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“Yeah, of course.” Will smiles, squeezing my hands. He exhales once before pinning me down with an intense stare in his eyes. “You’ve turned my days around so many times, Bridge.” His voice is full of awe as he shakes his head. “Before you, I was kind of holding on by a thread. But you’ve shown me a different path, you know? Yes, work sucks, but I’ve been creating a toxic environment for myself and others by focusing on how much I don’t like my job. And maybe if I focus on the good, remind myself why I’m actually there, I can keep going for as long as I have to.”
His words make my head swirl, lost in their sweetness. But then the last part of his statement makes me do a mental double-take: “As long as you have to? What does that mean?”
Will’s face shifts into one of concern. “Nothing. I just mean that I probably shouldn’t be so negative all the time. That maybe, even though I really do hate my job and don’t want to be there, I make things worse for myself. And I love that you’ve taught me that lesson.”
“Oh. Okay.” I want to push a little more because he didn’t really answer my question, but his hands are still holding mine—or I’m still holding his?—and my skin is on fire, I’m sure of it. Even warmer still is the feeling building deep inside my abdomen, low in my tummy, and between my thighs. And even though I’veknownWill is attractive since the second I saw him over FaceTime, it’s the first time I’m able to admit to myself something much bigger: Iwanthim. I want himbad. More than for a silly sexting session.
Stupid Bridget. He’s basically turned into your best friend. Youcannotruin what you guys have by being this attracted to him. Plus, he was so clearlynotinto you when he first saw you on FaceTime, remember? Drop it and move on. What are you even thinking?
I pull my hands away with a heavy sigh and look out the bar window, see that the rain has not stopped pouring since this afternoon. When I first got to the pub, I could’ve sworn the weather was matching my mood—dark, gloomy, and a bit end-of-the-world-y. But now that I’m feeling a different kind of frustration and despair, I wonder what it will turn into. ‘Horny and disheartened’ doesn’t really have a matching meteorological pattern, doest it? Maybe a heatwave.
Sigh.
Feeling Will’s eyes on me, I look around the pub, taking in my surroundings as I contemplate what to do. I watch a group of people move to the beat of the music, louder now that it’s later, on the small pub dance floor. Watch the couples with envy as they sway with their arms around each other, smiling as they do. A dark part of myself I rarely let free peeks out from beneath where I keep it hidden, my ability to keep my head above water in difficult situations waning. Squeezing my eyes shut, I visualize the darkness, push it back down where it belongs, locking the door behind me. With a deep breath, I open my eyes and look straight into the chocolate eyes of the man who’s taken over every corner of my brain for weeks.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
“For what?”
“For meeting me tonight, even though it’s raining outside.”
His eyes widen, spine straightens as the muscles in his neck visibly tense. “What do you mean?”
“The rain. You don’t like it. And still, you came. I know it must’ve been hard.”
He’s stunned, his lips agape as he processes my words. “You know?”
I smile at him. “Only that you don’t like it.”
“It’s… a long story.” He looks down at his hands, frowning. “But it’s not like I’mscaredof it or anything. Just… bad memories.”
He clasps his hands together in his lap, unsettled. We don’t speak for some time until the song changes to one of my favorites, slow and sultry. Without thinking twice, I ask, “Will you dance with me and tell me about it?”
Will looks up, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d love to.”
I take one of his hands in mine, and lead him to the makeshift dance floor in the small cleared space in the pub where I wrap my arms around his neck as he slips his arms around my waist.
WILL
The ache in his chest grows tenfold in an instant, making it nearly impossible for him to breathe. He’d rather live with it forever, though, because its presence is exclusive to hers. And now that he’s seen her, that he’s held her in his arms, he never wants to look away, will always want her around.
14
WHO WOULDA KNOWN MY FRONT DOOR WOULD BE SO COMFORTABLE?
Eyes closed, I let myself enjoy this perfect moment: Will’s hands around my waist, my head resting on the place between his chest and his shoulder—what feels like a perfect nook made just for me—inhaling his scent like an addict.This is Will. All of him.
His breath is warm on my ear when he finally speaks after a full slow dance in silence. “My mom was in a car crash almost five years ago that left her paralyzed from the waist down.”
My breath hitches, and I hold him tighter to my body. He responds the same way, gripping me closer to him as if needing to hold me to him in order to get through the rest of the story.
“It was raining—pouring, really—and…” Even over the music and the loud crowd, even over the sound of laughter and dishes clattering from where we stand a few feet from the kitchen entrance, I hear him swallow hard. “And I was driving. We hydroplaned, I lost control of the car, and just… fucked up my mom’s life.” His voice breaks, but he clears his throat immediately after. Even so, there’s no way to hide the pain in his voice. The guilt and shame he so clearly feels for what happened to her.
I dig my fingers into him, pulling him closer still. “Will,” I whisper, wanting so much to help him.
“I—I wasn’t drunk or anything. I just lost control of the car. But…” He shakes his head, then breathes me in when he dips his nose in my hair.
“It wasn’t your fault. At all.”
