Mr. 365 by Ruth Clampett

front of the shirt. “That’s perfect!”
    Will blinks repeatedly before looking over at me.
    I shake my head frantically with my hands up like I didn’t know anything about this.
    “Can you iron both just in case?” Lindsey says to Gia.
    Gia nods and gathers the shirts and works them onto hangers.
    “Those aren’t for me, are they?” Will asks, his “what the fuck” look still firmly in place.
    “Sure they are. Aren’t they awesome,” Paul says happily.
    “Sophia tells me you’re the one interviewing me on camera. So, are you wearing one?” Will asks Paul.
    “Ah, that would be no,” he says, laughing.
    “Good, then I’m not wearing one either. This is the first I’ve heard of it anyway. I’m just going to wear my own clothes.”
    Paul’s face gets a little red as he considers what to say to Will. Finally he turns away and walks toward the hallway.
    “Sophia, you work this out,” he says as he passes me.

    Later when the group takes a break to check on the work up front, Will heads to the backyard. I watch from the window as he stomps across the wet grass and away from the house. I follow him out.
    He looks wary as I approach. “What was that about?” He doesn’t even try to hide his anger.
    “I swear, Will, I didn’t know about the shirts… and I sure as hell didn’t know about Mr. Christmas.”
    Will gazes off into the distance and shakes his head. “I don’t feel good about any of this. You said they weren’t going to make me look like a fool.”
    “Please don’t be upset. I’ll say you won’t do the shirts. It’ll be fine, I promise.”
    “Sophia, don’t make me promises you can’t or won’t keep.”
    “I wouldn’t do that,” I say softly, my eyes glazing over with the realization that this has damaged his hard-won trust in me.
    He glares toward the house and squints. Then he turns toward the back of the yard. “Follow me,” he says gruffly.
    I rush after him to the back corner of the yard and come to a stop behind a towering shrub. He turns to me and grinds his boot heel into the hard soil.
    “Will?” I ask, trying to control the concern in my voice.
    “I need to know something.” He jams his hands in his pockets.
    “I’ll tell you whatever I can.”
    “Sophia.” His eyes are so intense it’s as if he’s looking straight through me.
    “Yes?” I whisper, fear bubbling up in me about whatever dark thing he’s apparently thinking.
    “For this shoot… to get me to do this”—he pauses and looks down— “did you play me?”
    “What?” I say, now fighting back tears. “How can you ask that?”
    “I need the truth.”
    “I’m telling you the truth. I did
not
play you.” I drop my chin and close my eyes. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” I whisper.
    When I finally look up at him he’s watching me intently.
    “I swear Will.”
    He studies me and then looks away.
    I step closer to him and put my hand on his forearm. “Will?”
    He lifts his chin and looks up at the sky. “Sophia, when we first met you asked me to trust you and I decided I would. But since then some of your actions have made me wonder if I made the right decision. I’m just hoping I didn’t make a mistake.”
    I curl over and press my hands above my chest like I’m trying to protect my heart. It’s as if his words slapped me and I can still feel the sting. “How can you say that after all of our talks? Don’t you know how important it’s been to me to earn your trust? Why would I jeopardize it like that?”
    He shrugs, and looks off into the distance.
    I step even closer until we’re almost chest to chest. “Last night you told me I could be your girl. I may not have had all the struggles you’ve had in life, but I’ve been hurt too. My heart is on the line here as well. But I believe in you. I believe in the possibility of us.”
    He watches me and I can see there’s a battle raging in his eyes.
    “Don’t let this shoot mess it all up.” I turn to walk back inside the