Page 31 of Witch You Would
“That happens to me a lot.” Also I sometimes missed my mouth and spilled water down my shirt. Like a boss.
“So you don’t have mad flirt skills,” he said finally. “Me either. Maybe we should practice?”
I’d known he was probably faking being a himbo, but every time he said something reasonable, it still surprised me.
“Practice is good,” I said. “We need to get comfortable, like... looking flirty? Touching each other? Not inappropriately,just, you know, being in each other’s personal space?” I was suddenly extremely aware of how close we were sitting, the smellof his... aftershave? Cologne? Deodorant? I had a good nose—helpful for a spell technician—and I could pick out applesand lavender and something woodsy.
“I can hit you with some extremely bad pickup lines?” he suggested. “My friend Sam collects them.”
I could never. “Okay.”
“Be warned, these are really bad.” He gave me an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle. “Hey, girl, I lost my phone number. Can I haveyours?”
I covered my mouth. “Oh my god. Bro.”
“What about . . .” He narrowed his eyes, like he was trying fora smolder. “Are you from Tennessee? ’Cause you’re the only ten I see.”
“I do not believe a human being has ever said that unironically. No way.”
“Damn, girl, you look like trash. Want me to take you out?”
I snort-laughed. “How does anyone come up with these? They’re fake. Tell me they’re fake.”
“I don’t know, but Sam has a million of them.” Leandro grinned. “I should probably save some for later.”
“Smart.”
“Vans are back!” someone yelled from the doorway. “Let’s get talent to the lobby!”
As I put my apron away, Leandro’s smile faded again. He looked like a kid who’d dropped his ice cream and was trying to bea big boy about it. Thinking about fangirls? Worrying about the round, or how to be flirty?
Whatever it was, I sort of hated it. He always seemed cheerful, even when his spells went wrong. Like he knew he was a clown,that the joke was on him, but he liked to make people laugh and he could laugh at himself, too. Maybe this was Leandro whenhis mask slipped. He’d smiled at my apron, though, and his funny-awful pickup lines. I wanted to get that back.
“We need a secret handshake,” I blurted out.
Leandro blinked at me like I’d slapped him with his rubber chicken. “A secret handshake?”
“Or not, I mean, if you don’t want to—”
“No, I love it!” His face lit up again. “We could... Do you know how to dance? Salsa?”
“Yeah, for sure.” Unlike my sister. I just didn’t get out much because of work. And after last night, I already knew he hadmoves.
“How about this.” He held out his right hand. I took it, then he put out his other hand above it without letting go. I grabbed that one, so our arms were crossed, one hand on top of the other. He brought my left arm up and over my head slowly as he turned me around so I was facing away from him, then raised my right arm and kept turning me until I faced him with our arms crossed again, but reversed from how we’d started. We stared at each other for a few seconds, and I wondered what he was thinking, because I was kinda wishing we could actually dance together. With music. And less stress.
Was he looking at my mouth? No way, not after that lecture about fangirls and underwear. Get it together, Penelope.
“Then what?” I asked.
“And then we can, hmm, blow it up?” He tossed my hands up and made an explosion sound while he wiggled his fingers in theair.
I laughed. “Okay, I think I can remember that.”
“Let’s try it faster?” he suggested. “To practice.”
We did, and by the third time we had it down. A couple of PAs clapped and hooted at us, and I blushed while Leandro gave theman elaborate bow. Felicia, standing nearby, rolled her perfectly mascaraed eyes.
“So should we do that when we win a round, or when we do something cool, or what?” I asked.
