Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
The day after that, we’re very quiet, tiptoeing around each other, and achingly polite in the rare moments we actually talk. I’m also tired after another late night out on a date and probably a pint too many.
Will’s head is down yet again for much of the day on the doorstopper of a textbook, and by the afternoon, he’s alternately peering at his laptop and jotting notes in a pristine leather folio.
Meanwhile, I’m cross-legged in my boardroom chair, shoes off.
The chairs might be ultra stylish, but they’re not comfortable for all-day seating.
If Will’s uncomfortable, he gives no sign, all poise and elegance as he works.
The sunbeams slant through the window in the afternoon sun, heating up the room.
I gaze out at the enviable view over the river and the north bank of the Thames.
The sun’s a mirror off the water, the buildings hazy.
I’m in a short-sleeve shirt and chinos today.
Will’s rolled up the sleeves of another perfectly white shirt, revealing toned forearms, as I suspected, lean muscles over slender bones.
I must have gone from looking out the window to looking at him because he lifts his head from his study of his laptop and meets my gaze evenly.
I look back long enough to prove I was deliberately looking at him and not only admiring the other view.
Say something, I mentally kick myself. Something non-offensive for once.
“I want to apologize.”
Did I just say that?
It’s hard to say which one of us is more startled. Will looks uncertainly at me, a brief struggle written across his face before he smooths his expression to neutral. “I see.”
“I… went too far yesterday. I did make some assumptions about you. And you’re right.
I don’t know the first thing about you or your life.
And I’m sorry about that.” With a deep breath for courage, I meet his gaze again.
In this bright room, his eyes are a silvery blue again.
His expression softens ever so slightly.
Or it could be wishful thinking that he’s not planning on disemboweling me.
Will’s shoulders relax. He sits back and runs a hand through his hair. “Thanks. I accept your apology.”
I search his eyes and offer a tentative smile.
“I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did,” Will offers a couple of moments later. “I should have kept my cool. And, of course, you want the permanent job here at the end of this internship too. It makes sense you would, with your degree. And experience.”
Ever so slowly, I let out the breath I’ve been holding. “Thanks.”
We consider each other, neither one of us sure what to say next.
“Truce?” I try at last. “For the sake of our internships?”
“For the sake of our internships,” he echoes, nodding.
“Whatever happens after that isn’t up to us, right?” Relieved he’s agreeable, I sit back in my chair too, shifting slightly as I cross my legs the other way. “And, er, I’ve brought another book for you today.”
Will looks surprised again. And honestly, a little daunted. Which makes sense since the first book I gave him has to be at least six hundred pages, and he seems to be determined to read every last page, God help him.
“Don’t worry, it’s shorter,” I blurt. I reach over for my messenger bag and retrieve the book.
I wasn’t sure that I’d loan it to him after yesterday.
A moment later, I’ve gotten up to pass over The Exhibition Design Handbook.
Thankfully, it’s a slimmer volume. Svelte, even.
“This one shouldn’t take nearly as long to read.
By the way, you don’t have to read every page, you know. There’re chapter summaries.”
“I want to,” Will says immediately, a bit too quickly.
“’Kay. If you’re sure. I mean, that first one is hardly a page-turner.”
While he browses the book, I study him again. Yeah, he’s still attractive, despite being kind of annoying, or a lot annoying.
Just consider it a side bonus to the internship, Dylan. That’s only some eye candy for you because, well, McLaren and the girlfriend you saw the other night. But you can try to be reasonable to him.
He glances up then and gives me a smile, and I realize I haven’t ever seen him smile at me before.
And… it’s glorious? His face softens, and it’s a genuine, warm smile.
Meant for me, no less. It’s overwhelming to have his attention like that, and I quickly busy myself with my bag. “Thanks. This is great.”
“You’re welcome.” And I’m smiling, even so.
When I dare look up again, he glances at his watch, and I check my phone. The long shadows in the room should have been the first giveaway that the end of the day had crept up on us. “Time to wrap up.”
“Yeah, looks like.” I glance down at his work area.
Everything’s very orderly. His laptop’s perfectly aligned to the edge of the table, along with his leather folio.
I notice then he has written tidy lists, neatly color coded in coordinated pastel highlighter shades.
“How’s it going anyway? Getting to know the exhibits we still need? ”
He nods. “Yes. Although the spreadsheet Lily gave us is very useful for exhibits planning, I don’t think it’s the most practical way for us to approach collecting exhibits efficiently.
Instead of sorting by exhibition section, what we need to know is where everything is right now.
So, I’ve started lists to get a sense. I’ve put together exhibits by location, which correlates with the lender too.
Central London, South London, North London.
I’ve noted exhibits that are in Greater London and the ones further beyond.
And then I’ve highlighted the ones that are ready for pickup and left the others unmarked that still need more logistics worked out or to be ordered.
I probably should have written this straight onto a spreadsheet, actually. ”
Will flushes slightly then, to my surprise. He glances at me. “Sorry, this is probably a bit mad, isn’t it?”
I blink. “Not at all. It’s really organized.
And logical.” I don’t want to admit the idea of organizing exhibits by current location hadn’t occurred to me, but there we are.
Maybe he does have some good takes after all.
But I don’t want to quite admit that yet.
Our peace is too new, and we’re still rivals, after all.
Even if we’re friendly-ish rivals today.
His smile is fleeting, and he looks away, back to his computer. “Well, tomorrow.”
“Right, tomorrow.” I can’t help a smile too, then turn and go back to my work area, neatening things up like how he is doing.
Except his workspace is already meticulous, and mine looks more…
let’s say lived-in. I glance up at him as he picks up his leather folio, zipped up and tucked under his arm.
Along with the growing library I’ve given him.
“Any plans tonight? Aside from reading, it looks like. I mean, nobody’s going to take the books from here when we’re gone.
And you’ve been looking at them all day. ”
I’m not sure why I ask the question about his evening, aside from curiosity getting the better of me. Will looks startled. “I wouldn’t expect you to be interested in my plans.”
“I’m invested,” I assure him, then add quickly to that in case he thought I was being too personal. He gives the impression of having equally pristine and sharp boundaries. Well-manicured. “I mean, I’m totally invested in your learning about museums. You simply don’t want to overdo it or anything.”
It’s hard to read his expression as Will starts toward the door. “I won’t.”
“That’s a relief.” I look amused as I sling my messenger bag over my shoulder. I take my empty tea mug for the dishwasher downstairs. “I’m going to meet my housemates and catch a movie. Not sure if we’re staying in or going out.”
Will pauses by the door. “Which film?”
“I’m not sure yet about that either. I told them to surprise me.”
“That’s bold of you.”
“It’s how I roll,” I say easily as we head out.
At the bottom of the stairs, Will pauses and glances at me. It’s impressive how he still looks perfectly groomed after a warm day, especially in the sun trap of the boardroom. “I’m meeting a friend tonight, for the record.”
I chuckle. “Don’t feel like you owe me an explanation. Also, it’s nice to know you have friends.”
He frowns at me. “Dylan—”
“I couldn’t resist. I’m sorry.” But part of me wonders if friend really means his girlfriend or an aspirational girlfriend. At least I have the good sense to stop myself before I ask that question. That’s definitely over the pristine boundary line.
Will considers me, and then his shoulders ease. “Right. Haha.”
I give him a reassuring smile. “Not everyone gets my sense of humor. Also, it might not translate to the English. I’m finding out very quickly that humor is cultural, even if we’re both technically speaking the same language.
And don’t get me started on pop culture references.
’Kay. Sorry. I’ll stop talking at you and let you go. Night.”
“Good night.”
And finally, we both head our separate ways. As I head down the pavement with the steady stream of commuters headed towards the station, I can’t help but wonder what a typical evening in Will’s life looks like.
Stop being nosy.
Yet I’m still thinking about Will and his plans by the time I reach the rail station for home.