Pulling a Puzzle
Three out of every five relationships die a death of uncertainty before skin ever meets skin or lips ever meet lips. In fact, two out of five die at "I'll ring you."
Will figures they've got a leg up there. Their phones get daily exercise.
He also figures they're really, really going to need it.
Maths has never been his favourite, but he has a feeling those statistics they rattle off on telly are skewed towards the conventional. Girl and boy and one and two and that's all, the end. When an issue like who, exactly, goes where enters the picture, Will's convinced success rates decline exponentially.
There's a moral grey area (well, all right, it's pretty heavily black) but there's something here that doesn't have to be an issue for Will. He rationalises: knowledge is power, and spreading a little happiness surely isn't wrong, and, anyway, if he keeps looking at their faces in the soft firelight he won't be able to talk himself out of it.
It only takes a quiet moment. Then he falls into Jane's lap; she squeaks with surprise, but not displeasure. Before there can be any more reaction he reaches up, threads his fingers through white white hair, and pulls their companion down until lips most definitely meet lips.
Certainty tastes sweet.
***
Note: Title a reference to Coldplay's "The Scientist."
