Where We Left Off (Middle of Somewhere 3)

Gretchen’s dress was green fire and her light hair floated out around her. It was like she spun without even moving, the pulse of the music carrying her effortlessly. She seemed strong and centered, and I couldn’t even imagine what it must feel like, so I tried to match my movements to hers. I was a moon caught in the gravitational pull of her planet, and when I looked up and spun and spun the lights sparkling above were the brightest stars I’d seen since leaving Michigan.

Chapter 4

October

“OMIGOD, THIS is the heaviest thing in the history of things.”

“Just keep it level,” Will grunted.

Gee. Thanks for that.

Yesterday I’d woken up feeling totally out of it even though Milton assured me I’d only had three drinks. Basically all I did was eat a shitty dining hall bagel and some vanilla soft-serve and sack out in my room. By the time Will called in the afternoon, I’d fallen asleep in the middle of reading Chaucer for my Great Books class. He’d wanted to know if I could help him move some furniture into his apartment from the storage unit in his basement. I hadn’t even really listened to what it was for, just agreed that I’d meet him there this afternoon.

He’d been normal when I got here. No mention of how we totally made out in a swanky shop last weekend. Not that I’d been expecting one.

As I inched along Will’s endless hallway, some semidetached flap of rubber from the sole of my shoe—I never did get new ones last weekend, since Will was too busy dressing me up and kissing me and not talking about it—nearly tripped me and I caught myself in the doorframe of the apartment before Will’s. I guess I kind of thudded against the door to avoid dropping my side of what was clearly the most epically heavy filing cabinet ever made. As I levered myself away from the door, it opened with a squeak and a forty-something dude who looked like he used to be a football player and now just watched a lot of it on TV while downing pizza and beer poked his head out.

“Did you knock?” His tone was primmer than I expected.

“No, Perkins, he didn’t knock. He just tripped. Back to your regularly scheduled programming.”

The dude—Perkins—just sniffed and looked put out, but he closed his door. We finally got the damn thing into Will’s apartment, but he could barely even tell me where to put it because he was too busy muttering ranty things about Perkins.

“What is your problem?”

“That fucking guy,” Will snarled.

“He said three words.”

“Three asshole words. He’s my nemesis. Screw that guy.”

“Um, kinda… dying.” I indicated the filing cabinet with my chin. My arms were about fifteen seconds from giving out.

We put the filing cabinet in place and lugged a few shelves and a table up from the storage unit too, Will glaring at Perkins’ door each time we passed.

“So, why’s he your nemesis?” I asked as we set up the shelves and what Will said was a drafting table.

“He’s just always around, doing infuriating shit like sticking his head out when I walk past. Or—he straightened my doormat once, the OCD psycho.”

I looked around at Will’s immaculately organized apartment.

“Um. Isn’t that maybe a nice thing to do?”

“No. He’s a busybody. Maybe I wanted my mat like that. Maybe I had it that way for a reason. He didn’t know. He’s just a control freak. You don’t go around rearranging other people’s stuff.”

I couldn’t help but smile because he sounded like a pissed-off kid and it was adorable, and when I did Will rolled his eyes and stalked off to the kitchen. He handed me a beer and popped the top off his own.

“Thanks for helping. You’re a pal.” He clinked his bottle to mine and flopped down on the couch, drinking deeply. I couldn’t look away from the movement of his throat as he swallowed. The gold of his weekend stubble faded into the creamy skin of his neck. His lips wrapped around the neck of the bottle.

He drained it, looking at me, and I started to get hard just watching him as he watched me.

“You’re—you—gah,” I mumbled, my cheeks going hot as Will’s gaze traveled down to my crotch and he smirked, but still said nothing. In an attempt to distract myself, I opened my beer, licking quickly at the fizz so it didn’t get on the couch, but grimaced at the sour taste. Okay, I guess I now knew I didn’t really like beer.

At my expression, Will’s smirk turned to a genuine smile, and he held out his hand to me, shaking his head affectionately. My heart beat faster as I slid my hand into his. He held on for a second, thumb caressing the tender skin on the inside of my wrist.