Page 68 of Flirtasaurus
“Hey, buggy.”
“Aw, I love when you call me buggy.”
“Hey, Mabel,” I ask, “has Otto ever touched you?”
“Nope. Otto ‘has no need to have physical contact of any kind with any woman ever again.’”
“Alrighty then. I guess that’s official.”
“Hey, guys.”
“Hi, Ralph!” Mabel says, her near-perpetual cheer back in place.
Ralph enters, looking delicious, his hair damp like he’s come straight from a shower. He approaches the table where we’re sitting and automatically leans down like he’s going to kiss me before he realizes what he’s doing and freezes. In a ridiculous position. With his ass pushed back and his head tipped forward, he looks like the kid who performed the role of the nutcracker every year when I was a kid.
It's been a pretty awesome almost two weeks getting to know this guy. Stolen kisses after work. Talking on the phone until late each night. The other day, he even invited me to his apartment for dinner. That’s right; the man cooked for me.
But up until now, we’ve never slipped while on the museum grounds. I wonder what came over him?
Mabel and Otto stare at Ralph, who is still hovering over me like a pocketknife. Then he stands up straight, stretches, and yawns. Loudly. Like a bear coming out of hibernation. Real smooth, dude.
Otto stifles a knowing laugh. I opt to act like this is completely normal behavior, but we’re not fooling anyone at this moment. Actually, we may be fooling Mabel, but I’ve learned that’s pretty easy to do.
“You okay, Ralph?” Mabel asks sweetly. “Bad back?”
“Uh. Yeah. Yes! Terrible. Owww.” He puts a hand to his lower back and moans. This man has many talents, but lying is not one of them.
“You should do yoga. It really helps with stuff like that,” Mabel continues. “My dad is on the older side and suffers from sciatica? And on the rare occasion he actually listens to me and stretches, he really does feel so much better.”
“Yeah, Ralph. You should try stretching,” I say with a smirk.
He just gives me a look.
“Alright, team, let’s take these bags to the front and get ready to welcome our guests.”
The night goes off without a hitch. The four of us don’t really need to do much other than wander around and make people feel welcome. Most of the Dino Digger kids are here with their families, and it’s actually really sweet to see them hanging with their mommies and daddies and brothers and sisters, showing them around ‘their museum’ like tiny little six-year-old tour guides. Looks like everyone is having a blast. Even Finn, who seems to be taking a much-appreciated break from antagonizing his friends—and me—tonight.
When midnight rolls around, all is quiet, except for Mabel, who is snoring like a wildebeest. The four of us found a place to camp out by an Apatosaurus, part of the permanent display in the main Hall of Dinosaurs.
Otto is sketching. I’m writing in my notebook. Ralph is resting on his side in his sleeping bag, smiling at me and trying to coax me into spilling what I’m writing.
It ain’t gonna work, fella. But you sure are cute.
I spot a parent shuffling by with his kid clad in adorable footie pajamas. I catch eyes with him and wave. He looks spooked when he sees me and the lanyard around my next announcing me as staff.
“We cleaned it up!” he blurts.
“Huh?”
“He peed in the Hall of Mammals,” the father confesses, “but we cleaned it up.”
“No problem, sir. I’ll send a janitor that way.”
The man looks relieved and hustles his sleepy kid back to where they’re camping out for the night.
I shut my book and get to my feet. “Okay, guys, I’m going to ask Jerry at the security desk to message maintenance about a cleanup.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Ralph says as he slips out of his sleeping bag.
