Page 85 of Potions and Proposals
Benedict smirked, taking it from her. “I was going to dilute it, but I figured we have a long night ahead of us.” It was a little after seven, and they’d still have to check out the festival grounds after the dance to make sure what they’d spent weeks planning went off without a hitch.
“Thanks for telling me after the fact.”
“Who was I to get in the way of your rebellious act?” He poured some of the liquor into two cups and topped his off with alarmingly fluorescent pumpkin punch. For hers, he added the spiced apple punch instead.
“I’m sorry,” Lucinda said suddenly.
“For what?”
“For thinking you were making fun of me when you invited me to the dance during the assembly in our final year.” Her apology caught him off guard; he hadn’t thought about the incident in years. “I assumed it was a prank, especially when all your friends laughed.”
“I got that impression when you stormed off and left me in the crowd looking like an asshole. You didn’t even get to see me telling them to shut the hell up.” He drank to drown out his own embarrassment at the memory.
“I didn’t think you’d ever ask me. That was the same week that I gave you—-”
“You gave me Greko. And in my teenage, grief-riddled brain I told you to piss off and leave me alone when I should have thanked you.” He smiled sadly.
They went quiet, both thinking of the tiny lizard she’d gifted him when his dad passed away.
“I wanted to say thank you. I thought about writing to you, since we couldn’t manage to get through one conversation without arguing. I also couldn’t muster the courage to call in case Grams or your mum picked up the house phone.” Remembering how much thought he’d put into it, Benedict couldn’t believe it had taken him so many years to figure out his feelings for her. “Anyway, Peter mentioned you were upset about no one asking you to the festival dance, and I wanted to make up for how I spoke to you and to thank you for Greko.”
Lucinda nodded solemnly. “I wanted to have fun just as much as everyone else. I wouldn’t have ratted on anyone.” He hated that she knew many believed she was a goody-goody who’d run back to tell her High Priestess mummy if anyone used their magic recklessly. “I’m sorry I assumed the worst of you,” she added.
“Me too. I thought when you stormed off you were mortified to be asked by a Matherson to the dance.”
“Look at us, acting all adult.” Lucinda nudged him, breaking the tension. “Why couldn’t we have done this before?”
“Because we were too busy competing. We should do a round of the room, so at least it looks like we’re doing our job,” he said, his hand grazing hers as they walked around the hall, enjoying the atmosphere of the spooky classics.
“I wouldn’t say it was much of a competition,” Lucinda teased.
His hand settled on her back, playing with her corset strings. “I don’t know how you can breathe in this thing,” he said, eyeing her cleavage without a shred of discretion.
“Stop flirting with me. People will talk.” He felt her shiver against his touch.
“I can’t resist,” he teased, inching closer.
“I should’ve taken that flask from you. I’ll have to add that you flirt when tipsy to my list of new discoveries about you.”She took his hand, before he started pawing at her again. “It has nothing to do with the flask, and everything to do with the dress.” He leaned in, and her eyes widened. Clearly, she thought he was going to kiss her in front of everyone. But he stopped short. “And the woman in it.”
Lucinda swallowed, and he loved watching her struggle to string a response together.
Before she could say anything, his eye was drawn to a group of kids by the back door, laughing. They couldn’t be older than twelve, but there was something sinister in the laughter that caused both Benedict and Lucinda to approach the group.
“Give it back,” one of the boys pleaded, but another boy in a Peter Pan costume pushed him back.
Benedict put a hand on Lucinda’s arm, stopping her from interceding. She glared at him, but he didn’t want to make it worse for the kid.
“Why? It’s a fake pin. You think your scales prove anything?” one of the bigger boys snarled, pointing at the scarred skin on the side of the boy’s neck.
“It’s a birthmark, not scales! This birthmark and my family pin means we used to fight dragons!”
The group laughed again. Benedict admired the kid’s guts; he was smaller and outnumbered, but he didn’t cower or run away.
“That’s just a myth! Dragons are long gone– there’s no proof of anyone fighting them,” a younger girl said, her words whistling through a missing tooth. “You could’ve got the pin anywhere.”
Lucinda slipped her hand into Benedict’s, and he realised he’d clenched his fists. He hated seeing anyone bullied or accused of lying. He would’ve been a social outcast himself, if he hadn’t excelled in every way he could.
“You don’t have to be so mean.” The boy’s jaw wobbled. “Just give me back my pin. It was my grandad’s! I’m telling the truth.”
