Giant Guy grinned, his cheeks dimpling deeply. “And I don’t want to use it against you. So how about falling to the pit for three seconds, eh?”
Hannah scowled and shook her head. Her gaze sought mine and she said, “I want you recording this, Liam. Every detail. Every plea to let him go.”
Amongst the murmuring chatter of the crowd, I re-gripped my pen.
Giant Guy snorted. “You’re funny.”
“Let’s see who ends up laughing,” Hannah said, and sank her fingers into his armpits and wriggled.
“Ga-ha, stop it!” Giant Guy rolled his arms back, the swing of his arms sending him off balance and launching a half-stride slip.
Hannah doubled her effort.
Whallomp!
Giant Guy over-corrected and ended up on his ass, pulling Hannah with him.
She wasted no time to straddle him and continue attacking his armpits with rigorous tickles.
“Stop, stop,” he cried out between tears of uncontrolled laughter.
“Fall back into the pit for three seconds,” Hannah said,pushing herself hard against him in an effort to force him back. “Then I’ll stop.”
He gave a pathetic attempt to shove her off, but it exposed his armpits more, and he ended up surrendering quickly, much to the amusement of his friends and the crowd.
In her eagerness to get out of the pool, Hannah slipped and crashed once more into the slippery giant. His arms circled her waist, steadying her. “Careful now, my pride’s been shot enough tonight. Can’t have you tackling me to the ground twice.”
She laughed, looking up at him. He smiled down at her, his eyes crinkled.
I carefully ripped out a piece of paper from the middle of my notebook. When they clambered out of the pool, I handed it and my pen to Giant Guy.
“What’s this for?” he asked, grabbing it with slimy fingers as Hannah awkwardly jerked putting her shirt back on.
“That’s what attraction looks like.” I gestured to the paper. “For you to give your number to Hannah.”
He raised his meaty brow. “And you are?”
“Liam Davis. Reporter forScribe.”
“Just give it here,” Hannah said, snatching the pen and scribbling something on the paper. She curled a finger around one of his belt loops and, when he came forward, slipped the paper into his pocket. “In case you ever fancy eating Jell-O with me again.”
“I didn’t really eat any Jell-O, you know,” he said, grinning as he slipped a finger inside his pocket.
Hannah laughed. “Yeah, you ate it all right.”
With style and grace, and a playful smile, she took my arm and steered us out of there.
As we crossed the threshold into the cool night air, a flyer stuck on my shoe. I shook it free and the yellow paper fluttered down a few steps toward the path. Written in large letters across the top wasHave You Seen The Raven?
I picked it up, Hannah leaning against my shoulder to read it too.
“Someone really doesn’t like The Raven,” she said as I scanned the flyer again and looked back at the lit Victorian house behind us. Hannah was right.
I folded the flyer and stuffed it in my other pocket. We ambled to the corner of Fifth and Walnut.
“Thanks for the evening,” she said.
“You put yourself out there,” I said, hailing her a taxi. “Seemed like it worked for you.”
