“No! tired! Fatigued! Bad Kissing” Alexander was on the edge of his seat, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Kiss of Death?”
I have never met anyone more determined to win at games than the Rokesbys.
Switching tactics, Blake put a hand on his forehead and pretended to faint. Then he mimed kissing someone.
“Faint!” exclaimed Nigel, earning a clap on the back from Alexander.
Blake grinned and nodded.
Blake stroked his chin, thinking of his next word. His eyes met Jane’s, and inspiration came to him. He grinned and held up two fingers, signaling that his phrase consisted of two words.
Then he held up one finger, indicating that he was miming the first word. He could feel their eyes on him and did his best to look nonchalant as he began to act out the first part of his phrase.
He held his hands apart, gradually closing the distance between them.
“Narrow?” Alexander called.
“Thin?” Nigel ventured, inclining his head towards Blake.
“Getting smaller!” Richard cried out, frowning as Blake indicated that he was getting close to the answer. “Shrinking?”
Blake nodded. He could feel Jane’s eyes on him. He held up his second finger and once again mimed that he was picking up flowers.
“Flower?” Emily whispered, though it carried.
Blake used the whisper as an excuse to look at Jane, nodding as he did so. Their eyes met, and he continued to mime picking flowers. He watched as her eyes narrowed, and she began to murmur to herself.
He gestured for the others to continue guessing, indicating that it was a type of flower. There were cries of “Rose!” “Lily!” and “Magnolia!” Still, he held Jane’s gaze.
She stiffened, her frown replaced by a look Blake could not quite read. She mouthed, “Violet,” and it was as though something snapped within her. He saw something unexpected, her cold disinterest replaced by something more vulnerable and painful.
He saw a ghost of his pain in her expression. The feeling of being told you are inadequate in some fundamental way.
I really am becoming my father.
A moment later, a voice called out, “SHRINKING VIOLET!”
There was a chorus of laughter, and Blake turned to find Jane, hoping he had been mistaken, but she was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, he glanced around in time to see her disappear through an open door.
The laughter in the room suddenly seemed very far away. Guilt washed over him.
You never know when to stop.
He found himself following Jane out of the room.
He caught her in the corridor and felt a tug in his chest as he drew level with her.
“Are you well?” he asked softly, reaching for her without thinking.
She jerked away from him as though he were a snake. “I am fine, thank you.”
“Then why did you leave?” Blake asked.
“What concern is it of yours what I do?” Jane folded her arms across her chest, her usual defiant gaze tempered by sadness.
“You seemed upset, that is all.” He shrugged.
“Was that not your intention? You wanted to goad me with words you thought would provoke my sensibilities, and then when that failed, you decided to proclaim me a shrinking violet.” Jane’s voice broke, and she took a steadying breath. “Why can you not just leave me be?”
