Page 48 of Reply All
Something about that—something about theIt’s youof it all really does it for me. So much so, I almost melt—even in the thirty-degree weather.
“I really don’t want to be in the fashion industry in any sort of capacity, if I’m being honest. I think that’s obvious. This job was born out of pure necessity, though. Or desperation, more like it. And I made a commitment I need to see through, so there’s no way I can just…” He sighs. “I have a lot riding on this job right now.”
“You hate it.”
He stares into my eyes, before whispering. “Yes. Very much so. But not necessarily because of what the job entails. But more what it represents. And more recently, I’ve grown to resent it for other reasons.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Are we speaking in riddles now?
“It just means that… In a nutshell, it’s not what I want to be doing, nor is it with people I want to be surrounded by. Not at all. And sure, I’m good at my job, I guess. I mean, I recently got a promotion, right before meeting you. So there’s that. But, to be honest, it doesn’t mean shit to me. None of it does when it has no meaning.”
“So if not this job, then what? I think the whole ‘someone handing over the keys to their empire to you’ thing is a realistic expectation.” I try to cheer him up with a smile, and it almost works. His lips quirk up a bit at my confidence in his abilities. “You’re smart and capable enough to find something that will work for you.”
Honestly, who wouldn’t find this man absolutely charming? Sure, his looks are something out of Hollywood, but his personality is unmatched, his heart is one of a kind, and his mind is a never-ending source of fascination for me.
Will stares quietly at a flock of pigeons fighting over some leftover crumbs a few feet away from us. I don’t think I’ve asked him a particularly difficult question, but it takes him a moment to answer.
When he does, it’s after heaving a very big sigh: “I don’t think it’s that, exactly. I don’t think I feel like I’ve suddenly been put into this box I’ll never be able to get out of, if that’s what you mean.”
“Then whatdoyou mean? Why does Will Jacobs feel trapped when it looks like, from the outside, the world is his oyster? Besides this big commitment you said you made, I mean. What did you do before this job?”
He sighs once again and reaches out to grab one of my hands in both of his before meeting my gaze. I feel a warm liquid spread through my veins. Sinking slightly in my seat at his delicious touch, I say a mental prayer to the universe that he never lets go.
“I… I used to be a teacher. Math. High school AP.”
I gasp quietly becausewhat?Will Jacobs dressed in full teacher mode, shaping the young minds of the world? It might be even hotter than any other version of Will Jacobs I’ve met or spoken to to date.
Maybe. There’s just so much to choose from, really.
With great effort, I hide my sudden and very unexpected need to throw myself at him (even if we are in public) and take a sip of what’s left of my hot coffee.
“I… wasn’t expecting that.”
A corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile. “What were you expecting from my past life?”
“I… don’t know. Stripper, maybe? You’ve certainly got the body.”
A loud guffaw bursts through him, and you can almost physicallyseethe tension leave his body as he laughs. He threads the fingers of his hand through mine and I stop breathing. What the hell is this? Do friends do this?God, I should’ve never slept with him. My mind is a mess.
“A stripper? Nah. Don’t have the coordination.”
You certainly seemed to have fantastic coordination last night, I almost say.
“Did being a teacher make you happy?” I ask, trying my best to control my breathing before it turns absolutely erratic. My reaction to this innocent touch is almost out of a Victorian era novel, as if it were the most scandalous thing to happen in the ton.
He frowns, completely unaware of the internal battle going on inside me. “Not particularly, no. Is that awful of me to say? That I didn’t enjoy it?”
“Why would it be?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Isn’t everyone supposed to find working with kids fulfilling or something? Does it make me a horrible person that I just… fell into it? Like… I like kids in general. Really want to have one with the right woman one day.” His eyes flash up to my face, cheeks red. “But teaching high school kids was a nightmare.”
I snort because I can imagine. We were all teenagers once.
In an effort to comfort him, I squeeze his hand. “I think it makes you human. And it’s okay if you didn’t find one of the hardest professions in the world—because teaching is absolutely one of the hardest and most thankless jobs out there—fulfilling.”
“Yeah. I don’t know. I just have a few things to figure out.”
“Don’t we all,” I say with a laugh.
