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Seventh sorry.
I took a drink and put my glass down.
“Okay, April,” I said. “Now I have no choice. I want to see these moves in action again.”
“What?”
I got into a cliché fight stance, my hands flat like I was going to do some cartoon karate chop.
“Come on,” I said. “Kick my ass.”
“Seb…”
“Come on,” I said again.
A little playful fighting? What could that lead to? Huh?
I gritted my teeth.
I screamed in my brain that this was Andy’s little sister.
Except Andy’s little sister wasn’t little. She was a grown woman now. A beautiful, filled-out woman now.
“Are you too afraid to do it?” I asked. “It’s okay, April. I promise, I won’t hurt you. The worst? I’ll tickle you.”
“You’ll tickle me?” April asked. “Good luck.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Sebby… step away.”
“Not a chance,” I said.
I jumped closer to her.
Then back.
Then closer again…
Then back again.
April shook her head. She rolled her eyes.
She took a drink and put her glass down too.
“There we go,” I said. “I want to see these moves in action. On me this time.”
I knew the things I said had a very obvious sexual undertone.
Oh well.
“Make fists,” I said. “Swing at me. Let’s go. I’m a hockey player. I’ve fought many times.”
April stood still. Quiet.
Just staring at me.
“You’re going to make me make the first move here?” I asked. “That’s okay. I’m not afraid of that at all.”
