“But you said…” he began, grinding on my last nerve now.
“That it had been awhile since I’d played and that I probably wouldn’t be much of a challenge for you,” I pointed out. “Turns out I was right. It wasn’t much of a challenge. From the way you were bragging about beating everyone, I thought you’d be so much better.”
His eyes practically bugged out of his head when my words sunk in. “Oh, fuck off, you!”
“I’m not the one who was begging for fresh meat,” I said, leaning against the table to enjoy the full effect of the slow flush of fury darkening his face. “You got what you asked for. Not my fault you can’t handle the result.”
“I want a rematch!”
“Pass!”
And to emphasize that point, I stalked back over to the rack and returned the cue before scanning the bar for an empty seat. That fried calamari still seemed like a damned good idea. Oh good, there was one clear on the other side of the room from the pool tables. His forehead was furrowed, and his lips were peeled back in a sneer. If it were possible for people to have steam come out of their ears, that’s exactly what would have happened; he was so pissed, and me being me, I winked at him as I strode past.
No way he was dumb enough to grab my arm, yet there were his fingers, squeezing tight and digging in. Growling, I reversed the hold, just to make him ease up on the pressure. Too bad he didn’t let go. Now we were just standing here like morons holding on to one another.
Fuck.
This was so not what I needed tonight.
“I’m a jellyfish, you idiot!” I growled.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
…first he screamed, then he tugged his arm free, blisters already forming on his skin as he groaned and doubled over, clutching his belly, on his way to a rapid meeting with the floor. I took two steps back to avoid being kicked as he writhed and was glad I did when he ripped a fart and the back of his jeans began to darken. I backed up more when the stench hit, and it started trickling down the leg of his jeans as a few people gasped, and some even covered their noses and started to move.
Uhhh…cleanup on aisle 3?
I could practically feel everyone’s eyes on me, and for once, that might actually be a good thing. The pair in the booth to my left had seen him grab me, and a bunch of other people had too. I hadn’t taken steps to defend myself and barely put in the effort to try and make him let go, though I could have. My sweaty skin had done the job for me, thanks to the humidity in the room, and transferred my body's natural toxins to him.
Joy.
I hoped the EMTs were familiar with jellyfish stings because Nuno seemed to be particularly sensitive to them.
“What did you do to him?” one of the guys he’d come in with asked.
“Did you see me do anything to him?”
“No, but…” He gestured to his friend, then moved the hell away from him when Nuno let out another squelching fart.
“That should henceforth be viewed as a lesson in consent,” I declared. “Specifically the part about not touching someone without their permission. Had he asked, I’d have warned him that it wouldn’t be a wise move. I’m a jellyfish, so um, it might be a good idea for you to call an ambulance for your friend.
The thought of having to explain this to the authorities when they arrived suddenly made me feel queasy, or maybe it was just the stench. Either way, I started to look around for a placeto sit, along with others who were rapidly vacating the area, when one of the men who’d been watching me from their booth approached, hands held up in a sign that they weren’t intending to touch me.
“You look a bit unsteady,” he said. “Is it okay if I help you find someplace to sit down?”
“Did you not see what happened to the last person who touched me?” I asked, taking a slow, shambling step sideways to keep space between us.
“I did,” he replied, “but I’m a leatherback turtle, so I’m immune. Will you let me help you?”
I considered saying no until the room lurched and started going gray around the edges. Yeah, I really needed to sit down.
“I think you’d better,” I croaked, trying to fight through the panic that was threatening to overwhelm me.
