Page 62 of Handle with Care
“Are you seeing other people?” Will asks hesitantly.
“Well…” I redden slightly. “I was. But you know, I kept measuring up my dates to you, to be honest. And they don’t compare. So, I’m not seeing anyone else right now. To be honest, you’re all I think about.”
Then it’s his turn to lean in and kiss me till blood rushes in my ears. “You don’t know how much that means to me. I would love to do this again. You’re so intriguing to me. And funny. And hot.”
“Shh, it’ll go to my head.” I grin at him. “Then, I’ll be even more annoying.”
He squeezes me with his arm. “You’re perfect to me.”
“You’re perfect to me too.”
And if he wasn’t holding on to me, I’m sure I would float away. The best night ever, in the chaos of this London club. We’re washed in pink light, and the music thumps on, but it’s no comparison to what my heart’s doing.
And it’s much later when we’re back in Will’s bed, tangled in the sheets together. Everything really is perfect right now. And I want to live in this moment forever, as the sun rises over us.
We sleep in late and linger over breakfast. When he’s in the shower, I take stock of my new surroundings. Everything is neat and orderly in Will’s flat, verging on the minimal, but definitely bright and airy. Except there’s an overflowing bookcase in nearly every room. A side table has a few framed photographs of Will with his family. I zero in on Will, at different ages. Some with his brother, Gray, and his parents. They all look happy together, especially when Will was younger. The two more recent family portraits have Will looking solemn in them.
Then, there’re a couple with Will in football jerseys, one making some athletic kick in the air with the ball destined for the net. There’s another where he’s shaking hands with someone, holding a paper. Some people wear sports jerseys, other suits. Curious, I lean in to try to figure out what’s what. It doesn’t quite look like university graduation, especially since there’s another one where he’s in a gown in front of a picturesque Cambridge college with his parents and brother, which clearly is his grad.
I pick up the photo where he holds the paper, trying to suss it out.
“That’s signing my contract.”
“Oh Jesus.” I jump, having not heard him approach, and whirl. “Shit. I’m sorry. Caught red-handed, snooping.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He shakes his head, his hair wet and a towel around his shoulders, his admirable chest gloriously exposed. He wears cotton pajama pants. “I’m not.”
“Makes sense. Who or what were you signing with?”
“My new football club, when I was eighteen. In the end, Chelsea won out.”
“Like… Chelsea? As in…”
“Yeah.” He looks wry. “That was before.” Gently, he takes the photo from me and sets it down in its place amid the other photos. “And this is after.”
I go to him, catching his face in my hands to give him a deep, thorough kiss, till he shudders. Eventually, we straighten. His expression is hard to read. He’s breathless too, slightly dazed, but also a little guarded.
Will clears his throat. “Before you say anything, I’ve had some time to get used to my new reality. Elite sport was out for me. And I had to find a new direction. I guess I’m still trying to find it, now that I’m down a leg.”
I skim my hands down over his biceps, catching him before he turns away. “Hey. I’m not judging. The opposite. I’m in awe of you. Because you’re incredible, Will.”
He looks less certain about that, but I’m confident. “And you’ve got two legs. One’s just not factory issue.”
Then he laughs, shaking his head at me, and the moment eases.
“Did you ever think about doing adaptive sports?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I wasn’t up for it. Physically, of course, not for a while. Mentally, most of all. But I also acknowledge sometimes I’m my own worst enemy. Maybe I simply have a bad attitude, but it’s too painful to go there. I needed to do something else.”
“Economics?”
“Economics, yes. And museums.” He gives me a half smile. “And if it wasn’t for museums, I wouldn’t have met you or have you here right now in my flat.”
“I’m so happy to be here with you.” I slide my arms around his waist, and his kiss is heaven, with just the right amount of spice. “Mm.”
He grasps my ass. “And all of the dancing explains this.”
I laugh. “That’s one way to look at things. Or my ass, especially.”
