Page 61 of Hexed Up

“Take that, sucker,” I tell him, dropping my cue down onto the table and fist-pumping the air.

“Very well played, Sugar Booger, but we’re not done yet. Darts, next?”

“Why not?” I say, trying to appear calm and collected.

As predicted, Horatio is much better at darts than I am and completely wipes the floor with me, our game ending in a matter of minutes.

“One-all, Miss Eccleston,” he says with a self-satisfied smirk.

“Just be thankful I didn’t damage your foot,” I mutter. “Shuffle board next.”

I beat him at shuffle board pretty convincingly, but he tramps me at foosball, and so it’s two games-all and only table tennis left.

I pick up one of the bats and spin it in my hand.

“Where shall we take the Ferrari for my first lesson?” I ask him.

“Better get ready to kiss me with that trash-talking mouth of yours, sweetheart,” he says back, choosing a bat and positioning himself at the far end of the table. We toss a coin to decide who serves first and I take it as a good sign that I win.

Horatio is twice as big as me and a lot stronger. He smacks the ball with a lot of power, whipping it across the table. But I’m smaller and lighter and niftier. It means we’re pretty evenly matched, the score drawn as we creep closer and closer to finishing the match.

By the time the score is ten points to me and nine to him, I’m actually sweating and Horatio is wiping the damp from his brows.

I just need one more point to win and I’ve won overall. But if he wins the next point, the serve reverts back to him and who knows how much longer this game will last.

I scowl at him crouching at the other end of the table, focussed intently on me and whatever I’m going to do next. I toss the ping-pong into the air and smack my bat against it. It flies across the table, over the net, bouncing onto his side of the table. He swings back his bat and blasts it back my way. It hits the edge of the table and I have to fling my body that way, thrusting my bat towards the ball and only just managing to hit it. It spins in the air, brushing over the net and skimming the tabletop, the bounce so low, there’s no way for Horatio to hit it back. He tries anyway, launching himself over the table, but the ball’s already double bounced and I have won.

“I won!”

I stare at him and then down at my bat in disbelief.

I don’t think I’ve ever won anything in my entire life.

“Damn it!” he mutters, tossing his bat onto the table and brushing his hair from his eyes.

“I won!” I say again, spinning around on the spot. “I won!” I grin like a maniac. “I beat a great big hulking giant! I bet you were captain of your school football team, weren’t you?”

“No, I never made the team.”

“Don’t ruin the illusion,” I tell him, “I beat you!”

I grin up into his face and he can’t help smiling back at me.

“Congratulations, Miss Eccleston.”

He holds out his hand and I shake it firmly but when it comes to pulling our hands away, neither of us do.

“That was the second best thing I’ve done with my clothes on in a long time,” I tell him.

“Yeah, me too,” he says, still holding my hand, running his thumb over my knuckles.

Above us the lights flicker briefly and the clock chimes one o’clock in the morning.

“You know,” I tell him, “in some sports it’s customary for the loser to kiss the winner.”

“Really? What sport is that exactly?”

“Definitely this one.”