Page 39 of Power Moves
‘This okay?’ I ask, as he climbs out and pulls on his suit jacket.
He walks around the bonnet of the car towards me, his expression inscrutable. ‘Uh, yep. You’re all good.’
I wrinkle my nose. ‘I look like a Christmas tree, don’t I?’
Archie chuckles quietly, shaking his head. ‘Ms Hatton,’ he says, adopting his fake-posh voice. ‘You look better than all my Christmases combined.’ He smiles and presents his arm to me, as if I should hold on to it.
Frowning, I accept his silent dare. I gingerly place my fingertips on his sleeve. My face says:See? I can play this game. No big deal.My body says:Arm. Good.
I fasten my grip on his sleeve and his smile creeps higher. With every lift of his lips, his words reverberate louder in the back of my mind.You look better than all my Christmases combined.Heat swarms my neck, and I am preposterously glad it’s dark, because is there anything more pathetic than having a physical reaction to a fake compliment? I try to exhale the idiotic buzz from my ribcage. ‘Okay, real question this time, Archibald. Pausing the New Friends Game—is this dress too slutty?’
I step away to give him a better view, but mainly as an excuse to end the whole arm-touching thing.
Archie coughs. ‘I don’t know how to answer that.’
‘Be honest,’ I say. ‘I need to know whether I should wear a jacket during the photos. And I already know you’re completely unattracted to me, so I won’t be offended by anything you say.’
‘What the hell?’ splutters Archie. ‘Since when have I been completely unattracted to you?’
I wince, remembering that night in the pub under the frangipani tree. ‘I promise I’m not offended. All men have types, and I am obviously not yours, and that’s fine because we’re mortal enemies. But really, does it look okay?’ I take another step back so he can get a full top-to-bottom visual.
‘It’s fine,’ he mutters.
‘You’re not looking!’
‘Okay,’ yelps Archie. ‘It’s great. You look … You look …’
‘Like a desperate Christmas tree whose Hinge bio readsI have two modes: lights off and flashing?’
Archie closes his eyes and presses his fingertips to his eyelids. ‘Millsy, I swear …’
‘All right,’ I interrupt. ‘I get it. I’ll stand in the back row. Let’s go,’ I say, striding ahead.
‘Millsy, wait up.’
‘Let’s go back to Ms Hatton now. I’m a bit shitty with you for hating my dress.’
‘Millsy—’
‘Ms Hatton.’
‘Okay, Ms Hatton. Can you please wait for me?’
‘Why?’
‘Because I thought we could walk in together.’
‘Oh, I get it,’ I say, the realisation dawning. ‘You don’t want to be the last one to arrive.’
My eyes flick to the entrance of the building where the wide glass door is framed by ornamental plants in Grecian-style pots. It’s thirty metres away at most. I’m pretty good in these heels too. I start to shuffle backwards, aiming for the door. Archie’s eyes widen and I see the lightbulb flick on when he realises what I’m doing.
‘Millsy—’
Now!I start running towards the entrance, and I can hear Archie running behind me.
‘You’re a fucking weirdo, Millsy!’
‘I just enjoy beating you, Archibald!’ I call over my shoulder. I lunge at the door to push it open, but Archie’s hand lands on mine and holds the door shut.
