I don’t answer immediately, breathing in his scent from our closeness. The tension feels so thick between us, and I don’teven know why there’s tension in the first place. Or why he’s so close. His big body is pressed against mine, and despite knowing better, I like the feeling.
“Here you guys go,” an employee says behind us, and I snap myself out of whatever trance that was. I turn to grab the food and walk over to the drink counter to grab some hot sauce.
“This was the best idea I’ve ever had,” I compliment myself with a laugh, hoping Will isn’t still looking for an answer.
“It was a good one. Let’s go to your house to eat, birthday boy,” Will suggests lightly, so maybe I was the only one imaging that tension in the first place. He picks the bag up from the counter and walks toward the door where he waits, holding it open for me.
“It’s right down the alley behind the car wash,” I tell him, excited to be in my house for the night. It’s not even a minute before we’re inside, and I leave Will with the food momentarily while I go to the bathroom and change into sweatpants because there’s no reason to impress him. But I keep his giant hoodie on for now.
When I get back into the kitchen, Will’s opening the cabinets.
“Need something?” I ask.
“I was trying to find the cups to get us water.”
I start to move toward him to get them myself, but he stops me. “Sit down and eat, birthday boy. Just tell me which cabinet.”
“One to the right.” I point. I’m not going to argue if he wants to take care of me. No one has ever put in this much effort to do so. Normally, it feels like I’m the one doing everything for everyone, and it’s out of necessity, not joy, like Will claims he feels. So I leave him to it and open the wrapper to bite into the deliciousness that is Taco Bell when drunk.
Will sets a full cup of water in front of me, then sits beside me, setting his glass in front of him. He starts eating too, and after I finish my first taco, I turn to him.
“You ever notice how Taco Bell tastes so much better when you’re a little drunk?”
“I think everything tastes better when you’re drunk.” He laughs, and I groan when I take the first bite of the next taco.
“I needed this,” I say, crumpling my wrapper. “You’re officially invited to all my future birthdays.”
“Count me in,” Will agrees easily with a smile.
Once I finish, I toss the empty bag in the trash and wash my hands, then lean back against the counter, wondering what his next move will be. He follows my lead, crumpling his trash and doing the same.
“Well, I should probably head home. But I’ll text you in the morning? Let me know how you’re surviving the hangover, and maybe I can bring you coffee.”
“Sure.” I nod, hating the sinking feeling that immediately creeps into my gut knowing that I’ll end my birthday night all alone. But it was inevitable when I left the bar with him and not the guy I was dancing with. “I’m always down for coffee.”
He smiles at me before he turns to walk to the front door. When his hand is on the knob, he turns back to me once again. “Goodnight, Porter.” Then he opens and shuts it behind him.
I press my forehead to the door he just walked out of and groan softly as I lock it.
Whenever I spend time with Will, I’m reminded that he’s not at all what I expected, and I hate that he’s made me realize I was all wrong about him. It makes me feel like the true jerk when I was the one holding grudges. “Ugh,” I groan into the empty house, then peel myself off the door and walk to my bedroom. I change into my sleepwear and realize I’m still wearing his hoodie. He didn’t even ask for it back, and it’s freezing out there.
Oh well, it’s mine now. At least until he asks for it back.
We’ll see if he actually texts.
10
WILL
Last night definitely didn’t end like I thought it would, but it was fun. Porter challenges me in ways that none of my other friends do. The playful back-and-forth honestly almost felt like flirting, even if that’s not what we were doing.
I felt a little weird about leaving him all alone last night after insisting he leave the bar with me even though he didn’t seem sick or anything. I helped him get home safely with food and water, it should have been enough, but I think I still feel guilty about ruining his bike because nothing ever feels like I’m doing enough for him. The coffee comment last night was a perfect excuse for me to check on him this morning for his actual birthday though.
Will
Hey birthday boy, you alive?
I pull up the internet and search for the best coffee shops around. My usual place is fine, but I only go there because it’s the closest to my apartment. Maybe there’s a better option for Porter since he seemed so offended by my “caffeine is caffeine”comment when we met at his work. I feel like we made great progress last night, and I don’t want to ruin that by accidentally bringing him crappy coffee.
