Themewho craves human touch.
Themewho can’t stop laughing, whose mind is in constant savasana.
Will kisses me again—in broad daylight, two hunks of metal separating our lower halves. He braces one hand on top of the bike rack and uses his other to cup the back of my neck. He draws me in, tasting like sunlight. My heart beats fast. I settle my hands on his shoulders, tilting my head so I can kiss him back.
Time disintegrates.
It feels like fate.
Likefatemade his bike hit my car. Likefategave us jobs that would pull us into each other’s orbit again ten years later.
“Is your body getting used to it yet?” he asks, breath heavy when he pulls away.
“No.” I take a step back from him, eyes blinking. “My body is reacting more uncontrollably every time.”
“Well.” He shrugs, halfway grinning. “Makes two of us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
We piddle around la Sagrada Família, the Cathedral of Barcelona, and another basilica whose name I instantly forget before winding up at Parc Güell, surrounded by mosaic-tiled walls and stunning views of the city below. It’s the kind of tourist attraction that truly warrants a visit—allof Barcelona has been that way, in fact—and with the sun bouncing in fragments across the thousands of colored slabs around us, ten different languages being spoken in the vicinity, and a tantalizing smell wafting in our direction from somewhere beyond the park gates, I can’t think of a single other way I’d rather spend my twenty-eighth birthday.
“You were right,” I say to Will softly.
“Hmm?” He pushes his sweat-dampened hair off his forehead and pulls an elbow up onto the park bench behind us.
“I’ve missed out on a lot, holing up in my hotel rooms all this time.”
He passes over the water bottle. “You had a lot to juggle.”
“In my defense, I did oncetryto get out and about in New York City.”
Will’s head turns in my direction. “Yeah?”
“During a VC pitch visit. The firm invited me out for dinner and drinks.”
Will groans, laughing. “Oh no. VC guys are mostly douchebags.”
“I wanted their money, so I agreed. But, like, the vibe of that entire night pretty much cemented my hatred for New York.”
His body freezes. When Will speaks, his tone comes out like a scolding. “I’m sorry. Did you just sayyou hate New York?”
“I know you’ve lived there for a while—”
“Nearly ten years.” He turns his upper body to face me, a look of desperation etched into his features. “Four years in college, six years after. I’ve lived there for longer than a while.”
“Right, so I know youlikeit—”
“Likeit?” Will scoffs. “New York isinme.”
I bristle. I wasn’t expecting this reaction since he keeps flirting with the idea of leaving.
“Well, it’s not inme,” I say. “It’s crowded and smelly and loud and expensive and everyone’s either a VC douchebag or an art bro with a superiority complex.”
“That is wholly unfair.”
“I just don’t like it!” I say. “I’ve never liked it, not a single time I’ve gone for work.”
Will continues to look at me, a dumbfounded expression on his face. He stands up and starts pacing. Back and forth, right in front of me. I watch him with a half-concerned, half-amused expression.
