Page 8 of It's In His Hiss

“Ah, they’re just overprotective,” he says, finally glancing up through a curtain of serpents that shy away at the movement. “And a bit cheeky.”

“I’m not sure I’d call them cheeky,” I reply, suppressing a smile. I lean against the counter, trying to appear casual while my heart somersaults. “They’re fascinating, though.”

“Careful,” Gordy warns playfully. “Compliments will get you everywhere with them.”

“Oh, is that so?” I tease, daring a glance at his hair, where I swear one snake winks at me—if snakes could wink. “Maybe they’ll warm up to me then.”

“Maybe.”

“You know, last night…” I begin again, this time more determined. “I enjoyed our time together, despite the… incident.”

“Me, too, Al,” he says earnestly. “It was one for the books, literally.”

“Would you want to try again? Maybe somewhere less public?” I suggest, holding my breath.

“Absolutely,” he replies.

I exhale, relief flooding through me. “My place is safe. No chance of turning innocent bystanders into artwork.”

Gordy stiffens as I watch him. I think he’s blushing, but it’s hard to tell with his green-toned skin. He clears his throat, shifting around on his feet before he turns to me. “Al, I’m sorry you had to see that. The waiter thing, I mean.” He still avoids direct eye contact. “Some gorgons struggle with their stare. I happen to be one of the unlucky ones, probably because I wasn’t born a gorgon.”

“Hey, if it’s any consolation, I’ve been known to drive people away with my puns alone.” I smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Is that your superpower?” He half-smiles, finally meeting my gaze for a fleeting second before looking down again.

“It seems like it,” I reply playfully. “But no, like I said last night, I amplify other people’s powers. Or dampen them. I have no control over it.”

“Oh, I thought you were kidding about that,”Gordy replies, quickly looking me over. The way he smiles tells me he likes my dress. Or me, maybe?

Now I’m the one smiling.

“No, I wasn’t kidding.” I finally reply, inhaling deeply before releasing my breath in awhoosh.“I wish I was.”

The air between us fills with unspoken words, a dance of glances and shy smiles. I wander to a section of the shop where paintings and art books are displayed. My fingers trace the spines, and I feel Gordy’s presence behind me, close but not touching.

“I love this one,” I murmur, pointing to a book on Renaissance art.

“Da Vinci or Michelangelo?” His voice is right by my ear.

I fight back a shiver. “Michelangelo. There’s something raw about his work.”

“Raw and passionate,” he agrees, his breath warm against my skin. “Much like this thing we’re doing here.”

“Trying to have a conversation without turning each other into lawn ornaments or bringing on the Apocalypse?” I tease, turning to face him. Our eyes meet, and he doesn’t look away immediately this time.

“Exactly.” His lips curve into a genuine smile, and it feels like a victory.

“Could be worse,” I admit, stepping back to give us some breathing room. “We could be discussing the weather.”

“True. But then we’d miss out on all the fun parts, like bonding over our love for art and avoiding petrification.”

“Can’t have that.” I laugh, feeling the tension ease away. It’s strange, this dance we’re doing, but I can’t help wanting more steps, more time to figure out the rhythm.

“Art and literature,” he says, more confidently now. “Those are safe topics, right?”

“Absolutely.” I nod, smiling wider. “And there’s plenty to talk about.”

“Plenty,” he echoes, and I see a spark of mischief in his eyes, brief but unmistakable.

---