hands on a dish towel. "You're late. Thought you were home an hour ago?"

He kept his tone light, but Leah could sense the suspicion prowling just beneath the surface. She dragged her teacher-bag behind her like a corpse and tried for a sunny smile.

"Sorry, traffic was hell. And I had to stay late to do some lesson prep. You know how it is."

Jonathan's eyes narrowed, but he let it go. But not for long

He followed her into the kitchen, hovering, trying to be nonchalant but tripping over his own feet. Leah grabbed a glass and filled it at the sink.

"So," Jonathan ventured, "anything interesting happen at school today?"

Leah bit her lip and tried not to think of what Mr. Baker and her had just done.

"Not really," she replied.

She set the glass down, and Jonathan reached for her, arms wrapping around her waist. He nuzzled her neck and kissed her. Leah tensed, then relaxed into the embrace, letting him press her gently up against the fridge.

"You know," he murmured, "you can talk to me if something's bothering you. I know you've been working late a lot lately." His voice faltered. "If there's something going on…"

Leah could have crumpled right there, but she steadied herself with the same internal grit she used to grade midterms or face eating cafeteria meatloaf. She turned her face upwards locking eyes with him, and gave her most earnest smile.

"I'm fine, babe. Promise."

But Jonathan was smart, and she could see the gears turning.

"You sure? You just seem, I don't know… distant. Distracted. I know it's a busy time at school, but… I'm here, okay?"

Leah gathered her composure, drawing a careful, measured breath. She focused on the mundane: the sound of Jonathan’s nervous shuffling behind her, the faint click and whirr of the refrigerator, the cold condensation sweating down the side of her glass. She could feel the scrutiny in his gaze—Jonathan always tried to project a laid-back, nerd-casual vibe, but he was absolutely the kind of guy who noticed when time didn’t add up. He’d built a career out of debugging, after all, and lately she felt like she was just another one of his gnarly codebases, bristling with uncommented lines and mysterious function calls.

“Long day,” she said, reaching for a plausible-but-not-too-detailed excuse. “We had a department meeting, and then I had to chase down a bunch of missing homework. Honestly, I’m just fried. Didn’t even get to eat lunch.” She **** a wan laugh, hoping the false note would pass for fatigue instead of duplicity.

Jonathan hovered, hands on his hips, chewing the inside of his cheek. The man could out-stare a sphinx, and he did so now. Maybe he was searching her face for tells. Maybe he was just tired. Either way, Leah felt her skin prickle, the residue of her earlier degradation prickling beneath her work blazer, marching up her neck. She pressed the glass to her lips and took a long drink, as if water might wash the guilt from her tongue.

“Okay,” Jonathan said at last, drawing out the syllable. “That makes sense, I guess. Sorry you had such a rough day.” He pursed his lips, pretending to accept the story—or maybe really trying to. “I was just worried, you know. It’s not like you to ghost me. I texted twice.”

Leah’s phone, of course, was still on silent from the porn shoot. She’d forgotten entirely. She conjured a sheepish look, one that she’d perfected in college for missed deadlines and hungover mornings.

“Sorry, babe. I left my phone on silent from testing, and I barely even noticed. I’m the worst.”

“I’m gonna get started on snacks for Game Night,” Jonathan finally offered, voice falsely chipper. Leah saw her chance, seizing it with the desperation of a drowning woman.

“Actually,” she said, “do you mind if I jump in the shower before everyone gets here? I feel… gross. Just want to rinse off the day.”

“Sure,” Jonathan said, gesturing toward the hallway. “Go for it. I’ll get the chips ready.”