Page 17 of What I'm Looking For

“It’s fine,” I lie, taking the paper towel and brushing the grit out of my knee myself.

He pours some ice into another towel and hands the wad to me. “This’ll help.”

“Are you an EMT, too?”

He grins. “Nah, I just grew up with two brothers.”

Nodding, I tentatively stretch the bruised side. “I think I need to walk this off a little. Thanks for the first aid and… everything.”

“Did you still want to get a cup of coffee?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t need any caffeine right now.”

“Oh, well, then?—”

“But do you want to walk instead?”

The smile on his face seems relieved. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

I fiddle with the strap of my bag. “Okay, good.”

“Here, I’ll take that.” I start to protest, but he’s already eased it off my shoulder.

Without discussion, we head out of the square and onto one of Cambridge’s tree-lined side streets. I figure I’ll circle back around to get my bike later. As we walk slowly through dappled light, the adrenaline’s definitely worn off, but a new jittery feeling shivers just behind my solar plexus. I accidentally brush into him, then lurch away. “Oops. Sorry.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Walking, you know. It can be a challenge. Good thing I’m not trying to talk at the same time. Who knows what could happen. Heh heh.”

Could I possibly be more of a dweeb?

He laughs, the sound as delicious as Häägen-Dazs chocolate.

“Anyway, it’s such a pretty day, can’t waste it crying over spilled juggling pins,” I joke. Lamely.

He gazes up through the trees and inhales deeply. “Yeah. So glad I don’t have to be inside this afternoon.”

A gentle breeze has daffodils waving at us as we stroll down the sidewalk. Two tiny birds flitter from bush to bush, chasing each other.

Will shoves his hands in his pockets. “You’ve got to give the guy credit.” His feet scuff lightly on the concrete. “He’s out there, doing what he loves.”

“I guess.” I look over at him. “If he loves it, why was he so mad at me?”

He shrugs. “Maybe it was just a bad day. Even when you love what you do, it doesn’t always go the way you want it to.”

His voice has dropped in volume, but it still tickles my bones. And other places.

I clear my throat. “Sounds like you speak from experience.”

He squints into the distance. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“So, you love what you do? Acting? Bartending?”

He nods, eyes back on the uneven sidewalk. “Yeah. I mean, I like bartending okay. The money’s good, and I’m good at it. I like talking to people, and I’ve been working there for so long I can make my own hours. Acting, I do love.” When he smiles, my heart nearly stops. It makes sense that people pay good money to watch him onstage. “I’m lucky I get to work as much as I do.”

He’s like a different species from my male colleagues. And not just because his voice makes me wobbly all over. Wearing yet another goofy vest, this one striped, he seems comfortable in his skin. The air blows through his dark curls, free of slick gel. His light blue eyes, flecked with gold… look like he’s expecting me to say something. I furrow my brow, pretend I’m contemplating deep thoughts instead of wishing I could jump his bones. What the heck were we talking about? “So… how does it work? Do you always work at the same theater?”

“No, I audition for plays all over town. Most of my work is with one Shakespeare company, though. I’m one of the younger founding members, and I just got bumped up to fight choreographer. I’ve been in every show we’ve produced.”

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