I grin. ‘I think you just did.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘You didn’t deny it either,’ I sing-song, enjoying the way his jaw tightens like he’s trying his hardest not to laugh.
After a beat, he sighs, looks around dramatically like he’s making sure no one is around to hear. Then he leans in slightly and says in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘I didn’t know cactuses were real until I was about nine.’
I nearly trip over my own feet. ‘I’m sorry? You didn’t what?’
Asher stares determinedly ahead. ‘Never mind. Forget I said anything.’
‘Oh no, absolutely not. You’re not getting away with dropping that kind of lore and then chickening out.’ I nudge his side with my elbow. ‘Elaborate, please.’
Asher lets out a pained groan, looking like he desperately wishes he’d said something more normal like ‘I don’t think pineapples belong on pizza’.
‘Fine. But this stays between us.’
I make a show of crossing my fingers and holding them over my heart. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’
His lips twitch ever so slightly. If I weren’t paying such close attention to him, I don’t think I’d notice. But I am, so I do.
‘I’d only ever seen them in cartoons. Looney Tunes, mostly. You know the ones with Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner? He’d go crashing into one or get flattened next to one. So I thought…’ He pauses, and I give him an encouraging nod. ‘I thought that cactuses were just another made-up Looney Tunes thing. Like the Acme rockets. Or anvils falling from the sky.’
I have to stop walking for a second because I’m laughing too hard to move. ‘You thought cactuses werefictional? Like they were just cartoon props?Cactuses?’
Asher scowls at me, but there’s no malice behind it. ‘Yes. Until a holiday in Greece when I was a kid. I was walking back from getting ice cream with my brothers, and I saw one by the side of the road. I remember thinking that it looked so fake. And I thought it was so strange that someone would take the time to make this completely fictional thing from a kid’s cartoon and just leave it randomly on the side of the road.’
‘Oh my God.’ I clamp my hand over my mouth to try to muffle the cackles from coming out. It doesn’t work, but I have to hope Asher appreciates the effort.
‘So I ran up to it,’ Asher continues, the tips of his ears darkening slightly. ‘I remember yelling for Andreas to take a photo and then—’
‘Oh no,’ I say, knowing exactly where this is going. ‘Tell me you didn’t touch it.’
‘Worse, actually,’ he says solemnly, looking like he’s having war flashbacks. ‘I ran up to it and full-on hugged it.’
That sets me off again. I’m bent over in the middle of the street, practically crying. ‘Youhuggedit?’
‘I didn’t think it was real!’ he protests, his mouth curving upwards despite himself. ‘I thought it would make a funny photo! Anyway, long story short? I spent the next half an hour picking needles out of my arms, face and chest while my brothers rolled around on the floor laughing. I’ve still got a scar.’ He points to the faint scar I’d noticed along his right cheekbone at the gala. Of all the ways I could’ve imagined he’d got it, deliberately face-planting into a cactus definitely wasn’t one of them.
I swipe at my eyes to wipe away the warm tears that are now flowing freely. ‘That just might be, and no offence, the funniest thing I think I’ve ever heard.’
‘Glad to be of assistance,’ he says dryly.
He very kindly lets me get through the last of my giggles and then we fall back into step and turn down another side street. I’m still smiling and, despite the May breeze, my chest feels oddly warm. He didn’t have to tell me that story. He could’ve made something up or said something boring and generic just to keep me quiet until the end of our walk. He didn’t even have to suggest the walk at all, but I’m glad he did.
I like talking to Asher. It’s easy. It’s been easy from the very beginning, I realise, remembering how easily our conversation flowed back at the members club. When it’s just us, I don’t have to put on airs and be Imani Davies, dutiful daughter and heiress to the Peregrine Airways empire. I canjust be me and apparently, that’s enough for him. Ironically, it feels like we’ve known each other for years.
Suddenly I’m hyper-aware again of how close to each other we’re walking and how his stride matches mine like we’re old friends who have done this kind of walk a hundred times before.
I clear my throat again. ‘My turn now?’
He arches a brow like he’s sceptical I can come up with anything that’ll top cactus-gate. ‘Alright, let’s hear it.’
‘Okay.’ I take a dramatic breath. ‘Until I was about, uh, ten? Maybe eleven? I wore a head brace.’
His head jerks towards me. ‘What?’
‘Yeah,’ I say with a wince, as previously squashed memories from my childhood come flooding back. ‘I had a pretty strong overbite when I was younger.’
