He straightened, apologies slipping from his mouth. I shushed him and used the back of my sleeve to dry his face.
“I’m not usually like this.” He cleared his throat.
It was as though I could see the mask being pulled over. The one he used when he thought he was being too much. I leaned my forehead against his. “You can be however you want, whenever you want. I’m here. And if you want to pack this up, I’ll help you. If youwant to play it, I’ll beat you.”
“It’s not a competitive game.” A laugh huffed out of him, and he shook his head. “You are so perfect.”
My heart fluttered pathetically. This man could say anything to me, and it would flutter. But he wasn’t just any man saying anything. He was Lincoln, the kindest, smartest, most handsome man in the world.
“Hey, Lily,” he said, handing me the controller, “I’d like to finish it. With you.”
“And as I’ve proven time and time again, my answer to you is alwaysyes.”
The last bit of the game didn’t take too long, but with every step, with every arc of his virtual sword, Lincoln unfurled. His shoulders dropped, his smile returned, and there was a lightness surrounding him that wasn’t there before.
At some point, we paused and opened the chips he’d brought along. The controllers became a little greasy, and our laughter grew more frequent.
And this went on and on, until the game credits rolled. Which was when he gave me one long look. A look that struck my heart. Held it. Fixed it. A look so soft that I was glad he didn’t say anything because no words would match the amount of value he’d given me with that one look.
Slowly, he packed up the console.
“Are you keeping it?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nah. Donating it, along with the games and most of the books. Maybe some other kid can play on it with their dad or find their Player Two.” He lifted my hand and kissed my fingertips. “I’ve been lucky enough to find mine. Twice.”
At some point during the night, which was slowly edging into morning, Lincoln and I moved boxes of books to his truck.
I took a moment to explore what had been his childhood home. It was so much smaller than the house where I’d met his mother. But this place was lived in and worn down with memories that were scratched into every surface. Sometimes, literally so.
I moved my laptop, still open, even though I hadn’t done a single application. The desk and chair needed to go next. I flopped onto the couch while he moved the last of the boxes.
Lincoln’s hand dropped to his stomach. “I’m starving.”
“Me too.”
He whipped out his phone. “There’s a twenty-four-hour pizzeria, and while the Google reviews average at 2.7, it is the only place that’s still open.”
“What’s a little food poisoning between lovers?”
He chuckled. “Favorite pizza?”
“Anything with cheese.”
“Girl of my dreams,” he replied, sitting beside me, bumping my mouse.
My laptop screen woke up, opening my inbox. There were two unread emails. Both from Mr. Anders.
The first email told me what I already knew. Cedric and Peter were the top two interns this year, and I followed closely behind.
The next email was also about the internship.
[UPDATED] INTERN POSITIONS
I glanced at Lincoln as I opened it. Cedric was still number one, but number two had changed. Number two was no longer Peter. Now it readElizabeth Gordon-Bettencourt.
At the bottom stood a single line:Peter has taken a job in the United Kingdom. We wish him all the best.
My mouth dropped open. “Does this mean?”
