Page 45 of Power Moves
‘It’s fine,’ replies Archie. ‘Gives me something to do.’ His palms are moving up and down my arm, sliding up, sliding back. His fingertips are remarkably soft. I know he hasn’t played rugby league for years but I figured he was the kind of guy who’d go home and chuck a ball against a wall for six hours. I was expecting calluses.
‘This feels very …’Intimateis what I’m thinking, but I need another word. ‘Weird,’ I decide.
Archie shrugs, throws the paper towel into the bin and grabs another, wets it, and resumes his position.
‘Next,’ he commands.
I switch the jar into my now-clean hand and place my dirty one in front of him.
Archie takes it and starts gently circling the paper towel over my palm. He’s going so slowly and carefully, it’s like he’s trying to read my fortune. I watch him intently. For such a fidgety guy, he’s laser-focused. He takes my pinky finger, wraps the damp paper towel around it and carefully presses the moisture into my skin, then he rubs the paper up and down. After each finger, he stops, lifts my hand to his eyes, and inspects his work before moving on.
As he slides the paper towel over my forefinger his eyes flicker up to mine and he smiles. I can’t help it; I smile too. Wisecracking tough guy, Archibald Cohen, is basically giving me a hand massage. His movements are so purposeful, thiswould almost be erotic if I didn’t have a homemade tampon stuck up my nose.
‘Is this part of the New Friends Game?’ I ask, unable to help myself. ‘Do you do this with all your new friends?’
‘No, I have much better moves for my new friends.’
‘Blergh.’ I pretend to vomit. The movement dislodges the tissue paper from my nose and I find that the bleeding has stopped so I quickly throw the dirty paper in the bin. ‘I bet you have a satin dressing gown that you save especially for first dates. Or do you find a way to get shirtless? Do you show them your football trophies?’ I wrinkle my nose and shake my head. ‘You don’t need to answer that, actually. I don’t want to know.’
Archie chuckles and turns my hand over. ‘What would be acceptable to you on a first date, Ms Hatton?’
My temple has stopped thumping so I place the glass jar on the bench, as Archie continues rubbing my knuckles.
I shrug. ‘My first dates are pretty PG,’ I admit. ‘Eye-gazing is good. Some hand-holding. Possibly a cheeky kiss—but only if I’m really feeling it.’
Archie lifts up my fingers and runs his thumb over a crease in my palm. ‘You realise we’re way past the hand-holding stage, right?’
My automatic reaction is to laugh but then I notice Archie’s eyes. They’re dark and focused and he’s not smiling, which makes no sense because Archie isalwayssmiling. A strange sensation flutters down my spine. Archie shifts closer to the bench. His body is perilously close to mine. My spare hand tries to grip something but there’s only the cold white laminate underneath me.
Is Archie …?
WHAT?!
I think I’ve stopped breathing. God damn those rapid-fire champagnes and Archie’s stupidly conventional good looks, I have no idea what’s going on. This isArchie, this is my nemesis, the man whose apparent mission in life is to destroy me and my boss, this is too—
OHHHH!
It’s like a floodlight has flicked on, and I’m blinded by the realisation of what’s really happening. He’s messing with me. Like always. This is what we do. It’s a constant game of chicken.
Give me your story.
Give me your deadline.
Give me your scoop.
Give me your source.
We’re always calling each other’s bluff.
Aha!Well, two can play at that game, Archibald.
‘I guess we are,’ I say, my voice syrupy sweet. I present my free hand to him with my palm facing the sky like an offering—a Trojan horse—and watch as a tiny crease forms on his forehead. Ever so gradually, he lifts his own free hand. I have never seen him move this slowly. Is he giving me time to back out? If so, he’s significantly underestimated who he’s messing with.
He places his palm carefully on mine. I tilt my head, amused. Suddenly his thumb and forefinger squeeze the pressure point in my palm. I inhale sharply.That was cheating, Archibald.That move was almost pornographic. I concentrateon my exhale to steady my breathing. The air around us is taut with tension but I can’t have him thinking he’s winning.
I part my legs slightly and the fabric of my dress swishes to the side, exposing my thigh. Archie glances at it and I see a muscle tense in his neck.Ha!I decide to amp it up. I wiggle towards him so I’m at the point where I could basically wrap my legs around him and order him to take me right now, right here, in the white-tiled bathroom.
Archie swallows hard. I wonder when one of us is going to speak. Normally we both have so much to say—especially to each other—but this is a brand-new game. I don’t seem to need to blink. In fact, I couldn’t care less about blinking. My eyes are deadlocked on his and they’re not moving until I memorise his every eyelash. I am going to memorise those lips and that nose and that jaw and those cheekbones. I will memorise the wave in his hair, and the slope of his shoulders. If you quiz me tomorrow, I’ll be able to describe every part of him. I could file a police report, and the constable would shake my hand to commend me on my powers of recall.
