Now it feels like hunger.
And the worst part is the fact that my body responds to it every single time. A flush of heat. A quickening pulse. My brain is swamped with the memory of his hands, his mouth, the weight of him pressing me into the mattress.
He knows what I look like when I come apart now.
He knows the sounds I make. The way I arch my back. The way I gasp his name.
And judging by the heat in his gaze, he’s thinking about all of it.
I fumble a balloon animal so badly that it looks more like a crime scene than a poodle.
“That’s a funny dog,” says the child I’m making it for.
“This is a very rare breed,” I say, examining my balloon catastrophe. “It’s a…Wobblington Terrier. They only exist in Scotland. Very exclusive.”
“Can I have a normal dog instead?”
“The Wobblington Terrier is deeply offended by that question.” I start twisting a new balloon, trying to focus on anything other than the way Leo is looking at me. “But yes. One normal dog, coming up.”
The new balloon turns out passably dog-shaped. Small victories.
I allow myself one breath of relief before the next child appears, demanding a sword.
Swords are easy. I can do them in my sleep.
What I cannot do easily is survive another hour of Leo looking at me like that.
I need to regain control of this situation. The dynamic between Leo and me has shifted dangerously off balance, and the only way to fix it is to remind both of us who’s in charge.
“Leo,” I call across the room, injecting my voice with the brightness of Captain Giggles. “I think it’s almost time for our grand finale. Why don’t you go get changed into your special costume?”
His eyes narrow. “Which special costume?”
“Sparkle McHornface, of course. We can’t end a party without a game of Sparkle Says.”
“I thought this was a dinosaur-themed party.”
But I’m already clapping my hands to get the children’s attention.
“Kids! You’re about to witness one of the most amazing transformations in nature. Snugglesaurus is actually a unicorn in disguise! He’s been undercover this whole party, but now it’s time to reveal his true magical form. All it takes is enoughbirthday magic. Do we have enough birthday magic in this room?”
“Yes!” the children scream.
“Then let’s see Snugglesaurus transform! Everyone chant with me:Sparkle, Sparkle, Sparkle!”
Leo shoots me a look that promises retribution. Then he turns and heads toward the changing room, inflatable dinosaur tail bobbing behind him.
I feel a small surge of victory.
This is better. This is familiar territory. Me tormenting Leo. Leo plotting revenge. No confusing feelings, no complicated chemistry, just good old-fashioned psychological warfare.
When Leo comes back out, the children lose their collective minds.
“Sparkle!” they shriek, swarming him like glittery piranhas.
Leo stands there, engulfed in pink fleece and small, grabbing hands, and meets my eyes across the chaos. The look he gives me is fifty percent murder, fifty percent something else entirely.
It’s the something else rather than the murder that makes my stomach flip, I’m fairly sure.
