AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I take a few seconds, my eyes searching until I see where they might be, up on the highest shelf.
“I think they’re up there,” I say, pointing to the spot.
It’s obvious that my five-foot-eight self can’t reach the bin, and Graham tries but isn’t able to grab it either.
“There’s supposed to be a step stool in here,” I say, looking around and then remembering where I last saw it. Evie. She was using it to reach up and disinfect the not-gerbil-infested shelves.
I look around the space, wondering if there’s something else I can use, and see nothing. This room is Evie’s baby and she keeps it tidy. No one is allowed to stash anything that doesn’t belong here.
I push on the metal shelving, wondering if it would hold my weight if I climbed up.
“Do you think if I lifted you up you could grab it?” Graham asks.
“Uh,” I say, suddenly self-conscious about that idea. “I don’t think you could—”
I’m cut off as he bends over, wrapping his arms around my waist as he lifts me like I weigh nothing. Like I’m just a sack of potatoes. Like he does this every day. Maybe he does.
“Graham!” I exclaim as I suddenly feel weightless and free and a tiny bit frightened, even with his strong arms around me. What if it becomes too much and we fall over? There’s not a lot of room in here. At least I know I’ll be in good hands if Graham has to stitch me up. He’s a pro at it.
“Can you get it?” he asks, his voice normal, like he’s not even struggling to hold me up.
Yes, right. I need to be quick about this. I reach up and easily grab the container and pull out an otoscope.
“Got it,” I say as he gently sets me down.
I look up, smiling because I can’t believe he just did that, and I realize how close we are. Mere inches between us. Like a flash, Morgan’s challenge comes back to me, and I realize I’m in the supply room with a handsome man. My heart does a little skipping thing as my pulse quickens.
Supply room. Graham. Me. The year of Lucy.
This would be totally out of character for me. So out of character that Morgan might actually tell me I’m cured, I don’t have to even finish this challenge she’s made for me, and she’s retiring from being my boss on the spot. I could come to work tomorrow wearing a very pretty red coat. Yes, I’d wear it to work because while it’s the kind of coat you save for special occasions, if I did that, I might never get to wear it since I haven’t had one of those in years. So it would become a very special everyday coat for me.
I wouldn’t, though. I couldn’t. Could I? I mean, as far as someone to do this with, Graham is the perfect person. If his reputation really does precede him, then he’d probably be up for it. What’s one little kiss to a guy who’s probably kissed so many others? Tons of others.
But still. This is stupid. I’m not going to do this. Maybe I’ll just tell Morgan I was in the supply room with a handsome man, and therefore, this counts.
I hand Graham the scope and he takes it, my fingers grazing his palm for the briefest second, and I feel a sort of electric sensation at the contact. He jerks his hand back, making me wonder if he felt it too.
Maybe I could do it? Wait. No, I couldn’t. But maybe ... I have about a half a second to make a decision here, and I’m definitely not going to do it.
Ryan’s smug face comes to mind. We were sitting on my parents’ couch, that confident look on his face, when he told me I wouldn’t be able to do it—this challenge Morgan made for me. I felt that competitive feeling again, the one I used to get after I’d hear the words take your mark and I’d crouch on the starting block, ready to dive in. The anticipation, the adrenaline, the focus. It wasn’t that intense with Ryan last night, and yet, it reminded me. It’s been a long time.
I’m feeling it right now, too.
Screw it. I’m doing it. This is the year of Lucy, after all. I’m going to be so out of character, even I won’t be able to recognize myself.
I better make sure Morgan is sitting down when I tell her. Just in case she faints.
“Could you do me a favor?” I say to Graham, the words spilling out of my mouth before I can think better of it. I feel heat rise to my cheeks. Am I really doing this?
“Sure,” he says.
I take a tiny tentative step toward him, and he eyes me with a mixture of confusion and perhaps a little trepidation.
He takes a quick breath. “What are you doing?”
Do I go for honesty? Or do I just ask him?
“If I asked you to kiss me for ... for a reason,” I say, deciding not to explain. It would take too long, and time is of the essence. “Would you?”
