24. Alice
24
Alice
I ’m tired and delirious. I’m happy. We step into the hotel elevator, and I sigh contentedly. “That was fun. Like really fun. I never knew a team could score one point—the other, nothing—and it could be so entertaining.”
Will beams. “I knew you’d like it. I knew I’d convert you.”
Laughing, I shake my head. I can’t argue. I don’t even want to. I stayed awake for an entire ninety-minute soccer game and truly enjoyed it.
Being with Will is fun.
“I’m ready for my bed, though,” I say.
“I’m ready to get out of these pants. I’m worried they’ve molded to my legs. What in the world are these things made of?”
“They were expensive, so something rare and awful.”
“Exactly.” He peers down past his flowy tangerine shirt to the lime-green stretchy pants I still can’t believe he purchased. “Well, these expensive pants are officially retiring after tonight.”
“Oh, don’t throw them out. Billy paid good money for those pants. And I’m guessing Theo would love them next time we’re all up for a bonus.”
Will snickers, and I wonder if, like me, he’s imagining Theo wearing these to work with the hope that Billy sees him in the gifted pants.
The door to the elevator opens, and I’m struck with the ending of the day—of this night. It’s been a good day—the best day—despite Mom’s phone call. Despite her demanding that my boss mail her a new skirt.
“Wait,” I say, reaching out and snatching onto Will’s arm. “I need a photo. Zoe must see what you’re willing to do.”
“Yeah—I don’t think so. All evidence of these pants will be burned after today.”
“Will,” I whine, shaking his arm in my hold—the man has strong forearms. Ones I am pretending not to notice. “Please? For the sake of this great day. The day I watched a full soccer game and chanted Olé! Olé! Olé! And”—I fix my gaze on him—“ loved it. We have to commemorate it.”
“By taking a photo of me in these pants? Didn’t you pick a blossom from a tree to press in your book?” he says as the elevator door closes on us—we never made it out. “Or what about that Rapids hat Billy bought you? Can’t that commemorate the day?”
I press my palms together, ready to beg. “Just one little picture.” I pull the Rapids baseball cap that I will never wear from my bag and smash it onto my head.
Will reaches over and hits the number four once more, but our elevator is already on the move again.
“Hurry before it opens up again,” I say, knowing I won’t have a shot at a picture if we have an audience.
Will sighs, and it’s all the confirmation I need. I sidle up next to him and hold my phone out. Will wraps one arm around me, and I’m immediately struck by his scent. I press myself into the crook of his arm—for the photo’s sake—and angle the phone high and down so Will’s pants are in view. They are the star of this photo, after all.
After two clicks, our elevator door opens once more to the third floor. Will is out the door, past the people coming in, and down the hall, though our rooms are one floor up.
“Hey,” I say, escaping the elevator before it closes on me again.
Will has paused in front of a hotel door. It’s decorated with a pink and orange balloon arch—right here, in the middle of the hall. The rest of the floor is as plain as any other, but this door—it’s ready for a party.
Will stands straight and tall—in lime pants and his tangerine shirt—right at the center of that arch. His back faces me, and I can’t help it, I take another photo—this time, of just him. It’s too perfect.
Will turns around at the click of my phone. “Are you taking more pictures of me?”
“No. Maybe. Just one.”
He lifts one brow, then turns back to the balloon arch. “What do you think this is about?”
“Birthday? Anniversary? I don’t know.”
He tilts his head, still looking at the door. And then—he knocks.
“Will!” I hiss.
“I just want to see who’s celebrating.”
I snatch a hold of his hand and yank as if to pull him away. We’ll make our great escape. But Will won’t be going anywhere.
A barefoot woman in pink plaid pajamas answers the door. She looks from me to Will.
“We’re with the hotel. Is someone here celebrating?” Will asks.
I bite my cheek—because we are absolutely not with the hotel. Not even close, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to say so.
The woman looks Will over, from his tangerine shirt to his lime-green pants. “You’re with the hotel?” See? She doesn’t believe him either.
“Yeah—I have a delivery for the… honoree.”
No, he doesn’t. We have nothing. Literally nothing but my Rapids hat—and I kind of wanted to keep that.
“Mom,” the woman turns and calls back into the room. “I think there’s a delivery for you.” Facing us once more, her eyes rove from Will to me.
I swallow. “I don’t work here,” I whisper. “I’m just with him.”
Will’s hand at his side blindly reaches for my own. He entwines his fingers with mine, silently telling me to shush .
“It’s Mom’s eightieth birthday,” the woman says, a sweet smile on her lips, though her eyes are still skeptical. Can you blame her? Will looks like an artistic representation of a lime and a tangerine out on a date. “Who did you say the delivery was from?”
“Oh, anonymous,” Will lies. His tone is light, airy, and completely believable. How does he do that?
He reaches into his back pocket—it’s a struggle—removing his wallet from that rubbery pants pocket. Two seconds before the birthday girl shuffles herself to the door, he holds out a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill.
“Miss,” he says to the gray-haired woman squinting up at him. “Happiest birthday from”—his brows lower—“a secret admirer.”
The older woman’s eyes widen behind her Coke-bottle glasses.
Will lays the bill in her palm, and the woman wraps her wrinkled fingers around it with a smile. “It’s from Mel, isn’t it?” she says.
Will winks at her. “I’m not allowed to say,” he whispers.
“Thank you,” the other woman says, one arm around her mother.
“Happy birthday!” I say—a little too loud, a little too jubilant for the quiet hall we’re standing in, for the lie Will is telling. I scoop the hat off my head and hold it out to the newly eighty-year-old.
She takes the hat and gives me a small, confused smile. Looking up at her daughter, she asks, “Is that Mel’s girl?”
Will takes one step backward. “Have a good night,” he says before tugging me down the hall. My hand is tucked into his, and while it doesn’t mean anything—it can’t mean anything—I’m not quite ready to take it away. Will is warm and strong, and I like my grasp in his.
“Why did you do that?” I ask once we’re in the stairwell.
Will shrugs one shoulder. “I thought it would be fun.” He pauses and peers down at me. “I also assumed it would be some little kid’s birthday.”
I laugh. “Yeah, me too. But this was almost better. Did you see the look on her face?”
“Yeah.” He grins and starts up the stairs once more. “It was perfect. I mean, except for the part where you almost blew it. Are you capable of telling a small white lie, Alice Taylor?”
“Probably,” I say as Will pushes open the door to the hall. We walk hand in hand down to our set of rooms. “But it makes me uncomfortable.”
Will grins and pulls his hand from mine. “Yeah. I know. That fact was completely obvious.”
I run my keycard over the lock and push the wooden door open. “Thanks for the fun day, Will. I needed it.”
“So did I,” he says, unlocking his own door. “Goodnight, Alice.”
“Night.” I slip inside, my heart pounding in my ears.
Flopping onto my bed, I pull out my phone and scroll through the few photos I took today. I wish I’d thought to take one of the game, but it didn’t even occur to me while cheering on the Rapids. I flip through to the photo of Will’s back as he stands below the balloon arch. I slide to the one of the two of us on the elevator. I swallow, peering at the picture. I’m tucked so close to Will’s side—almost like I belong there.
I send the picture of Will alone to Zoe, certain she’ll appreciate it.
Me: Look what I got Will to wear. BTW this photo is top secret.
Zoe: Wow. That’s… interesting.
Me: It was a good day.
Zoe: I’m glad. I really am.
Zoe: Just a reminder—Billy’s rules. No dating coworkers.
I stare at her text. I’m not dating Will. And thankfully I sent her the picture of him alone. What would she have written if I’d sent her the photo of the two of us?
Me: Not a problem.
Zoe: I just don’t want any issues. You’re an asset to this team, Alice. Good luck tomorrow. You’ve done good work. I believe you can help us with Jacobson. And I’m rooting for you!
I’m still staring at the phone when there’s a triple knock at the door that joins my room to Will’s.
I swallow and hurry to the door when Will knocks a second time.
“Hey,” I say, my breathing haggard as I throw the door open.
Will’s brows are cinched and his eyes strained. He looks upset. What could have happened in the five minutes we’ve been separated?
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Are you busy?” he says.
“Uh.” I glance at my phone. What does he think I’m suddenly doing? “Just texting Zoe.”
He nods, but it’s an anxious movement. “What does she say?”
“She says good luck.” I swallow down my own nerves. “And she likes to remind me that I’m not allowed to date coworkers.”
His concerned stare turns curious. “Huh. That’s odd.”
“Yeah, I thought so too.” I tilt my head. That isn’t why Will knocked on my door. “Will? What is it?”
He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs with the gulp. “Alice, I can’t get these pants off. I think they’re glued to my body.”