Grass water #2
“You okay?” Of course Will sees. The guy could identify a weak pass from the opposite side of a basketball court. He does it with his very hot torso, distracting chest and amazing abs. But he identifies things.
I shake my head to chase the thought out. This is not coherent thought anymore.
His eyes drop towards my fingers opening the container on the island. I immediately stab a piece of chicken with unnecessary force.
“Low iron,” I explain. “Lack of sleep. Bad grip.”
He looks back at me. “That isn’t an explanation. That’s three unrelated excuses standing on each other’s shoulders.”
“But I have barley juice! Wanna try?” Chewing the non-seasoned chicken.
“What the fuck?” He raises his eyebrows as I fill a glass with water, tear open a tiny sachet from my bag and pour in the bright-green powder.
Will looks shocked. Maybe disgusted.
I smirk while stirring. “It’s good for you.”
“Does it make you look less pale?” He studies my now green juice, as I call it, with the captain attention that is quietly screaming what the hell is that.
“It makes me live longer. It’s good for your immune system.” I bring the cup forward to offer Will first.
He scrunches his nose, then looks at the glass. My arm is shaking a little and I think Will notices it, because he wraps his fingers around the glass immediately. Then reluctantly. “Okay. Do I have to finish it?”
“No. Just try.” I release my hand from the glass, watching Will take the first sip.
Oh God. The face that he makes.
“This is grass water.” He winces.
I laugh delightedly, checking the label again. “It is officially, young barley grass powder. So yeah. Technically, you’re correct.”
“No thanks.” He hands the glass back to me.
A laugh escapes before I can stop it.
“Coward.” I finish it in one go like chugging a beer.
“How much did you sleep last night?” He asks as soon as I finish.
“Enough.” I shrug again, chewing my chicken with a face.
“Maddy.”
I chew the chicken again. He waits. I’ll give it to Will, the guy can hold silence like a weapon.
“Three hours.”
“Three?”
“And a half.” I give him my easiest smile.
He gets up, takes another glass from the cupboard and fills it with water. Instead of telling me to drink it like a father in a medical commercial, he places it beside my elbow and returns to his seat.
I drink it anyway.
“How long have you been doing three-hour nights?”
“Only this week.”
“It’s Thursday.”
“Exactly. Nearly finished.”
The strange part was that I had felt excellent all week. Three hours of sleep had seemed generous when everyone else was moving so slowly. The exhaustion only arrived somewhere between Jason’s bedroom and the driveway.
I finally climb onto the stool. For one second, I think the responsible captain voice is about to emerge.
But Will only sits opposite me again and continues eating his own dinner, while his eyes watch me put another piece of chicken into my mouth and chew happily.
Damn it. I’ve already prepared myself to become deeply uncooperative.
I eat a piece of broccoli before he can produce another medical observation. “Where is everyone?”
“Nate should be home soon. Lizzie and DJ are upstairs.”
“Doing what?”
Will gives me a flat look. That’s when I realise a faint burst of Benson Boone above us.
“Ewwwww.” I make another face. Can’t help it. “Don’t answer.”
“Wasn’t planning to.” He returns to eating his broccoli like nothing.
I feel bad for Will. I really do. The guy has done nothing but ignore a very active life happening right above his head while keeping his dick in his pants. I wonder what his dick looks like under those grey tracks. Rose Prick. Nooooo. That’s the name of my perfume, not an imaginative dick.
I smile around a piece of broccoli. The buzzing inside my head lowers by approximately four percent. At the thought of dicks apparently, or from chewing chicken. Unexamined thought.
I use the extra headspace to realise that Will’s got brown eyes. Hazel. I squint my eyes to take a better look.
Will points his fork at me. “Okay. Which part of your empire is currently on fire?”
I temporarily leave the business of finding out the exact shade of Will’s eye colour and answer him. “What?”
“You’ve been staring at my face for thirty seconds and whispering the word deliverables. What is actually on fire?”
“The campaign.” I give him an easy answer.
“The gym one?”
Oh. Did I mention that to him sometimes in our forced dinners this week?
I immediately nod. Then the words spill out properly.
“Jenny and I have the shoot on Wednesday, except there are approximately ninety-seven things that could go wrong before then. The photographer Lucy might cancel. She hasn’t signed the contract yet.
Because I haven’t sent it to her. Mike could arrive in branded shorts when the gym specifically requested no visible logos.
Also, professional professionalism. The client still has not approved the final shot list, and Jenny’s brother is helping with the athlete introduction, which means if the entire thing is a disaster, I will have embarrassed myself in front of her family before the friendship has fully dried. ”
“Friendships dry?”
“This one with Jenny is still setting. I feel like she’s testing me professionally among memes and gossips. She doesn’t even gossip. Only a little. She’s also testing my fashion sense. Her date stood her up today.”
He leans his forearms against the island.
“Has the photographer said she might cancel?”
“No. Availability confirmed. Contract not signed.”
“Has Mike threatened to wear branded shorts?”
“No. I told him I’d murder him.”
“Do you have back up clothes?”
“Two sets.”
“Has the client rejected the shot list?”
“They have not approved it.”
“When did you send it?”
“Four hours ago.”
Will looks at me for a moment.
He points his fork at me again. This fork has slowly turned into a weapon against my brain. “You’re panicking about things that have not happened.”
“That’s why it’s called panic, Will. And I chose to call it preparation.”
“You are planning three consecutive disasters while actively creating a fourth through sleep deprivation.”
“Multitasking! Which I’m excellent in.”
“Your hand is still shaking.”
Damn it. I immediately put it flat against the island. “Now it isn’t.” I smile at him sweetly.
“If it goes badly, they won’t use us again.” I admit quietly.