Somehow the wagon is still dangling up there.
“We thought about moving all the furniture out of the room,” Will explains. He’s clean and preppy in a pair of Nantucket Red shorts and a white linen button-down with the sleeves rolled up. There’s a whisper of light-brown chest hair showing, which — was that there last night? Because damn. It’s hot. “But it seems too risky to stand under that thing for even a second.”
“I’m so sorry.” I bury my idiot face in my hands. “I feel like such a piece of shit.”
“I’m telling you, it’s fine. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened. That thing has always made me nervous. My mom, too. She’ll probably be relieved that she finally has an excuse to make Dad get rid of it.”
The energy in this space has transformed overnight. There’s emptiness where all the drunk bodies used to be. Silence in place of music. And I no longer have that liberating buzz. Without it, I have to wonder if coming here was a mistake. Somehow I feel like I’m actively telling a giant lie just by existing around Will.
“Nice cut, by the way!” he says. “When did you —”
“My mom,” I tell him. “She’s a hairdresser.”
“She does good work. You look handsome.”
“No, I don’t.” Of course my kneejerk reaction to receiving a compliment of any kind would be to immediately invalidate it. “I mean… thanks.”
Will tilts his head and gives me one of those scrunch-faced looks of his.
I clear my throat. “So where is everyone?” I ask. “This place feels like a ghost town compared to last night.”
“I’m surprised you remember last night.” He playfully grabs my shoulder. His hand has a better grip than I would’ve expected. I don’t hate it. “Pretty much everyone went home this morning. I think Wagongate freaked them out. Robbie’s the only one who stayed. He and Shayla are down at the dock. They convinced our dad’s maintenance guy to dewinterize his boat early because of the weather.”
“Oh.” I almost forgot I was dealing with a rich person. No wonder he’s not stressing out more about the wagon. His dad has a maintenance guy, for Christ’s sake. “That’s cool.”
We stand around in silence for a few seconds. I take a moment to observe all the kitchen finishes — hickory wood cabinets, stone tile backsplash, butcher block island. And so much open counter space! Nonna would kill for a kitchen like this.
“You seem uncomfortable,” Will finally says. “Is this weird? Do you want a drink or something?” He looks at the clock display on the stove. “I guess it’s only one o’clock, but you know. Spring break.” His eyes wander for a moment. “Unless you’re too hungover.”
“I’m not an amateur,” I say. “I’d love a drink.”
He smirks and pulls out two tall cans of Goose Island IPA. I’ve never heard of this beer, but I have to assume it’s fancy. (Is it actually not fancy and in fact totally plain? Listen, I’m not a beer aficionado and Luke was a Basic Budweiser Bitch.) “Here.” He pours the cans one at a time into two separate pint glasses. “Cheers.”
“Salut.” I clink my glass to his and take a swig as we both settle onto barstools at the oversized granite counter. “Whoa. This is different.”
“Nice, right?” he says. “I love a hoppy brew.”
I cock my head and look at him in an attempt to process the fact that I’m drinking with someone who just (a) poured our beers into actual pint glasses, and (b) used the phrase “hoppy brew.” He shoots me a dimply half-smile, which I’ll admit looks adorable alongside his stubbly facial hair. Shit! You know what? I misjudged this guy. He can get it. There’s an easy confidence about him that I somehow didn’t pick up on last night. It’s more welcoming than it is intimidating — which is new to me — but it’s still confidence.
“What?” he asks.
“What?” I repeat.
“Do I have something on my face?”
“No.”
“Oh.” He smiles again. “Okay.” He takes a big sip and intentionally gets a thick layer of beer foam on his mustache. “What about now?”
Any other guy would lose major fuckability points for this goofy-ass maneuver (it’s Marco-esque!) but somehow Will doesn’t. He actually gets a laugh out of me.
“You’re funny,” I say.
“Well… I’m no comedian.”
The sneaky way he says it makes the memory come crashing back into me like a benign tsunami. He saw my Notes app last night. “Oh. Right.”
He pokes my arm. “Tell me a joke.”
Every organ in my body winces at once. “You didn’t actually see anything on my phone last night, right? I will fully die of embarrassment.”
“Just that one joke about… frozen vegetable medleys, I think it was?” He snickers to himself as my organs wince all over again. “What? I thought it was cute!”
“Cute is the opposite of funny!”
“Not to me,” he says. “Come on. Tell me a joke.”
I almost want to sputter out something stupid — quickly and ironically — just so we can move on from this subject. But I can’t think of any material off the top of my head that doesn’t make me want to punch myself in the face. And pulling out my Notes app would just look pathetic. What kind of comic can’t ad lib a fun little zinger on the spot?
“We’re in a kitchen!” I tell him instead, as if that explains everything. “I can’t just randomly pull a joke out of my ass in a kitchen. That’s not how stand-up works.”
“Fair enough.” He leans back on his stool and takes another sip of IPA. My eyes pick up on a hint of muscle definition as he lifts the pint glass. My mind responds by trying to calculate the shortest possible route from this-painful-conversation-about-my-nonexistent-comedy-career to us-just-getting-naked-and-hooking-up-already. “Do you ever perform at any clubs?” he asks. “I’d love to see you in action.”
I almost choke on my beer. “You’re kidding, right? No. Never.”
“What are you scared of?”
“Bombing!” I say. “Comedy audiences are ruthless.”
“Who cares what they think?”
“Me!”
Will chuckles and brushes off my hysterics. “I’m sure you’d be great. After a few drinks, especially.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You just seem like you’re a little more comfortable in your skin when you have some lubrication.”
Ding! My mental GPS just found a shortcut.
“Are you trying to tell me you wanna fuck right now?” I fake-gasp. “Because I might be okay with that.”
“Uh.” Will’s face turns completely red. “This took a turn.”
“Was that too far?” I ask. Even though I know the answer is unequivocally yes. “That was too far.”
“No, let’s do it!” Will digs into his pocket. “I know I’ve got a condom in here somewhere. Might be expired, but…”
“Ha ha —”
“You’re okay with bottoming, right?”
Oh, my God. I think he might be serious? Okay! So I’m fully about to hook up with this guy I barely know. On a Wednesday morning in the middle of the woods. Whilst hiding out from the police after committing arson not even forty-eight hours ago. Who says you can’t have it all?
My face flushes with heat as I fumble to formulate a sexy response.
“I’m kidding!” Will says and then pauses. “Did you think I was serious?”
Before I can figure out my answer, the front door swings open and Shayla floats into the kitchen like a fairy princess. Her eyes widen when she sees me.
“It’s you.” She flashes a bitchy look at Will. “Please don’t tell me you invited him onto the boat with us. He might break that, too.”
“Why do you have to be like that?” Will asks her. “I already told you I’m taking the fall for the wagon. It’s not even your problem at this point.”
“Hi, Shayla.” I swallow my embarrassment and try to sound as sane as possible to counter the image of unhinged chaos I presented her with yesterday. “Listen, I seriously am so —”
“Whatever.” She adjusts the strap on her sundress and seems to thaw out a little bit. “Just don’t go getting all sloppy again. I won’t hesitate to throw your ass overboard.”
“Oh — I actually wasn’t planning on joining you guys.”
“You have to!” Will says.
“Yes.” Shayla flips her hair. “You just have to save my tragic brother from being the third wheel he was born to be.”
“Ouch, sis.” Will rubs fake tears from his eyes. “Very ouch.”
Shayla purses her lips.
Seeing them in the same room again reminds me of just how different they are — in both looks and personality. “Are you sure you’re twins?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah, no — we’re not,” Shayla zings. “Will was a last-minute pickup at the hospital.”
Will pinches her arm. “Now you’re just being mean.”
“I’m obviously kidding!” She pinches his arm back. “Listen, Robbie’s out there and ready to go. I’m gonna change real quick. If you’re not out at the dock in five, we’re leaving without you.”