Will stared at the body, the corners of his mouth curling down.
“We should probably go.” I stepped over the bodies, making my way from the landing onto the stairwell to the next floor. Halfway down the staircase I looked back when I didn’t hear Will following. He had hardly moved. His body was facing the stairs as if he was going to follow, but he was still staring at the bodies. “Will.” I clapped. “We have to go.”
“Oh, right,” he said, blinking back to reality. He hurried to the bodies and picked up one of the guns. “I have no idea how to use this,” he said He put it back down. Finally, he followed me and we made it to the first floor without encountering anyone else. How were the stairwells empty? PISP really had planned this well.
We emerged on the ground floor to chaos. The lobby was crowded with angry tenants. With everyone shouting, I couldn’t comprehend anything being said, but I could finally hear the fire alarm clearly. How PISP had obscured that from us originally, I didn’t know. When the two of us had made our way into the crowd, I finally felt safe.
“Oh, wow.” I heard a voice from where we had come from. Peeking back, I spotted an employee calling to another. “The door is finally open!”
I didn’t need to hear anymore, I grabbed onto Will’s arm and we made our way out of the building.
Sixteen
Will
A few hours later, under the cover of night, my sore tattooed shoulder, bloody fists, and smoke-filled lungs found themselves at Daichi’s place.
“Dude, I said take a break. Not—go get a tattoo or burn down a building. And most certainly not both. Who does that? You’re lucky I’m an understanding boss.” He leaned forward on his recliner. “And you’re lucky I’m mighty curious; tell me everything.”
I told him everything, from the tattoos to the point where we received the mysterious texts and investigated. I mentioned Alejandro and his lack of help and the fact that neither Kristen nor I wanted to spend the night at our house, leading me to Daichi and her to Chris.
He leaned back, pulled the lever for the footrest, and looked to the ceiling. “That is different,” he said. “Quite the story.”
“Well, yeah, one moment I’m working an ice cream truck on a misty morning in Portland and the next I’m nearly human toast.”
“No, not just that.” He hummed to himself. “Although that is important, I’m more concerned with the romance that seems inevitable. I think this will end well.”
Better than the last countless fails? He had a wild look in his eyes which caused me not to ask why he was more interested in Kristen than my near death experience. I waited for him to tell me why Kristen was different from the other girls of my haunted past. What made her seem like such a good match so far? What made this girl so captivating? Her physical features, definitely, but that couldn’t be all of it.
Daichi and I sat there in silence for a good five minutes before I gave up.
“I can’t figure it out. What is it about this girl? All I do know is I want to make her happy despite only seeing her, like, three times. Three times, Daichi.” I exhaled and flopped from sitting to lying face first on the couch. The time of night along with my wounds swept a tsunami of exhaustion throughout my body that I could no longer ignore.
My eyes fluttered as they closed, heavy with fatigue. Unsurprisingly, my mind floated to thoughts of Kristen. Her happiness was a drug, and I was beginning to question its over-the-counter availability. It really should have been a controlled substance.
I popped my head up, ignoring the kink in my neck. “Let’s go to Target, tomorrow.”
Seventeen
Will
There was an orange-red sunset that shone through the streets as I unlocked the door to my house. I walked inside with the Target bag in my right hand. I hoped Kristen was home. I shut the door and walked up the landing toward the kitchen. When I reached the top, I heard soft footsteps and saw her face peek from upstairs.
“Hey,” she said.
I waved her down, and she took the steps two at a time. Eager. Or was I reading that wrong?
“I got a surprise for you,” I said as we reached the kitchen.
“Oh, what is it?”
I watched her approach. Shorts and a tank top. Typical Kristen, it suited her perfectly.
She stopped before me and the bag. “So, what is it, big head?”
I glared at her (is it possible to glare with a grin?). “Good thing I kept the receipt,” I said, tightening my grip on the bag.
“What is it, normal-sized head?” She slowly reached for the bag. “Better?”
“Go ahead.” I let go of my grip and gestured for her to take a peek inside.
She pulled the bag down from the box and sucked in her breath.
Kristen
Unable to hide my lack of patience, I slid the bag down. “Will.”
He beamed. “You did say we needed one.”
“Wow. I thought it would be tattoo aftercare stuff or something.” I was shocked. He had brought home a blender. I picked it up and placed it on the counter. I switched between staring at him with my mouth agape and reading the features on the box. “You remembered.” Yep, I was in shock.
How could he act like this was nothing? This was so thoughtful. I stammered something incoherent. He leaned against the table, now in the path of the sunset that framed his handsome features perfectly.
“I had no idea,” I said.
“Well, Kristen, that’s what a surprise usually is,” he teased.
That’s not even it. It wasn’t that I wasn’t expecting a blender, but rather that he had remembered something I mentioned in passing. With the events of the past day—nearly dying and getting a tattoo—there was no way a blender should be on his mind. Cooper didn’t even remember when I asked him to bring me a glass of water. No—I wouldn’t compare this time. Will was on another level. A level I didn’t know existed.
“Wait right here. Let me put some socks on, and then we can blend some shit,” I said, already running out of the kitchen. I ignored the aches in an attempt to remain strong in Will’s eyes. I took the steps two at a time once again, but this time it was because I felt the corners of my eyes collecting a small pool, just threatening to be released.
Will
Kristen bounded out of the kitchen and I cursed under my breath. The happiness that exuded from her was overwhelming; I was amazed I could still stand. She was intoxicating. She was perfect.
There was nothing more I desired at that moment than to grab her by the hips and place her on the counter. How nice would it be to look at her and not resist the force that pulls me toward her. More than anything, I wanted to be in the position before my lips met hers, to savor that moment and keep it in my memory bank for the days to come. Replaying that would give me the same chills whether I was thinking about it days or months later.
Kristen’s footsteps were audible as she came down the steps. I forced myself to stop biting my lip. I didn’t want to look silly in front of her.
“I got my socks,” she said, entering the kitchen. “And the tattoo ointment. I’ll help you put it on your tattoo if you help with mine. Back tattoos are the toughest to reach. Especially with your injuries.”
“As long as your fingers are warm, you’ve got a deal.”
She opened the blender and plugged it in. Then, we found some strawberries and blueberries in the fridge. I wasn’t sure if it was enough, but she waved my concerns away. She said we’d just use a ton of ice. I decided to trust her, despite her not making anything with a blender in years. I guess she was right, how hard could it be?
Ten minutes later we discovered it could be quite hard. Although, I blame the fact that we were both distracted. I was sitting at the table, daydreaming of her on the counter while she was blending. Hence, me missing that she had put coffee grounds in. I guess she was just so used to dumping coffee into cylindrical things.
“Welp, time for aftercare,” I said, throwing up my hands in defeat and moving i
nto the living room.
She followed me into the room. “We’ll have to go shopping sometime.”
“Yep,” I agreed. “But get your butt back in there and put those hands under some boiling water. I can see those suckers freezing into icicles from here.”
She rolled her eyes and turned around, going back into the kitchen.
I got on the floor and did ten push-ups. I would be lying if I said I didn’t have to use the newfound control over my strength surges to finish the push-ups. Due to yesterday, I wouldn’t be able to complete the push-ups without them.
She returned to find me sitting on the couch, attempting to keep my breathing from giving myself away.
“I had to get the aftercare stuff, anyway,” she said, holding up a tube of ointment.
“Does this come with a massage? Because I can feel a few knots tightening up.”
“Only if I get one too,” she said, sitting on the ground. “Shirt off.” She patted the floor in front of her.
I whipped my shirt off and sat in front of her. What is she thinking? Did my push-ups have enough time to puff my chest up?
One finger and then two found their way to my back. Thankfully, they were warm. The ointment was thick and soothed the slight soreness of the tattoo. Her fingers retreated and I peeked over my shoulder; she was wiping them. She caught my eye and motioned me to turn back around.
I faced forward and closed my eyes, awaiting the feel of her delicate fingers on my back again. Goose bumps appeared from sheer anticipation.
Her right hand touched my back and began slowly kneading below my shoulder blade. Her left hand met my back shortly after, mimicking the kneading motion.
“How much pressure do you like?”
I shrugged. I had no words. “This is good.” Okay, I had three.
Her hands continued to massage me, moving down to my lower back. Though my eyes were still closed, I could picture us sitting on the floor, her touching me for the first time. I loved the sight. Strangely, I thought about when we would switch, and I was just as thrilled to provide her the serene pleasure she gave me.
Kristen removed her hands briefly. I took the moment to breathe deeply. As I exhaled, her hands reached my shoulders. Her thumbs rubbed circles over my traps while her other fingers ran over the upper arm itself. They started down my arms, and she squeezed ever so slightly every now and then. I thought I heard her inhale. I mouthed a silent thank-you for remembering to do those push-ups. Kristen’s hands made their way down to my elbow, briefly ran over my forearm, and then made their way back up my arm. The hands of this angel reached my traps and continued to my neck. She dropped one hand, resting it clasped onto my left bicep. The other hand split into a claw shape and massaged up the back of my neck, under my hair.
“You’re lucky you saved my life yesterday.” Her voice wafted over my ears from behind. “I don’t usually give out massages to random men.”
I smiled, still at a loss of words. I swear I almost moaned, though. “Kristen.”
“Yes?” Her voice came out in a whisper.
“I like this.” I turned and looked into those eyes I’ve had so much trouble avoiding lately. “Your turn.”
We switched positions and she took off her tank top, leaving her in only a sports bra. My breath instantly left me. Same thing as a bathing suit, I thought, trying to convince myself to stay calm. Either way, I was affected. I applied the ointment without a word. I wiped my fingers clean and placed my hands on her back. She had a relatively small frame, and my hands took up a large area. I copied her motions and routine. I stared at the back of her neck. She had swept her hair to the side, leaving her neck exposed for my fingers. I wanted to skip to massaging it. I made my way down her shoulders, squeezing as I did.
A random question appeared in my head, desperate to be asked. “What don’t you tell most people?” I wanted to know her.
“Hmm. I dated a girl once.”
“Oh, really? How was that?”
“Good, better than you monsters,” she said.
“I think you’re mostly joking, but I sense some truth in there,” I said.
Her shoulders shrugged under the weight of my hands. “I think I might be a douche magnet. Somehow I always end up with their big heads tattooed on my back.” She turned around with the slyest of grins.
I leaned forward an inch and stopped. Now even my natural reactions were working against me. Every part of me wanted to kiss her. I attempted to play off the movement with a slight push. “I’m gonna go back and get a caricature of you tomorrow.”
She scooted around to face me. She brought her hand up to her mouth and faked a gasp. I held back a grin. We were sitting facing each other. Our eyes locked.
“Tell me about your writing,” I said. Hopefully I wouldn’t be as tempted to kiss her if she was talking.
She pursed her lips. “I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember.”
“Is it cliché if I ask to read it?”
“Probably.” Her eyes sparkled with joy.
We were getting better. Eye contact and conversation. “Do you want to publish a book?”
She looked away and rubbed her still-bare shoulder. I took my hand from my lap and hovered it over where she had just rubbed. She didn’t withdraw, so I placed it on her shoulder and rubbed. Her skin was so soft. Was this comforting? I hoped I wasn’t the only one enjoying this.
“I think so,” she finally answered.
My hand dropped down her arm and found its way to her hand. I pressed my palm into hers. “How can I help?”
“That’s a good question. I’ll get back to you on that.” She gave me a half smile. It seemed like she might be trying to open up. If she was trying, I could wait.
“Cool, let me know when you need me.” I squeezed her hand. “Wait, how weird do you think we look right now?” I chuckled as I pictured us sitting there, topless, just facing each other.
“I’ve done weirder,” she said, before letting out a soft laugh. “I’m gonna finish some school work up here, and then I’ll meet you downstairs for another sleepover.”
That night when bedtime came, Kristen and I were in our respective beds, fairly silent. I was lost in thought, bordering on confused.
I knew I fell for cute girls easy, especially if they had any sort of charm . . . but this was ridiculous. It’s almost as if nothing but Kristen had existed for the past two days.
“Will?” Her voice cut through the silence.
“Yeah?”
“Remember you asked how you could help?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Believe in me.”
Eighteen
Kristen
“Kristen!”
I turned to Chris. “What?” I asked in a sharp whisper.
“I called your name, like, sixteen times. You’ve just been staring at that damn book for twenty minutes. What are you even thinking about?” Chris asked.
I looked down at the book I was holding. I was in the table of contents. I closed the book to check the cover. I didn’t remember picking it up.
“Girl, you might have a problem,” my best friend said.
“In what way?” I took a step back. “It was just a super interesting table of contents.” I placed the book back on the shelf and walked farther down the aisle.
“Why don’t you tell him how you feel?” Chris asked.
I waved her suggestion away. Should I? No, I had been broken up with Cooper for only two days. Or was it three? It felt like months.
“What is going on?” I asked Chris.
“I wish I knew. It’s hard enough getting into that brain of yours when you aren’t in dreamland.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“What is it about him that has you so smitten?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Chris.” What was it? Will was handsome. When he bit his lip unconsciously, it was adorable and alluring. Running my hands over his back last night was nice. But it wasn’t anything physical, was it?
Those things were good, but I didn’t think that was what made me stare into a book for twenty minutes.
“He’s thoughtful. In less than a week, he’s already put me ahead of himself multiple times,” I said. Chris nodded, probably wanting me to continue. “He wants me to be successful. He wants me to be happy.”
“Did Cooper ever say those things?” Chris asked.
“Sure,” I said. “But not like this. Will’s eyes are genuine.” I walked down the next aisle.
“I know you won’t make a move, but what if he does?”
I picked up The Name of the Wind off the shelf. I had seen it when he was unpacking. I looked to Chris and threw the book into her basket. “Not sure,” I answered. “I suppose we’ll see when and if he does.” How would I react? I wish I knew. “All right, I’m ready,” I said to Chris.
“Okay, let’s go check out, then.” She turned on her heels.
As she began walking, I found myself whispering under my breath. “If he’s what I need, then he’ll show me, right?” I shrugged and followed Chris.
Nineteen
Will
I sat on the couch at Daichi’s place, which was becoming quite familiar. The couch was developing a butt print and everything. My thinking spot. For the past hour, I had been “watching” The Big Lebowski. I had no idea what was going on. Rather, I couldn’t stop thinking about Kristen. What if I gave in? It was tough trying to be responsible. Usually, I’d just worry whether the girl wanted to kiss me or not. But with this particular beauty, I was worried about the repercussions. Not only the fact that she was my roommate, but more that I wasn’t sure I had it in me. Could I survive a fall from the highest peak? Situations like this were what got me into one-year-left mode in the first place—and those were from falls half this height.
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