Page 66 of Fraternizing with the Enemy
A surprised chuckle burst from him. “You were wrong about mini golf,” he pointed out. “And about the arcade. I’m sure?—”
“Do not say you’resure, Logan Castle, because you will be wrong.”
“And here I thought someone wanted exposure therapy,” Logan continued, attacking from a different angle.
“I’m going to needactualtherapy if I go in there.”
He shut his eyes briefly to fight off his amusement. “Someone voted Most Likely To: Peak in High School would never set foot in here.”
It wasn’t a dig, only because of the way he’d said it—light, leading. “Nice try,” I told him, not buying the psychology he was trying to pull.
“How about this?” Logan took a step closer to me, so our hands rested between us instead of pulled taut. “After this, we do whatever you want to do.”
It didn’t seem like a fair trade. Three dweeb dates compared to me finally getting to pick. Unless—“What if I say I want to go get manicures?”
Logan blinked, alarm filling his gaze. And he tried to tamp itdown. “I—I’d say sure.”
For the first time since the awning game into view, I smiled. I turned his hand over, examining his cuticles. “Your skin tone would look good with pink polish.”
“Woah, no. Nopolish, just?—”
“Too late.” I started forward, now tugginghimafterme. “Let’s go, Dragon Boy.”
I was expecting a bell to chime when we pushed the door open to the game shop, like how it did at Expresso’s.
Instead, it was… worse. Way worse. Instead of a sweet little bell, a deep, booming horn sounded—like the opening of some dramatic, medieval battle.
Logan cleared his throat. “I should’ve warned you about that.”
“You think this is funny, don’t you?”
The little dork was fighting a smile. “No, ‘course not.”
I squeezed his hand hard enough that he weakened under my grip, but still laughed.Jerk.
The shop itself wassmall, more hole-in-the-wall size than an actual store. There was only enough room for two aisles with a long shelf in between, and every square inch of the store was filled withsomething. Action figures in boxes, action figures outside of boxes, signs on the wall, board games—the geekiness spread over every surface.
“Who goes there!” a grand voice boomed almost as loud as the horn. A large man walked out of the back room, slapping aside the hanging beads that separated the space. “Ah, ‘tis Logan the Great!”
Oh my gosh. Manicures weren’t even worth this level of cringe.
The man was wearing a grayish-green cloak, one that looked a size or two too small, with the hood up over hishead. His pants were dark brown and tight, cut off just underneath his knees, and he had on a pair of black slides.
“Cloak of invisibility?” I asked wearily, feeling my soul wither as the words came out.
The man’s face immediately twisted in offense. “This is an Elven Cloak from Lothlórien,” he told me, smoothing his palms down the fabric almost reverently. “Does this look like an Invisibility Cloak to you?”
I slowly lifted my flat gaze to Logan.
Logan pressed his lips together to keep from grinning, looking like he was having the time of his life. “She’s still learning,” Logan said, patting my hand. I almost snatched it back to smack him. “Noah placed an order last week. He asked me to swing by and pick it up.”
“He called me,” the guy confirmed with a sage nod. “Mind the store for me while I get it from the back, kay, kid? You’re the party leader until I return. Don’t let the goblins loot the place.”
Party leader. Goblins.Cringe.
When he disappeared back through the beads, Logan rocked back on his heels, still fighting his smile. “Invisibility Cloak was a good guess.”
This time, I did pull my hand from his grip to smack him.
