Where No Shadow Stays

For a supposed loner, Jesse Talbot is surprisingly clingy.

“You aren’t gonna shake me, Mansour. We’re neighbors,” Jesse says. I absently open my mouth to correct him before realizing I don’t need to. He pronounced my last name without any trouble. Mun-soor.

Jesse matches my clip down the street. I glare at his long legs, pumping mine in retaliation. Five foot four is a perfectly decent height. I haven’t had a problem with it until now, when it’s forcing me to linger next to a six-foot-two pile of questions I can’t answer.

Under normal circumstances, I would probably be too shocked by the sheer novelty of Jesse acknowledging my existence to care about the context.