“I came from the past, sixty-five million years,
I’ve seen meteors fall and conquered my fears,
Professor Giggles thinks he’s the king of the scene,
But everybody knows that green is supreme!”
He strikes a pose. The tiny arms flap triumphantly.
The children erupt. They’re screaming, they’re cheering, they’re chanting “Snugglesaurus!” like he’s a rock star and not a management consultant in an inflatable suit, delivering the worst rap in recorded history.
I’m laughing. I can’t help it. The whole thing is so absurd, so completely ridiculous, that laughter is the only appropriate response.
Leo catches my eye through the mesh. He’s laughing too. I can see it in the crinkles around his eyes, the way his shoulders are shaking.
For a moment, we’re just two idiots in stupid costumes, laughing at the absurdity of what we’ve created.
The laughter fades, but the warmth doesn’t. It stays lodged somewhere behind my ribs, settling in like it plans to stay there permanently.
“I think,” I announce, once the chaos has died down to manageable levels, “that we can all agree both Professor Giggles and Snugglesaurus are equally talented rappers.”
“Talented is one word for it,” Leo mutters in a low voice as he comes closer to me.
I shoot him a look. He shoots one right back, and there’s a glint in his eye that I haven’t seen before. Something that looks almost like…mischief.
Oh.
Oh, this is interesting.
“That was a dirty trick,” I say, keeping my voice low enough that the children can’t hear.
“I learned from the best.”
I manage to hide my smirk. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Sure you don’t,” he says.
He adjusts his tiny arms with what can only be described as menacing calm. “You didn’t think your game would go on indefinitely, did you?”
The words hang in the air between us.
I widen my eyes in innocence. “Game? What game?”
“The one you started.” His eyes glitter through the mesh. “The one I’m just joining now.”
I should be concerned. I’m sure Leo Brennan didn’t become a leading figure in the tech industry by playing nice. If he’s decided to turn his considerable strategic intelligence toward the goal of embarrassing me in return, I could be in serious trouble.
But concern isn’t what I feel right now. What I’m feeling is something much more dangerous.
Excitement.
It’s been a long time since someone challenged me like this. Most people don’t play back. They don’t look at me with calculating eyes and hint at retribution in a tone that sounds almost flirtatious.
“Children! Cake time!” Patricia calls out, saving me from examining that thought too closely.
Leo holds my gaze for one more moment. Then he turns and waddles toward the cake table, all wobbling green dignity.
So my little T. rex knows how to bite, does he? That thought makes my pulse quicken in a way that has nothing to do with fear.
