Page 76 of Hexed Up

Unfortunately, putting Mr Hottie out of his misery means I’m up next. And though my ankle is healed, my knees are still a little wobbly on account of all these feelings.

I step out in front of my family, all their eyes staring at me. Horatio’s too. And I swear it must be written all over my face.

I have feelings for that man.

I have feelings for that man.

I have feelings for that man.

I have feelings for that man.

It’s so mortifying.

“Come on,” Prim says, nudging Norman, who once again has his nose buried in his mobile phone.

“Right,” I say, collecting myself.

Unfortunately, and unhelpfully, the only films, books, and songs that come floating through my mind are all love-related.Love Actually. ‘Love in an Elevator’.Love Story.

Love, love, love, love, love.

Hang on. Don’t get me wrong. I’m notin lovewith Mr Hottie. I have feelings for him. There’s a difference, right? A big difference.

I lift my chin and draw back my shoulders. I’m going to do something which is the antithesis of love.

I stick up a finger.

“One word,” Prim calls out.

I make the motions of an old cine film.

“Movie!” she cries out.

Then I motion stabbing someone to death.

My family all stare at me like I’ve lost my mind, but Horatio’s calling out, “Psycho!” almost immediately.

“Wow,” Tiggie says, swirling a straw around a full cocktail glass. “You two are really in tune. It’s like you can read each other’s minds or something.”

I glance at Horatio, who glances at me, and then I scurry back to my seat.

“You’re up again, Horatio,” my mum calls out.

“No,” I say, putting my foot down. “Leave the man alone. Uncle Harold, you haven’t had a go yet.”

Uncle Harold is utterly hopeless at charades and the game fizzles out almost immediately after that, everybody retreating upstairs to their bedrooms, even Prim and Tiggie, who both complain about being tired after all the exercise, despite mybest attempts to convince them we should stay up for more nightcaps.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tiggie asks me, whispering in my ear. “Why are you trying to get us to come to the bar? I thought you’d be dying to dive back into bed with your new boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” I say, obviously not very convincingly because my little sister grabs me by the elbow and hauls me into the nearest side room, slamming the door shut behind us.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“Nothing’s going on,” I say, wishing there was a potion that made people better at lying.

“Have you had an argument or something? Or is he actually a complete cad behind that perfect façade? You do have a bad habit of picking complete cock-heads.”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. He’s lovely, really lovely,” I say, probably a little too enthusiastically, a little too swooning. My sister actually seems convinced, but then I go and ruin it by adding, “I just want to spend time with my two sisters.”