Page 2 of Haunted By the Highwayman
“This seems to be some kind of dare game,” I say.
Rick nods. “The previous tenants must’ve left them here.”
I flick through the cards. Most of the dares seem standard enough, if a bit dopey. Compliment a stranger, climb a tree,go outside wearing your underwear over your pants like a superhero... Then I reach a section of red cards at the back of the pack. My hands freeze, while my cheeks burst into flame.
“What is it?” Rick says.
“There seems to be a, er…spicysection here at the back.”
I choke on the wordspicy. What’s wrong with me? I’m twenty-three years old and acting like a pre-teen. Rick laughs at the cards, and my hopes plummet off a cliff. He just thinks this is funny. He isn’t imagining any of these scenarios involving me. Not like I’m imagining him. I take a quick step back, away from the warmth of his hazel eyes.
“I don’t know why they left these. Why did they think that other people would want to see this stuff?” I snap.
I sound moody and aggravated, a weird mix of surly teenager and uptight old man.
“They probably just forgot them,” Rick says, looking surprised at my annoyance. He holds up a red card which saysFUCK. “Fancy a shag?” His attempt at an English accent is truly woeful, so bad it’s endearing.
“You sound like Dick van Dyke in Mary Poppins,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“A really old movie… never mind,” I say hurriedly.
He’s wrinkling his brow in thought. Endlessly curious, always hating to miss out on anything, he’ll probably suggest watching it if I don’t change the subject fast. There’s a short silence. Through the wall the sound of a TV or laptop leaks through, way too loud. By the sounds of violent arguing, I deduce that our neighbors are watching Eastenders.
“You know, we should play this,” Rick says, brandishing the cards at me.
“I don’t want to go around complimenting strangers,” I protest. “Sounds embarrassing.”
“I was talking about the red cards,” he says.
Somehow I manage to stay upright even though my legs have dissolved entirely. Doesn’t that break the laws of physics? No idea. Everything I ever knew about science oranythinghas fled my brain as I think about playing those red cards with Rick.
“You’re kidding,” I croak, my mouth mysteriously dry. “Stop pranking me already.”
Rick’s dimple makes an appearance, not helping my traitorous body to calm down. He runs one hand through his hair, bicep rippling. It’s like he’s doing this on purpose to mess with me. Though why would he? He doesn’t know I like him…
Fuck. Does heknow?
“I’m not pranking you,” he says, eyes dancing.
Don’t fall for it. I’m fooling myself if I think he means this. Sailing fast up that river of denial. Have I forgotten the spider already? This is just more mockery. It’s like he can never forget I’m his best friend’s little brother. Like it’s my destiny to put up with his teasing forever. But I’m an adult now. A postgrad student, no less. And I have my dignity.
I turn back to the sink and grab a mug to wash, just to give myself something to do. I’m so flustered I drop it into the sink with a huge clunk. I hold my breath, waiting for it to smash into a thousand pieces. Luckily it doesn’t. I put a hand to my head, feeling stupid and tense. Then Rick’s arms are around me, randomly but not unpleasantly, as he reaches around me to pick up the mug. There’s no need for the cage-like embrace. There’s definitely no need for my dick to pay so much notice to his touch.
“Can I help you?” I say, icily.
“Just thought you needed a little soothing,” he says, stooping down to whisper right into my ear. “You’re getting all twitchy and antsy.”
Yes, and his proximity isn’t making that issue any better. My body hums, feeling itself happily trapped in his arms.
“I’m notantsy,” I lie shamelessly.
I wriggle out of his grip. My face is on fire. At least the blush doesn’t show too much on my skin. One of the benefits of Sri Lankan heritage. Rick isn’t blushing at all, his light tan skin the same shade as ever. His coolness is too annoying.
“Hey, it’s no big deal,” he says. “It’s just a mug.”
Is he really this clueless? Even Rick couldn’t be this clueless. Could he? I stare up into his eyes. He seems to be genuinely wondering what’s up with me. Although… is there a glint of something deeper, more knowing, behind the concerned stare? The moment stretches. Through the wall, Stacey is still arguing with someone on Eastenders.
