Page 25 of Resist
I rolled my eyes. “I assure you, it won’t.”
He laid the cloth napkin on the table in front of us and handed me a toothpick. “Would you be so kind as to check it’s not broken or fake?”
Humouring him, I did. “It’s a normal, unbroken toothpick.”
“Good.” He placed it in the centre of the napkin, folded the corners in, then carefully picked up the napkin by holding the toothpick encased within it before handing it to me. “Now, can you feel the toothpick underneath the cloth?”
I squeezed my fingers. “Yes.”
“Break it.”
“What?”
He nodded toward the napkin. “Break it.”
I did as I was told and snapped the little wooden rod, hearing it splinter.
“Are you satisfied it’s broken?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Hand it back to me.”
Again, I did as I was told and passed him the napkin. He waved his other hand over it in a circular motion then clicked his fingers while waggling his eyebrows.
I scoffed. “Really?”
His dimples popped like bubbles, and I was completely transfixed by the beauty of them. They transformed his face like a kid on Christmas day.
“Aren’t you supposed to say ‘Abracadabra’ or something dorky like that?”
“Abracadabra is for amateurs.”
“And you’re …?”
“Awesome. I’m awesome.”
I laughed. “We’ll see about that.”
He winked as he offered the napkin to me, as if he were presenting a prized pie, and instructed me to unfold it. “Open it up.”
I bit my bottom lip and lifted the corners of the white cloth to find a perfect, intact toothpick in the middle.
“Nooooo.” I snatched it from the napkin to inspect it, unable to find a single crack or split. “What? How did you—”
“Magic.”
“There’s no such thing,” I said, tossing the toothpick onto the table.
“Clearly, there is.”
Before I could argue any further, the waitress approached our table and handed Lucas his beer. “Can I get you anything else?”
“When you bring me my molluscs, I’ll have everything I need.”
I cracked up laughing as she walked away.
“Your eyes, they twinkle like stars when you laugh.”
