Chapter Twelve
Will is… hot? How distressing.
Ruby
“Light up hearts! On a string like Christmas lights!”
“Next.”
“Streamers! Pink and red and orange!”
“Next.”
“A blow-up anatomical heart with a sign that says ‘I HEART U’!”
“Elodie, be so real right now.”
My sweet, holiday-loving best friend groans. “Rubes, you can’t even see the door. Why does it matter if it looks like the greeting card aisle threw up on it?”
I huff, but don’t answer.
It matters because it matters , obviously. And she should know that.
“Fiiine,” she gripes. “If you don’t like anything pink or red or orange or even purple , then what color do you like?”
Easy.
“Sky blue.”
“Oh,” she says. Duh . “Um… okay. Let me look!”
Her voice fades as she goes off on her new mission, excitement over the project restored.
I sigh and find a shelf to lean on.
Shopping sucks.
There’s so much noise, and nobody watches where they’re going, and people say stupid things like–
“What are you, blind? Get out of my way!”
Yeah. Like that.
My head swivels toward the deep, irate voice just as I’m bumped – hard – by a cart. My eyes narrow.
“You’re in the way!”
I open my mouth to let them know, in no uncertain terms, exactly what I think of their behavior, but am beat to it by Will’s voice lashing out from my opposite side.
“What the-” he curses, and my eyebrows shoot up high on my forehead.
Will is here? And he’s cussing ?
I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say anything harsher than a “good golly.” Even during game nights he stays calm, cool, and collected – and our game nights get pretty intense. Roman once went on an hour-long tirade, curses included, over a particularly competitive round of Scrabble, while Will’s commentary was more along the lines of “aw, shucks.”
He doesn’t cuss. He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t get angry.
Except, I guess, right now, when he does all three.
I stand stock still while he rips into my cart-happy assailant, using words I didn’t even think he knew .
“-er, and, actually, yes , she is blind – as evidenced by her cane .”
I squeeze said cane. My stomach is a tangle of knots and fluttering creatures, begging me to close the gap separating us from Will. I listen to them, inching closer until his arm wraps around my waist, dragging me the rest of the way to him and only stopping when I’m firmly pressed against his side.
“Well- I- I didn’t think-”
“Next time, do,” Will snaps.
“I’m so sorry,” they respond, sounding more terrified than apologetic.
“You’re telling that to the wrong person,” Will grumbles. Actually grumbles .
My stomach riots.
“I’m sorry, miss. It won’t happen again.”
I wonder what Will would do if I deemed that apology unsatisfactory. Would he grumble some more?
Would he growl?
I hastily nod my forgiveness, positive I would not survive a Will growl. I’m barely handling the grumbles and the cursing and the touch-her-and-die of it all. Elodie’s going to lose her mind when I tell her about this.
Will turns me until I’m plastered to the front of him. Cedar fills my nose – clean and fresh. He smells like the snow outside and his body wash. Comfortable and familiar. Nostalgic.
Safe.
“Are you okay?” he asks as his hand moves down my back to my hip to caress the spot where the cart hit me. “Does it hurt?”
I blink. Swallow.
“I’m okay,” I mutter, finding my voice. “Thank you for… that.”
He doesn’t respond, but I feel his face nuzzle into my hair, and maybe that’s response enough.
“I found blu- oh! Hey, Will!”
I stiffen at Elodie’s voice, embarrassingly aware of just how relaxed I had gotten in Will’s embrace.
Clearing my throat, I pull away.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I ask him, stepping back to create some distance, much to my stomach’s protest. Silly thing would like me to attach myself to him. Someone ought to remind her that this is Will .
Grumbly Will, she protests.
I take another step back.
“I need stuff for my door,” he replies, a trace of grumble still coating his voice.
I clear my throat again. Maybe just one more step away.
“Ah,” I respond. “Well. There’s, um, lots of that here.” I gesture to the Valentine decorations surrounding us, and my hand whacks into something that bounces away and then back, catching my fingers in a pinch. I wince, dropping my hands.
“Spring-loaded headband,” Will states. “Cute. Pink. Lots of hearts and glitter.”
I nod. Right. Spring-loaded headband. I totally know what that is.
“Elodie,” I squeak, suddenly wishing I was anywhere but right here, with Will, listening to the grumble change his tone from normal, annoying, irritating Will to… something else. Something else entirely. “You found what we need?”
“Uh-huh,” she answers, sounding not at all willing to interrupt. “Some blue stuff, like you wanted.”
“Perfect!” I proclaim. “We’re good to go then! Bye, Will!”
I pivot, hope I’m facing the direction of the exit, and march.
“Not so fast!” Elodie laughs, hooking her arm in mine and foiling my escape.
I scowl at her.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. “This is not girl code acceptable!”
“Thank me later,” she whispers, then, louder, “Will! Do you need help?”
“I would love some help,” he replies, laughing – grumble free, thankfully.
A cart jangles, then Elodie claps her hands. “Let’s get you some decorations, big man!”
“Big man?” I repeat, horrified.
“That’s me,” Will answers. “And I’ve got the shoulders to prove it.”
“Keep your shoulders to yourself,” I warn, holding my cane up. I can’t handle shoulders right now. I am at my capacity of… of… of hotness .
I shudder.
This is a nightmare .