Page 57 of Reply All
I burst out laughing in surprise and slap him on the arm. “William! What?”
He throws his head back in laughter, struggling to keep his eyes on the road. “What! It’s a nice chest.” He shrugs casually. “And I thought it would make you feel better to know you’re not the only one doing it.”
I bite my lip to hide my smile, because I should feel offended, shouldn’t I? But I’m not.
Oh god, this is a mess.
“Thank you for the compliment, I think? But also, how about wenotlook at each other’s chests anymore?”
“Like, in general or just in front of my mom? Because I don’t know if I can promise not looking at it long term. I’ll try to be more subtle next time, but…” He laughs when I hit him again. “Okay, okay. I get it. Boobs are off limits. Gotcha.”
I shake my head at the ridiculousness of this moment. We are crazy, but I love the way we are—a series of contradictions. Comfortable enough to talk about mutual ogling of chests, yet feeling a tension so tight after doing so that I feel like bursting out of my skin.
“I hope she likes the presents I got her,” I murmur, looking over my shoulder at the backseat where I’ve left them.
“You know, you didn’t have to bring her a present—let alone three,” Will tells me, eyeing the gifts in the rear view mirror.
“I’m sorry, but in what world is it okay to arrive to a birthday party empty handed? And I’m meetingyour mom. That’s important to me.”
He presses his lips together, eyes on the road as he tries not to smile. “Why is that important to you?”
“I want your mom to like me.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“God, why are you being such a toddler this morning? Did you forget your coffee or something? Or have too much of it?” I run my hands down my thighs, smoothing my dress. I don’t want to look a mess when I get to his mom’s house, which, according to the GPS, is in twenty minutes.
Will laughs at my frustration. “Bridge, I’m just fucking with you. I just think you’re cute when you’re nervous. But I’m trying to understand why you’re even nervous to begin with.”
I exhale and look out the window, staring at the bare trees on the side of the highway. It’s February, but spring seems so far away.
I don’t look at him as I speak. “You’re… important to me. And she’s important to you. Which means it’s important to me that she likes me.”
He’s quiet for a moment as he processes my words. “Okay, then. I’ll stop teasing.”
I nod, eyes still firmly looking out my passenger window.
“For the record though, it’s also important to me that you guys get along. But it wouldn’t change anything between us if you didn’t.”
Not long after, we arrive to a small, but cozy-looking ranch-style home in a town I’ve never heard of before. The house is hidden behind a couple of bare, overgrown trees Will frowns at, but the walkway is clear and tidy.
“…told them to prune the branches last month before spring gets here… looks like fucking Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow…” He sighs and shakes his head, pulling our gifts from the backseat.
“You know,” he starts, “at the risk of bringing this up again, you didn’t have to get her flowers, a gift, and cookies. I’m sure this bouquet was enough.”
“Well,” I say, taking the three items from him. “The flowers are like a basic ‘Thank you for having me in your home’ gift. The birthday present is for her birthday—duh. And the cookies are from that cookie decorator who does all the celebrities’ cookies on instagram? Kooky Cookie Queen? You know the one. The famous one. She did a Valentine’s collab with that small coffee chain by my house, so I snagged a few before they sold out.”
“Famous cookie decorator foryou, you mean.” He smiles, placing a hand on my lower back, using it to guide me up the walkway to his mother’s house.
Even through my coat, I feel its warmth. The heat rises up my spine and down between my legs. It causes my upper body to turn into a shade of bright vermillion, I’m sure.
One touch, and suddenly my mind is filled with filthy thoughts of flashbacks and fantasies of him and me together, back in my bed.
Sigh.
