Page 63 of Handle with Care
“You have a very fine bottom. I love looking at it.”
Which sends me into peals of laughter, because he sounds so formal and yet so charming at the same time. He looks a little confused.
“Was it something I said?” he asks. “About your arse?”
“It was great. Top marks.” I wheeze, tears streaming. I do my best to look more serious. “Okay. Right. I probably should get going to let you do the things you need to do on the weekend.”
“It’s a sensible idea.” Will hesitates. He lifts his eyebrows hopefully. “Would you stay for lunch first? I mean, I would hate for you to go hungry.”
“Absolutely. Great point.”
And I stay for lunch. After lunch, we find ourselves unable to keep our hands off each other. Instead of me leaving, we spend the afternoon urgent in bed together at first, then languid like we’ve dissolved our bones. It’s dizzying, this feeling. Such a rush beyond description.
And, in the end, I end up staying over on Saturday night too.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Back at work the next week, we’re all business, and then after-hours pleasures consume us. In the sultry summer heat wave, we spend the nights at Will’s, unable to keep our hands off each other. We’re short on sleep, but euphoria’s been carrying us through the days, along with the added tension of keeping everything at work under wraps. It only makes the evenings hotter.
At the museum, the pressure’s on as the gallery closes midweek for the show changeover. Our workdays are long and full of planning meetings and logistics with the curatorial team. Every nook and cranny of our limited collections space is full of exhibits for the show, waiting to move up into the gallery space. Some of the bigger pieces will arrive soon for delivery directly into the gallery because we won’t have room for them until then.
With the summer show in the second gallery officially closed, we walk through with Lily, who’s giving us the latest instructions as the technicians start to bring crates into the main gallery. “You’ll be meeting representatives from the different lending organizations, art couriers, and then accompanying deliveries as needed across London. Given the schedule, you may need to work separately for this phase. I hope that’s alright.”
We look at each other.
Will gives off his best Mr. McLaren vibes, all charm at work, which I now know veils a much more vulnerable core. But he’s a master study in smooth. He gives a nonchalant shrug. “Absolutely, anything you need, Lily. You can count on us.”
“Separately or together,” I add, giving Will a sidelong glance. Purely for professional reasons, that is, not because I’m checking him out or anything. Not even a little bit. His work persona is also tragically hot. “We’ve got this.”
“I’m so happy to hear.” Lily smiles as she pulls out her phone. “I’m emailing you the schedule I’ve drawn up for you both and sending it to the printer.”
And she does, on the spot. Even Will looks impressed at that.
“Now you can start in on the condition reporting, working alongside the techs.” She pauses, reflecting. “Oh. I should also mention that I will need some flexibility from you both in terms of schedules, in addition to working separately. For security and timing reasons, some after-hours pickups and drop-offs with the techs as needed may be scheduled, including weekends.”
When I had my offer letter, it did mention occasional evening and weekend work, so it’s not a total shock when Lily tells us the plan. And of course, the main reason I’m here in London is for the museum experience. But it’s well into August, and the summer’s end is dangerously close.
Over the last few days, I’ve been carefully not thinking about the end of our internships at the end of the month. Or what that might mean for Will and me. Because right now, I have a ticket booked back to Canada on August 31. But the irregular schedule means less time with Will. And that’s an unexpected gut punch.
“And”—Lily gives us a wry look—“I should tell you both that although I’ve been campaigning hard to keep you both at the end of the summer, there’s only enough budget for one of you. So, I do hope you both make the best of the next three weeks.”
Like we need the reminder of what’s on the line, professionally.
I cough slightly, thinking of the recent torrid nights with Will. But more than the sex, he’s starting to mean far more to me than I could have ever expected. And that’s a terrifying thought.
For his part, Will still looks impassive, with no physical clue to his emotions or thoughts. Which is good for a professional workplace, but bad for the start of my latest inward spiral.
“I’m happy to say, however, that you will be compensated with the appropriate overtime pay to put your minds at ease,” Lily says. “Since there isn’t enough time left to have the time off in lieu.”
“Thank you, Lily. We will,” he says easily.
Which is probably easier for him to say because I’m still convinced he’s the shoo-in for the position. Because he’s been a quick study, a hard worker, and, of course, well connected to the museum’s executive through his family. And I’m some random guy from Canada, even if I have the official museums training. Together, we do make a great team in the workplace. And on our own time too.
Don’t think about this right now, I tell myself sternly. Focus on what Lily needs us to do.
Which, right now, is helping set up equipment and a mobile work area with the usual things: condition report forms, clipboards, the exhibit files, plenty of packing supplies, nearly all on carts. Laptops too. We essentially move our office from the boardroom to the gallery. Except for the giant rolls of ethafoam and bubble wrap that stand nearly as tall as us. We build a supply fort. It’s not quite as fun as the blanket fort we built last night in his living room to watch a movie till we got distracted, but we’ve got the mechanics down. As if by silent agreement, we work efficiently together with a minimum of conversation.
We set up a workstation with a couple of folding tables, boxes of blue nitrile gloves, large sheets of acid-free tissue, cameras, and so on. It’s strange to be in the gallery with the full lights on overhead, instead of the artfully lit exhibits on street style. One end of the gallery starts with ’60s subcultures through New York hip hop in the ’70s and ’80s, through the rise of punk through the ‘70s, the later club kids and the ravers, all the way through the modern day at the far end. It’s been a very popular show, and ticket sales were great, according to Sylvie. A smaller version of the show will go on as a touring exhibition.
