Page 81 of Caper Crush
“I’ll pay the meter,” I say as William pulls into a parking space. “I can probably hobble there, leaning on you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” William says. “You’re no problem to carry.”
I’m five foot eight and muscular. But William was all hard muscle when I was pressed up against him.
He lifts me again and does grunt a bit this time. Ha, I’m not quite as light as he’s making out. But it’s sweet he’s trying. He smells like clean laundry. I slide my hands around his back to hold him. He’s wearing a long-sleeved, waffle cotton shirt that is soft against my arms.
The uncles follow behind.
“In K-dramas, it’s always a piggyback ride,” I say.
“Do you want me to give you a piggyback ride?” He looks down at me.
I lean my head against his chest. “No, this works for me.”
I sneak a look. He’s blushing.
All four of us take the elevator up to William’s friend’s apartment. William puts me down, and I stand on my one foot, keeping the weight off my swollen ankle. As we reach the eleventh floor, William picks me up again as I protest—but not too much.
A folded-up stroller, rainboots, and a tricycle stand sentry outside the door.
The door opens, and William introduces me to his friend Advik and his wife, Saanvi. Advik is tall with warm, brown eyes. Saanvi is wearing a red dress; her face crumples in concern.
“Oh, that looks really swollen.” Saanvi clucks over me as a little girl around three years old peeks from behind her legs. She takes the little girl by the hand and walks ahead of us through the hallway.
“Watch the entrance,” I say to William. The doorframe looks a little narrow for us to proceed straight in.
“I am.” He shifts me slightly. I think he’s beginning to tire out.
“Go sideways so you don’t hit my foot,” I say.
“You seem to be in less pain.” William grunts.
“It’s my foot that’s hurt. Not my mouth.”
“Pity.”
I punch him lightly.
His glance meets mine. “Is that wise? I could drop you.”
I tighten my arms around him. “In front of your friends? I doubt it.”
He lowers his arms slightly and I drop.
“Oh.” I grab on even tighter. “Okay, okay, I’ll trust your navigation.”
“Don’t worry about taking off your shoes,” Saanvi says. “Just carry her through to the couch.”
William turns to sidestep through the front door. The hallway is narrow and, like many small, New York family apartments, has a coatrack with backpacks and a shoe rack for shoes, so there’s even less space to maneuver. It’s like he’s doing a side lunge down the hallway. He grunts accordingly. I feel as attractive as a gigantic bag of potatoes.
Finally, we reach the entrance to the living room, where he drops my butt onto the couch like a sack of flour, but my foot is protected as it still sticks out.
“Oomph,” I say. He sinks down next to me. Uncle Tony and Takashi trail in behind after removing their shoes.
The two kids check me out.
“Here, let me get your sock off. I’ve got a better angle.” William takes my foot carefully and rolls down my sock gently. I still squeak as it hurts. He shakes his head. My swollen foot has already turned a purplish blue.
