The Bright Ones

8| Do you as I?

Tom's class was an agonizing ninety minutes of tense shoulders, white knuckles, and sweaty palms. It was all in my head, of course. Everyone else went on with life as if nothing had happened because nothing had. I compulsively overthought every tiny thing in my life.

Now it was time to face the one person who made my breathing fail. Who made me jumpier than usual. Who made my chest ache and my stomach knot like I was going to die.

"We can be very much romantics," he'd said. And part of me believed it. The other part of me wanted him to elaborate, to show how he perceived romance.

I grabbed the cans of wax for the boat Will and I'd be prepping today. Visiting day was only a week away. There, I'd be able to talk to Riley. Riley would know what was wrong with me. She always did. Reece's notebook was a brilliant idea, and writing it out truly did help, but he was scarcely around after to read and talk about it.

"Hey, Bo." If the voice didn't give away who it was, it was the nickname dubbed by no other.

I set the wax down by the boat and gave a half-smile for a response. His caramel hair was a mess from the continuous hand combing in class, and his freckled nose was red on the sides from his reading glasses.

"How goes the paper?" He grabbed a cloth and some wax after pushing his sleeves up.

I shrugged. "It's going."

I began helping him when he looked over at me. "I—I hope those blokes didn't make you uncomfortable in the library."

My head shook. "No, why?"

"Well, you rushed out of there pretty quickly and didn't come out with us later. I just—I don't know."

We went back to work and continued that way for a while before Will spoke again. "My mum used to take me out on the family boat every Friday when I was younger. She said my dad had done this with her before he'd passed. Then she'd done the same with me before she passed. My grandparents don't understand the attachment to the family boat, but they keep it for me anyway."

I didn't know why he was talking to me this. In truth, I didn't know his parents had died. But the more he talked, the more I relaxed and wanted him to continue, no matter how sad the story was.

Will's flat tone continued, "That's why I know so much about boats. It keeps me close to them I suppose." I guess I was staring because when he made eye contact he quickly added, "Not that you care or asked. Sorry."

I hadn't asked. But I cared so much. I cared more deeply about the meaning the words held than I would have admitted.

"It's fine."

That's all I was able to say. God, why couldn't I just express what I was feeling? Why was I bound to the prison of writing to get my point across?

I turned back to him. "Why did you tell me that, though?"

Will stopped his hand movements and ran a hand through his perfect hair. Parts of it stuck up now from the wax. "I don't know. I guess I'm comfortable around you. You're easy to talk to."

My neck got hot and my legs felt like jelly. I had to say something! It was the polite thing to do after such a compliment.

"It's probably because I don't talk as much as Brodie or Reeve," I attempted in my lightest voice possible. Riley was always the one for jokes in our family.

But to my amazement, Will laughed. And it was a big, real, heartwarming laugh where he grabbed his stomach and threw his head back.

He wiped his eyes. "Or it's because you listen." He finally realized there was wax in his hair and started picking at it. Watching him attempt to fix his hair was like watching a dog chase its tail; entertaining but ultimately pointless. Before I knew what I was doing I was grabbing his wrist and pulling it away from his hair and pulling him towards the sink. I sat him down on a stool and turned on the water as hot as I could get it.

While we waited for the water to heat he continued, "Don't get me wrong—I love them all—but they've never listened the way you seem to do. You're an observer, Bo, you assess and reassess. You rarely initiate anything, and when you do you look scared for your life.

"But Brodie—for example—doesn't listen at all. He's a fighter, not a talker. Dylan is hopeless. He's always giving his opinions in exaggerated ways to give a romantic innuendo. Reeve used to be my go-to, but his father . . . . And then there's Lawr," Will laughed, "and we all know no one wants to talk to him."

I wanted to laugh, I really did, but everything Will had just said bothered me. He'd known me for what felt like three minutes and he could already read me like I'd written out everything for him to read.

The water was warm now so I dampened a rag and began working in his hair. The caramel color turned to an awkward shade of brown that only Will could've pulled off. It felt oddly exhilarating standing over him, being taller than him. When he stood around I always felt so minuscule compared to him.

Will looked at me as I continued with his hair. I couldn't help but smirk. "You're a dumbass, you know?"

He feigned hurt. "What? After that heartfelt compliment I gave you insult me this way?"

"You got wax in your hair!" I shoot back with a playful yank on his hair.

His eyes close as he laughs. "My hair was in my face!" He counters.

"Cut your hair then."

"You don't mean that."

God, I wanted him to kiss me.

Wait! No! What was I thinking? Why was I thinking this? I could feel the heat from my neck rise to my ears and spread across my cheeks. No, no, no, no! I don't understand. Why did I want that? And why, even though I knew it was wrong, did I still want it to happen so badly?

I needed to get out of here. I worked on finishing Will's hair. I think I yanked a little too hard because Will gave a jolt, standing up abruptly, grabbing my wrist. Our eye contact was locked, my heart had stopped, and if I wasn't sick before, I was about to be.

"Let go of me," I whispered. He doesn't. Instead, I'm afraid he read my mind is going to kiss me. He opens his mouth and hesitates, and then he lets me go.

Water droplets drip from his hair, his mouth is still slightly open. "Did—did I do something?"

"I uh . . . ." I can't make eye contact with him. I'm so angry at myself right now. How did this happen? "No. I have to go meet Reeve."

Will looks concerned. "Okay, I'll see you at the study group then."

"I don't know," I mumble.

______

Thoughts?

I'm always reading things on Wattpad and people have their couples together so quick I feel, and then I'm over here with the slowest burning couples🤦🏽‍♀️

Sorry but also not sorry😂