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Hannah doubled her effort.
Whallomp!
Giant Guy over-corrected and ended up on his ass, pulling Hannah with him.
She wasted no time to straddle him and continue attacking his armpits with rigorous tickles.
“Stop, stop,” he cried out between tears of uncontrolled laughter.
“Fall back into the pit for three seconds,” Hannah said, pushing herself hard against him in an effort to force him back. “Then I’ll stop.”
He gave a pathetic attempt to shove her off, but it exposed his armpits more, and he ended up surrendering quickly, much to the amusement of his friends and the crowd.
In her eagerness to get out of the pool, Hannah slipped and crashed once more into the slippery giant. His arms circled her waist, steadying her. “Careful now, my pride’s been shot enough tonight. Can’t have you tackling me to the ground twice.”
She laughed, looking up at him. He smiled down at her, his eyes crinkled.
I carefully ripped out a piece of paper from the middle of my notebook. When they clambered out of the pool, I handed it and my pen to Giant Guy.
“What’s this for?” he asked, grabbing it with slimy fingers as Hannah awkwardly jerked putting her shirt back on.
“That’s what attraction looks like.” I gestured to the paper. “For you to give your number to Hannah.”
He raised his meaty brow. “And you are?”
“Liam Davis. Reporter for Scribe.”
“Just give it here,” Hannah said, snatching the pen and scribbling something on the paper. She curled a finger around one of his belt loops and, when he came forward, slipped the paper into his pocket. “In case you ever fancy eating Jell-O with me again.”
“I didn’t really eat any Jell-O, you know,” he said, grinning as he slipped a finger inside his pocket.
Hannah laughed. “Yeah, you ate it all right.”
With style and grace, and a playful smile, she took my arm and steered us out of there.
As we crossed the threshold into the cool night air, a flyer stuck on my shoe. I shook it free and the yellow paper fluttered down a few steps toward the path. Written in large letters across the top was Have You Seen The Raven?
I picked it up, Hannah leaning against my shoulder to read it too.
“Someone really doesn’t like The Raven,” she said as I scanned the flyer again and looked back at the lit Victorian house behind us. Hannah was right.
I folded the flyer and stuffed it in my other pocket. We ambled to the corner of Fifth and Walnut.
“Thanks for the evening,” she said.
“You put yourself out there,” I said, hailing her a taxi. “Seemed like it worked for you.”
“Yeah.” She curled an arm around my neck and, with vodka Jell-O breath, she pecked the side of my cheek. “Jack and Jill are such dicks,” she said, “Of course I’m your real friend, Liam.”
Chapter 14
The light in Quinn’s room leaked from the slit at the bottom of the door. I slipped out of my coat and suit jacket, and toed off my shoes.
I rubbed at a splotch of dried, crusty Jell-O on my thigh. It wasn’t the best idea to turn up to the Jell-O party in my suit. But never mind. I’d stick them in the wash.
Movement came from Quinn’s room, and I sidled closer to the wall that he shared with the living room. I only heard silence, so maybe Cheddar had left already? That, or they had very quiet intercourse.
I swallowed the sudden dryness in my throat, and almost immediately followed it up by banging on Quinn’s door.
“Liam?” Quinn asked, pulling the door open.
One glance told me he was alone in the room, and I shifted my gaze back to him. His worried frown quickly disappeared, and he casually leaned against the doorjamb in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants.
Goose bumps didn’t scatter over his skin like the last time I’d seen him shirtless, but his nipples were stiff and redder than I remembered, though it could’ve been the light.
A finger curled around my chin and lifted it. “My face is up here,” Quinn said with an amused smile.
“Are you serious about Cheddar?”
“Why?”
“I might be gay,” I said.
“You just figured that out, smart guy?”
“I need more proof to ascertain it’s true.” I walked forward, pressing my palm against his warm chest. His hairs prickled my skin and sent electric beads of excitement up to my elbow. “Cheddar?”
A delicate blush streaked Quinn’s cheeks and his boxed ears lifted a fraction. His large hand cuffed mine, pressing firmly, as if to keep me right where I was.
“Cheddar’s a friend of mine,” he said quietly, his green gaze burrowing into mine and sending all the blood I could spare right to my groin. “A friend who played decoy tonight.”
“Decoy?” I asked, my body leaning toward him.
He bent forward, holding his nose just far enough from mine that it felt as if our noses were touching, even though they weren’t. “I really hated that documentary.”
