Page 36 of Head Under Water

“On it.” Someone flips on the overhead light again and Will races across the room. There are forty-seven seconds left on the countdown timer. We’re never going to make it.

He steps onto a chair and pulls the clock away from the wall, checking behind it and running his hand along the back. “I don’t…see…” With no luck, he searches the front next. “Wait a second.” He pushes against the glass face, and it pops open.

“Hurry, Will,” I warn him. My heart kicks in my chest.

He moves the smallest hand to the six, then the larger hand around until it hits the three. The second it does, there’s a chime.

A circular panel opens at the twelve. Will sticks his hand in the hole and produces…

“The key!” Pam cries, one proud fist in the air. The ladies cheer as Will jumps down from the chair. He flies across the room, straight toward the exit.

Six seconds left.

His hand fumbles, trying to fit the key into the lock.

Three seconds.

Two seconds.

And then⁠—

He opens the door. The lights flicker. Music plays from the speakers.

We did it. Holy shit, we did it.

The women jump and hug and laugh.

Without thinking, I rush forward. I throw my arms around Will’s neck with a squeal.

He catches me on instinct, stumbling half a step back. His hands land at my waist—firm, automatic—like we’ve been here before. Like he knows exactly where to hold me.

For a second, he just…keeps them there.

Our hips brush together, just slightly, and I feel it everywhere.

My awareness of the room fades—noises, lights, and cheers all disappear until it’s just us. Nothing except where we’re connected—his palms warm against my sides, my ribs expanding under his thumbs, our thighs laced together.

His breath ghosts across my lips.

His eyes move back and forth between mine. Slow. Then fast. Like he’s giving in to something. And maybe…I am too.

His grip pulses on my skin. He draws me closer, just barely, so we’re pressing that much harder against each other. He opens his mouth⁠—

For the tiniest second, the world shrinks even closer around us.

The corners of his eyes soften, a question there.

“You were so scared!” one of the women yells.

Ice slithers down my skin.

I can’t see which one shouted, but it doesn’t matter. The interruption jolts me back to reality.

“I knew those bowling pins weren’t just bowling pins,” Beth says.

Will releases me as if I’ve caught fire, and he’s been burned. His hand snaps to the back of his head.

“Good job,” he says, too casually, turning away from me.