Scrabble

Chapter 8

“Never?” she asked disbelievingly. “Never,” he confirmed. She rolled her eyes at him. “That’s impossible.”

“Why?” he smirked, leaning back cockily. “Is it because I’m just that hot?”

“No!” Megan denied, angry with herself for giving him that opening to have a jab at her. “I mean...” she sighed helplessly. “You know why!”

Gizmo leant forward, tapping her cheek consolingly. “Calm down, Megs, I was just teasing.” He smiled genuinely, causing Megan’s breath to catch in her throat.

‘Now hold it right there,’ Megan lectured herself. Breath catching in throat? ‘What am I?’, she mused, ‘a romance novelist?’

‘I’m Megan L. Couldron,’ she reminded herself, ‘My breath does not catch in my throat.’

But there was no denying it...

Megan took a deep breath. ‘If I admit it to myself, it’ll be easier,’ she coaxed herself. ‘Okay,’ she thought decisively, ‘just admit it.’

Gizmo was hot.

Her cheeks burned as she raised her eyes to meet his, looking away immediately. She couldn’t believe she had actually thought that! If Holly was here, she would be jumping around and squealing at the top of her voice. Megan knew that Holly would be intensely pleased with her.

‘I’m turning into a Holly’, she whined to herself. ‘The Mayans were right...the world is coming to an end...’

What was Gizmo doing to her? Stupid English boy...

*

Gizmo bit onto his tongue. He made her blush! Again! He felt like doing the Boogie Woogie. That was how happy he felt. So probably he did have an effect on her.

And she was this close to admitting that he did, indeed, have good looks. But then she got angry. At whom? Herself?

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes searching her face as it flushed. She caught his eyes, then looked away again, making him wonder what thoughts were running through her head.

“Whose turn?” he wondered, breaking the excruciating silence.

“Yours,” she informed him, avoiding eye contact. He sighed to himself; he really did mess it up this time. And his Boogie-Woogie-ing self was down on his knees, begging her for forgiveness.

He snorted inwardly. What on earth was he thinking? He was Gizmo. He didn’t beg for forgiveness.

‘There’s a first time for everything...’ a tiny voice snickered at him. He snapped out of his thoughts, sighing angrily.

Megan was bringing out too many complex emotions in him.

“Okay, what’s your favourite colour?”

Three hundred different voices burst out laughing inside Gizmo. He shook his head sadly at himself, before smiling at her. She still hadn’t returned her eyes to his.

“Bluish-green,” she answered, grinning slightly. Her eyes were now fixed on a certain spot on the blanket between the two of them. “What’s yours?”

“Red,” he announced, before rushing in to add, “Dark green and black too.” That was close...

What was wrong with him? If he continued this way, he would break everything he had struggled to build ever since he had met Megan. He couldn’t let that happen. Not yet.