Page 20 of Handle with Care
Will’s head snaps up then, and he scans my expression to see if I’m getting in another dig at him. But I smile back, and he relaxes again. Why’s he so reactive to what I say? Like my opinion matters to him. Fat chance.
“The rest of the cars are out in a warehouse somewhere outside of London. The bigger ones, anyway. I haven’t been out there yet, but Lily’s told me about them. And the warehouse.”
He nods, taking in the cars. They’re both small electric cars, prototypes.
“They’re from Europe somewhere,” I explain helpfully. “We can look them up.”
“Actually...” Will tilts his head slightly, walking around the car. “That looks like a Toyota Prius. It’s the first mass-produced electric vehicle.”
“How do you know that?” I marvel, surprised.
Will lifts an eyebrow at me, a smile playing on his lips. He points at the car. “For starters, it says Toyota Prius on the back,” he explains. “And Toyotas are made in Japan. Usually.”
My face burns. “I totally knew that.” And maybe I did, once.
“Most people know that, in fact.” But he doesn’t say that in a withering way. He’s distracted, peering into the car, like he’ssearching for ancient secrets. “It’s from the first generation of Priuses. From the late ’90s.”
“It can’t say that in there,” I say in dismay, going to stand beside him and peering in too. Then, I realize we’re practically shoulder to shoulder, so close I can feel the heat radiating from him. And I get goose bumps.
“The museum tag on the rearview says 1997, see? As for the Japanese connection, that’s common knowledge, like I said.”
“I don’t really know tons about cars,” I admit, sheepish. “Japanese or otherwise.”
“I’ve noticed.”
As we stare into the car, our arms accidentally brush.
We both straighten then, and we’re too close to one another. He quickly takes a step back and nearly stumbles, and then smooths his waves of hair off his forehead to cover. If anything, I move away even faster, hopping back like it’s an electric shock.
We’re met with another of our increasingly familiar awkward silences.
“So, you like cars, then. Especially sports cars.” Which is probably the stupidest thing to date that I’ve said to him. Thank you, mouth.
His lips twitch. “You could say that.”
“I guess we all have our things. That we like.”
“Yes.” Will looks at me, curiosity getting the better of him. “And yours is?”
“Museums,” I blurt, because it’s the first thing that comes to mind. And if I said dating it would make me look too flaky, especially compared with him and how seriously he’s been reading that museum book and making lists for the exhibition.
“We’ve come full circle, then,” he says wryly.
And I think of the fight we’ve just let the dust settle on, and I don’t really want to rehash our conversation—or fight—about my museums experience or the internship. Or the one job atthe end of this that we’re competing for. Except I don’t have a chance since I don’t have his connections, but I really don’t want to go back to Canada at the end of the summer to struggle to find a new job in Vancouver.
“Mm.”
He glances at his luxury watch. “We’re meant to meet Lily in five minutes.”
“Oh shit. I lost track of the time. Let’s get out of here.”
I lead the way out through the collections, through an assortment of odd shapes and objects lining the shelves and corridors of this underground lair of museum objects. I take him through the front way out, shutting off the lights as we leave. As promised, we take the freight elevator back up to the boardroom level in time to meet Lily.
She’s already in the boardroom when we return.
“Sorry, we were downstairs. I wanted to show Will the collections.” Quickly, we go to our seats.
Will looks a bit flustered as we settle in again behind the safety of our laptops at opposite ends of the table, with Lily between us. Her back’s to the window, backlit somewhat by the bright day. I squint slightly to look at her.
