“Oh, I’d say I’m shitoutof luck. It was definitely a compliment, but I’d very much like to see that,” he says into my ear, and it sounds like he’s smiling.
Before I think too much about it, I let the rhythm pounding in the air work its way through my body and start twirling around him like a complete idiot pretending to be a ballerina. Because this way is the most fun.
I do a ridiculous version of a twerk, making my skirt bounce, then quickly spin into the inflatable tube man dance—rewarded by a hearty laugh from this delicious man, alongside some sideways glares from people around us. Next up is the dab, and a swift transition to the Flerk. My version of the old Floss. Never got the hang of the real deal when it was a thing, and my coordination hasn’t improved with time.
He laughs so hard he tilts his head back, a hand on his flat stomach, before saying, “You win. Please accept my apology!”
The tight group of people surrounding us shifts, and I’m pushed flush up against him. Warm, large hands find my elbows, and the proximity makes my knees weak. I look up at his face, and notice how the warm light dances off the chandelier behind his head.
“Look at this! Isn’t it beautiful?” I say, looking past him, but keeping him in my peripheral.
“It is indeed,” he says, his lips twitching upwards as he follows my gaze. “Have you seen it all yet?”
“I saw the aerial dancers in the Green Room, if that’s what you mean?” I look around at the breathtaking Pink Room we’re in. “I’m quite smitten with this place, actually.”
“If you haven’t seen the Blue Room yet, let me show you,” he demands, holding out a large hand.
“Yes!” I answer, and before I can think twice about it, I lethim guide me through the throngs of people. He stops outside the ornamental wooden wardrobe I saw earlier, but where’s the next room?
The reflection of Alice and Robin Hood in the mirror with the dazzling scene behind us is quite something. The top of my head reaches up to his shoulder. Crikey, he’s tall. I’m pretty average at five feet three inches. Wonder what that makes him. He must be a foot taller, at least.
“We look good!” I say. He smiles, a wide grin revealing a perfect set of teeth, and it melts my brain.
He dips down. “Open the door,” he says into my ear, his breath tickling me and not at all helping the brain-melting situation.
“Really?” I ask, and open the wardrobe door. The excitement is palpable, as if Narnia will stretch out before us on the other side.
Behind the door masquerading as a wardrobe is a low-lit room with what looks like coral and seaweed pillars, and a mix of blues painted across the ceiling, giving it a magical underwater jungle feel. Shrieks of laughter sound from the other side, and I look closer at what’s going on.
Giant bubbles roll around.
“Are those people in there?” I mutter.
It is—they’re zorb balls!
“Wow, this is unreal!” I squeal. “Sorry, I sound like a child, but this is just … magical.” I didn’t know rich people did stuff like this. None of the stories from this place reveal this kind offun! The talk is all about how mad these entitled and powerful people are, and what they get away with. This place resembles a big kid’s birthday party more with each room I see. A well-kept secret.
Robin laughs behind me. “Have you ever been in one?”
“No, I haven’t,” I breathe, and turn back to look at him.He’s looking at me rather than the zorb people. “Haveyou?” I ask. “Is this a normal fixture in Mayfair nightclubs?”
He gives an imperceptible shrug. Maybe I shouldn’t let it show I’m not used to this kind of scene?
“Care to join me?” I ask after a beat.
He doesn’t answer right away, and I can sense anocoming, as if that’s what he’s used to saying, so I beat him to it; “I’ll take your hesitation as a resoundingyes. One over here, please!” I shout to the coordinator and pull Robin Hood with me. His grunt of disapproval turns into a chuckle, and I know I’ve got him.
The zorb ball is too big for me to reach top to bottom, so, despite being strapped in and secure, I cling around his waist. We’re guided towards the coral maze and follow the path lit up on the floor.
“How do those people make it look so easy?” I ask as we stumble along, bumping into the walls and the zorb in front.
“Sorry!” I shout, although I don’t think they can hear me. “Robin, my stomach muscles are aching from laughing.”
“I know, my cheeks hurt,” he says with a hint of a laugh. “I’m used to sore muscles, but not in the face.” He laughs again, mixed with a groan of pain.
We bump around, laughing and squealing (okay, the last part is only my doing). When we come to the end, it’s like being taken from a snuggly cave onto a busy city street, and I just want to crawl back inside. With my arms around Robin again.
“Now what?” I ask, panting. Hoping I’ll get a chance to touch him again.
