Chapter Twenty-Nine
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
If you put me under threat, I couldn’t tell you a single other thing about our time in Barcelona.
It’s lost on me.
I think the visit at the Spanish supplier goes well.
In Bangalore, all I’m able to commit to memory is the shape of Will’s dimples when I ask if he wants to cancel his hotel room. The way our wrinkled sheets look against the morning light. The particular graininess of his voice when he whispers, against my ear and chest and stomach. The pleasure he yanks from my body. Again. Again. The delicious aroma of Indian takeout we have delivered because this time, neither of us wants to leave the room.
My body never really calms down for him. It’s like a test he’s prepared to fail every day, a test he’s flabbergasted he gets better at every time.
“I don’t understand,” he mumbles against my shoulder one day in Bangalore, just as I orgasm the very second he enters my body. “And I never want to.”
We visit a dye house, a garment factory, two more suppliers. All in great shape, all of whom pass my litmus test.
Will asked me to remember what it’s like to be with him—
Which means everything else is forgettable.