Will trails me away from the party. I sit down at my desk and pull up a fresh browser on my computer screen. “We’ll be flying Delta, first class.”
“Great.”
Instead of sitting, he walks to my side of the desk. Then he givesme the dates for each leg of the trip, and I select them on the airline website. We’re starting in Peru, then heading to Spain, and ending the trip in India.
We bicker over flight times. Will says he isn’t a morning person, but I’ve flown enough to know the earliest flight of the day has the highest on-time rate. Eventually, we compromise and even manage to agree on seat assignments.
He isn’t crowding me, and yet I canfeelWill’s body towering over mine. If I tilted my chin up, I’d see the underside of his. With herculean strength, I keep my eyes forward, clicking through the screens until we’ve secured two first-class tickets to three continents in July, bought and paid for on my corporate card.
“Done,” I say.
Will steps away from me, tamely making his way to the other side of the desk. I notice a tiny smirk on his face.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. I just knew you’d be a Delta flyer.”
My shoulders shrug. “I like luxury options occasionally.”
Will nods. “I figured that out, too. You’re funny about it, though.”
“How so?”
“You drive a 2014 Ford Escape you don’t care about leaving a ding in, but I’ve seen you wipe an invisible smudge off your high heels.” Will nods to my LV bag hanging off a wall rack. “Every single time I’ve been around you, you’re carrying a different purse, but I’ve seen your house, and it’s ramshackle. In an endearing way,” he clarifies. “It’s just funny, that’s all. You’re funny to me.”
“I’m just… me,” I say. “And besides, I’m not usually hosting dinner parties, or picking up strangers off the side of the road in my 2014 Ford Escape.”
“Better not be,” Will warns jokingly.
“Even if they look like a reformed finance bro?”
“Well.” He pretends to consider. “Actually, no, not even then.”
The air between us grows tight. Again, I notice the way my biorhythms change for him.
“So what was the reason?” I ask.
He looks amused by my change in topic. “The reason I didn’t kiss you even though I wanted to?”
“Yep.”
He watches me. “Neither of us was sober, that was the reason.”
I balk. “That’s the only reason? If we hadn’t been drinking, you’d have kissed me?”
Instead of answering he asks, “Not good enough for you?”
“Not really.”
“What areyourreasons?” he asks.
I rattle them off: “Distance. Lack of free time. The possibility that I could lose my focus when this is a critical time for Revenant’s long-term success.” Idon’tmention my insecurity over my yearslong lapse of sexual drive.
“Those are all perfectly legitimate,” Will acknowledges.
“But if I hadn’t told you we can’t become a distraction for each other, you would have—what? Tried to kiss me again?”
“Probably.” Will’s eyes flick to my lips. “Definitely.”
