Backdoor action #2
I give both Leila and my client my sweetest smile. “We’ll send the raw files and the final edited ten next week. I’ll also send through a few contacts for marketing and design so you can turn the photos into proper social campaigns.”
As soon as my client nods, I head straight for my rower before Leila can manufacture another conversation.
She has appeared in front of me twice now. Twice too many.
I want nothing to do with Leila, and that includes small talk.
“Your boyfriend’s here by, the way.” My rower informs me.
Will is walking over with his gym bag hanging from one shoulder.
“Mercer.” Lucy, my photographer, waves at him. She knows him now. He’s shown up enough times for what he calls emotional support that apparently he’s part of the crew.
He picks me up sometimes. Other times he appears halfway through a shoot. I just wasn’t expecting him today.
“Hey, baby.” Will steps into our little group. “I like the new set names, by the way.”
He bends to kiss me, but I’m already turning towards my athlete. “We just wrapped.”
“Congrats on the win, man.” The rower catches Will’s hand and pulls him into that quick clasp-and-shoulder-bump thing athletes seem to do automatically. “Princeton is definitely getting somewhere.”
“Thanks, man. Brown this week. If that goes well, I think we’re strong for the finals.”
“Kick Harvard’s ass. They’ve been getting smug for holding that title for three years straight.”
“Damn right. Anything is possible.” Will grins.
“Mason needs to get better on defence though. He’s hesitating too much.”
“On it. He knows it too. But he’s reading it correctly, so we’ve got Leon covering.”
“Yeah. Leon’s quick enough.”
I’m still catching up on all the basketball jargon when Leila’s voice cuts through again. “Who’s this?”
I pause. The audacity of the question, really.
“This is Will.” I tilt my head lightly towards Will standing next to the rower. My face, to my great effort, remains exceptionally neutral.
“How about that coffee, Maddy?” Leila asks again.
“Are you going to stop showing up in front of me if we have that coffee?” I ask her straight.
That apparently pulls Will’s attention back to me. He studies my face without saying another word.
“One coffee. Just chat,” Leila assures me.
“Fine. Saturday at two. I’ll send you the cafe,” I tell her.
“Two on Sat? I can’t—”
“Then no. Guess that coffee won’t happen.” I cut her off.
“No.” Her voice softens. “Let’s do Saturday at two.”
She always does this. Drops her voice half an octave into wounded-little-girl mode whenever boys are nearby, so my completely normal speaking voice suddenly sounds like I’ve arrived to collect a debt. With guns.
I offer her a light shrug, and turn to Will to meet his narrowed eyes. “Ready? I have a lecture in forty-five and I’m starving.”
“Ready.” Will takes my laptop bag and starts walking towards his car.
I quickly give a round of hugs to everyone who is also leaving and strike down the road to match Will’s pace. He probably couldn’t find parking nearby so we’re still walking when he asks me. “Who was that?”
“That was Leila.” I smile faintly. “My ex best friend.”
Will’s steps slow. “As in you had a friendship breakup? Is that the girl who showed up at our place?”
“Yup.” I lift a shoulder.
He turns his head to look at me for another second, then takes my hand in his. “Everything alright, baby?”
“Yes.” I answer cheerfully, looking down at our joined hands. “I’m about to be fed by you, it’s perfect.”
“So.” He scrunches his nose as we stop in front of his car, standing tall in front of me. “Are we doing This is Will with everyone you know?”
“Maybe.” I grin.
He only narrows his eyes.
“Unless you prefer William Mercer. Senior captain. Econ major. Emotionally entangled housemate. Very committed to chicken.”
Will tips his head back and laughs. “Fuck, no. Boyfriend is fine.”
It takes a couple of minutes for him to recover then we both settle inside his car. Will puts my bag in the back seat of his silver Toyota like it’s a passenger.
His hand finds mine in the middle control as he drives off. Nassau goes past the window.
“The usual?” he asks without looking at me.
I nod, then realise he can’t see me so I offer a small “Yes.” Then I turn to him, voice completely levelled. “Will. Do you find it tiring to be with me?”
His hands do not move from the wheel but he glances towards me. “No. Of course not. Why do you ask?”
My eyes stay on him. “You don’t find my mind strange?”
“You’re bubbly and bright and slightly terrifying. That’s not strange.” He smiles at the road ahead.
“Mm.” I nod again.
Then he indicates and pulls into the loading bay outside the pharmacy. As soon as the car is in park, he turns off the engine.
“What are you doing?” I stare at him.
“You said something important.” He turns to face me properly. “I’m not doing this while driving. What’s on your mind, baby?”
The way he looks at me—completely, aggressively, insufferably William Mercer—makes me want to get out of the car and walk for a second.
“What’s the matter, baby?” He squeezes my hand. His eyes haven’t left mine.
“I don’t have class at two. I have a counselling appointment on campus.” I look at the glovebox.
Sure. I wanted to keep it to myself and maybe see where it takes me first, if it’s actually informational before telling anybody and make such a big deal about it.
But lying to a guy who’s taking me to lunch feels impossible. Not when he looks at me like that.
“Okay.” He nods once. “I already know you don’t have a class at two. Why do you need counselling?”
My eyes widen at him. Of course he knows my schedule. The guy measures his macro intakes daily for fuck’s sake.
“I may or may not have bipolar tendencies—” I stop.
Start again. “Or a spectrum of it. So my mind goes very fast for weeks. I can do anything. I’m awake at five with nine ideas and work on three different proposals at once.
I’ll take meeting with anybody. I’m funny.
Everything is easy. Everybody likes me and I feel like I’m on top of the world.
Like the best.” I speak a little faster because today I feel like the best version of myself.
“I’ve seen that.” He nods again. “And then?”
“And then it just stops.”
Will says nothing.