Page 65 of Handle with Care
“The invisible kind, at least this week.”
He laughs. “Fair. But it’s been cool getting to know you this summer. I’ll be sorry to see you go.” Russ tilts his head, appraising me. “So, time to tell all. What’s going on?”
“Well.” I make an expansive gesture with my hands, struggling to think where to begin. “We agreed on one date to get it out of our systems. This chemistry we have. Except that really seemed to ignite something. Even though right after the date, he put a stop to it. Because… I think he’s trying to prevent feeling too much, for when I go. That’s what he said.”
“It’s getting serious. What about your no-boyfriend pact?”
“He’s not my boyfriend. We haven’t had that talk. We’re dating. Casually.”
Russ gives me a knowing look. “If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck…”
“And who, exactly, is the duck in this scenario?” I peer curiously at him. “Also, I expect a lavish pond with a waterfront nest.”
He grins. “You tell me, Dylan. This is all you. Your pond. Your mallard. Your beautiful plumage.”
“Shit. You think I have an unofficial boyfriend? And also, that I’m a duck?”
“Absolutely, yes. Plus, you make an excellent duck. What does Will think?”
“Well… I think he’s trying hard not to think this week, anyway. And practicing being in the moment. Which isn’t his usual thing. Instead, from what I can tell, he tries to guard himself from getting hurt.”
“Spoiler: you’re both in deep. You left on Friday night, and you’ve only been back once to get some clothes for a couple of hours on Sunday night and going back again. And now, it’s Wednesday. That’s a whopper of a third date, I hate to tell you. Definite boyfriend territory. At least boyfriend-adjacent. I mean, how do you feel about him?”
“I feel…” A warmth rises deep in my chest, something joyful and special and mine when I think of Will. Something I haven’t felt in a very long time. A shiver runs down my spine. “I want him. Like, a lot. But having a boyfriend’s impossible.”
“It’s getting serious,” he diagnoses without hesitation. “What’s your plan at the end of the summer when you leave?”
“We haven’t talked about it.”
“You truly haven’t? In all that time together?” He looks impressed.
“We’re, uhhh, busy?” I try innocently to Russ’s laughter. “But I suppose we should talk about it, you’re right. Though at work today, it sounds like we have no choice but to see each other less. That’s got be for the best, right? Because we’re deinstalling the current show now and putting in the new one over about ten days. It’s gonna be long days and irregular hours, sometimes working apart. That’s going to put a natural damper on things. And then I go back to Vancouver. Which is another planet away. End of story.”
“I guess you don’t know how he feels about you. Or your situation.”
“Not technically. I mean, I know he’s into me as much as I’m into him. But… it’s hard to hook up from Vancouver. When my life is back there and his is here. My plan is to enjoy the next couple of weeks and put my head in the sand otherwise. Just have some fun.”
Russ looks like he knows better. He sips his drink. “Some people do long distance, you know.”
“I don’t know if that works for me, to be honest. I mean, I’ve always kept things casual for years with the guys I’ve dated. And hooked up with. Sure, I’ve seen some of them more than once or twice, but nothing too serious. Not since I was sixteen. Which is how I like it. It’s safer like that. Nobody gets hurt. Easy. Done.”
Russ looks like he knows better, but he doesn’t say anything. He takes another drink instead.
And maybe I’m being more flippant than I actually feel, because the way I feel about Will cuts deeper than is comfortable. And being close to people means it hurts when you lose them. Like I lost my mom and my grandma. So, it’s better not to get attached. Especially when I’m only here for a short time. It’s the only practical approach. Then I can remember my fun London summer as a great time, getting my start in the museum world, and having a fun fling while I was there.
Even if I’ve stopped seeing other people or setting up dates with anyone other than Will. Even if I’m already aching at the idea of things ending in a couple of weeks’ time and no longer having him in my life.
“Maybe I need to plan a proper holiday for the last week of August,” I say aloud. “Something else to focus on? I’ll get out of London, maybe see the UK or something, right? I mean, how often am I here?”
“If that’s what you want.”
Deep down, I know all I really want is more time with Will, lost in his arms together. Or caught up in the simple pleasure of making tea in his kitchen and bringing it to him in bed so we can lie together a little longer before the day begins. Or listening to Will open up about his past and learning more about him, about what he wants, and what he dreams of. I want the feel of his skin hot on mine. And I want to hold him when he comes, wild with lust and our urgency, or lingering and exploring each other like we have all the time together in the world.
Even though we don’t.
Somehow, we’re going to need to talk about what comes next. Which is going to be tricky around our new schedules that don’t align well.
Then my phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I check the text later, it’s Will.
