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12
THE BIG REVEAL
Ialready knew what he looked like, obviously. We’ve been FaceTiming nonstop since last week. Every morning, Will and I get ready for work together, talk through what our day looks like, what we’re hoping to achieve, and gossip about our companies’ collab—without ever crossing any lines, of course. And then, at night, we sometimes have dinner together while on a call and talk right all the way through to bedtime, slipping into our respective beds after changing into our PJs off camera, heads laying on our pillows as we yawn and wish each other a goodnight. He’s become the first person I speak to when I wake and the last before I go to bed—excluding Ginger, of course. So after hours of seeing his face every day for the past week or so, I did not expect to be so rattled by his looks.
And yet…
All of the oxygen in the room is sucked out when I see him open the door to the bar, his eyes searching through the crowd until they land on me. I try to control my expression, to not reveal how my skin has turned blazing hot in a split second, but I’m one and a half drinks deep and a bit of a lightweight, so who knows what my face looks like now?
Picking up my jaw from where it fell on the sticky bar floor, I wave him over. With a tentative smile, he walks slowly toward the high top, stopping just a foot away.
He takes a deep breath, eyes wide as he takes me in, before speaking. “Hey.” His voice is soft and rich, and I want to dive into it head first. I want to let myself sink in that single word and never come back for air—not if it means never hearing him say it again with that look in his eyes, like he can’t believe this is real, either. Like he never wants to look away.
He runs his fingers through his wet hair, waiting for me to reply with something. And I try—I really do—but nothing comes out.
He’s here.Will. Is here. In front of me. Right now.
And I’m blowing it.
Finally, I manage to whisper, “Hi.”
With the grace of a bull in a china shop, I attempt to slide off my stool to… hug him? Kiss him on both cheeks like a European would? Shake his hand? Anything… But my legs turn to jelly when I catch the deep brown of his eyes, the curve of his lips, and lose my balance. On instinct, Will catches me just in time, right before I fall face first onto the dirty floor.
“You okay?” His brows pull together as he helps me to my feet, his big hands comforting as they wrap around my biceps. How can they be this warm when he’s just come in from the cold? How does he look this amazing even after so clearly being rained on outside with no umbrella in sight?
“Yeah,” I say with a shaky laugh. “Thank god you caught me before I touched that filthy floor. I would’ve probably ended up needing a tetanus shot from it.”
He snorts and shakes his head, eyes bright even under the dim bar lights. “Too true. Why’d you pick this place, anyway?”
He’s so beautiful. Yes, Will is six-foot-a thousand and while I think it’s safe to say he isn’t Arnold Schwarzenegger, he’s definitely a gym rat in the best possible way—lean, strong as a tree, yet still has a welcoming softness to him. He’s still beautiful—a word I never would’ve thought I’d use to describe a guy. A sculpture of a man with angular cheeks, straight nose, smooth tan skin. His thick but tidy brows accentuate every single one of his expressions when he speaks. Will’s dark curly hair looks so inviting, I have to fist my hands to keep from reaching out and running my fingers through it.
When I first saw him through my phone screen, I was surprised by how attractive he was. Now that I have him in front of me? I’m speechless. How can a man so kind, so sweet and intelligent, be this good looking? I thought God didn’t give with two hands, yet here he stands, Will Jacobs, evidence to the contrary. And he’s here forme.
As friends, but still.
I try for a settling, deep breath to calm the sudden swell of emotions, but it turns out to be a massive mistake. A wave of orange blossoms and vanilla falls over me, and suddenly I can’t produce a rational thought, let alone move.
“Bridget? Are you okay?” he asks, glancing furtively at the half empty glass in front of me. “Uh, are you… are you drunk?”
Mortified, I clear my throat and try to get it together because I sure as hell don’t want Will’s first IRL impression of me to be of me drunk. Because I’m not, by the way—just a little tipsy.
(Although there’s no denying his arrival has made me feel a different kind of intoxicated.)
“No.No.” I sigh. “Sorry, I’m just taken a little aback. It’s been a long, shitty day, and now you’re here and…” I trail off, unsure of what else to say.
Hurt, he takes a step back, releasing the grip he still held around my arms. “Do you want me to leave?”
“What?No, of course not.”
“Then…”
“I’m thrilled you’re here. Really. I’m just confused. Because…” I sigh again, even deeper this time, trying to organize my thoughts. “I have other friends—friends I’ve known for years, even—but my first instinct was to callyou, to ask foryou. It’s your shoulder I want to cry on. And... it’sweird.”
“Weird?” I hate the way he still looks hurt.
“Not weird,” I say, frustrated I can’t seem to form a normal sentence. “Just odd. I… I don’t know you.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth, the hurt on his face even more clear and present than before.
“Don’t you?” Will takes a step closer, his scent surrounding me even more.
