Page 72 of Foes & Cons
Incomprehensible to the non-best friend.
“He’s coming over.”
“Charlie Chamberlain is?” I say, whipping round, not excited or tummy-fluttery in the slightest.
“Hotty McHotbod,” Roxy stage whispers, then bursts out laughing.
“Hey, Team Awesome,” says Fake McKinley, frowning at Roxy as she presses her finger against his arm, accompanied by a sizzling sound.
He’s still in his lovely tight threads but now accessorised with his birthday crown. He smiles and fist bumps us both then holds out a bottle of water.
“Hi,” I say, beaming at him, then turning my nose up at the H2O.
He rolls his eyes and takes my hand, placing the bottle into it.
“I need to whizz,” announces Roxy before dancing off.
“OK?” Fake McKinley says, smiling down at me,
“Better than OK,” I say, “I amebullient.”
“I hope so, whatever that is,” he says, laughing. “You did awesome.”
“Thank you for helping Roxy put it together. And for getting me on,” I say, sipping some water.
He waves my thanks away and folds his biceppy arms.
“No need. Roxy was all over it, and so were you. Just needed a little nudge.”
“Well, you’re both my heroes, anyway,” I say, play-punching his massive shoulder muscle and actually hurting my poor knuckles. “I’m a lucky girl.”
A new song starts, getting a big whoop from the dance floor, and Fake McKinley’s face breaks into an even wider smile.
“You’re about to get even luckier,” he says, putting his hand out to mine as he steps backwards to the music. “This is my all-time favourite song! Come on!”
I let him take my hand but hold back still, enjoying him stepping from side to side as he sings his heart out to the song.I shake my head, laughing.
“So, you can dance as well as sword fight?”
“Hell yeah. My mum made me take dance lessons until I was sixteen. Said the girls would love it.” He does a spin, then putshis hand to the side of his mouth and leans down to me. “And they do – thanks, Mum!”
He winks and we both laugh, then he holds out his other hand.
“I don’t believe you took actual lessons,” I say, shaking my head. “No way.”
He stops moving around and steps in front of me, holding both his hands up in the universallet’s-tango-or-some-other-type-of-danceposition. I stare at them, then back away laughing.
“Come on,” he says, grabbing the hand still clutching my water and pulling me up to him.
I tuck the water into my sword holster and stumble into him, my legs still a little wobbly from earlier, but his citrussy smell gives me a boost of energy. He smiles and attempts to lead me on our fun little side dance floor. I tread on his foot for the third time and he laughs, shaking his head.
“You, however, have clearly never had lessons,” he says.
“True, but what I lack in technical training, I make up for in zeal,” I say.
“Zeal?” he says, laughing as he tries to spin me.
“Yes, zeal!”
