I swallow down a knot in my throat as he says, “Friends.”
But why don’t I believe him?
20
DEVLIN
Friends. Blair wants to be friends. I want to haul her over my shoulder, dump her on my bed and have my way with her, and she wants to be friends.
So I’m being a friend.
And what friends do is sit two rides away at a winter carnival in a magical town while listening in on their “friend’s” date and telling them what to say next.
Three cheers for being friends.
A wizard dressed in tight leather pants and a short-sleeved shirt stops, opens his mouth and exhales a line of fire. Using his hands, he sculpts the tendrils into a bow and arrow. Then he slingshots the arrow into the air, where it explodes into fireworks. People who’ve been watching break out into applause. I do, too. Watching him has been the highlight of this whole night.
Right now Storm and Blair are sitting in the teacup ride while I’m hanging in the background like a secret service agent, incognito and looking like a creeper all by myself at a carnival filled with parents, children and couples.
Yes, several parents have already pulled their children away from me.
If Hands were here, he would be telling me to stop the date, tell Blair how I feel and get on with it.
To that I would reply that Blair has told me howshefeels. She’s been perfectly clear, in fact. She wants to be friends, so that’s what I’m being.
Good old Devlin.
Before we left the house, I cast a spell that lets me communicate with her. I can hear their conversation and also tell her what to say next.
Yes, she insisted on that. Don’t ask me why, because when she was dancing with Storm, she didn’t need any help. But she swore that it’s required now. I suppose all the pressure of marriage is getting to her.
It’s also getting to me. I think that I’m coming down with a stomach ulcer.
The teacup ride ends, and Blair rises on shaky legs. She laughs and spills onto Storm, who catches her and chuckles. He takes her hand and guides her to a row of games.
“Oh, the squirt gun game. I love that one,” she says.
“Want me to win a bear for you?” Storm jokes, clearly making fun of the fact that people do things like spend their money to win a giant bear.
But Blair doesn’t catch his sarcasm. “Yes! Would you? That would be awesome.”
He balks. “I was joking, but sure. If that’s what you want. I’ll win one so that you can put it on your bed and think of me whenever you look at it.”
Do not say anything about taking her home. If something like that comes out of his mouth, I will walk over and punch him in the face.
Lucky for Grayson, he remains quiet.
Storm is the most arrogant man I’ve ever met, and that’s saying a lot coming from me. Because I know arrogance. Hell, I live and breathe it.
But he takes it to a whole new level.
“So,” Storm asks, bending over in preparation to use the human squirt gun. You can’t have everything be magical at a magical carnival. I suppose some things are better done the human way. “That was some dance you and Devlin did last night. You looked cozy.”
“Cozy? Oh, we’re not cozy,” she says, her voice wobbly.
Is that hesitancy I sense?
Just to push her, I say, “Tell him the truth.” I speak into my hand like any good Secret Service agent.
