Dangerous Play

24 » open invitations

He nodded. "Good idea. So, what happens after translation?"

"Well, you can have these things called post-translational modifications..."

Later, after Maddox had packed up his things and left, I headed to Homer's to catch up on some homework assignments. I could have just stayed in the Claremont Hill library, but I was seriously craving an iced vanilla latte. Besides, I was justified in buying a drink because I would be doing homework.

Or so I told myself. I had barely sat down at a table with the coffee and cracked open my tattered copy of Don Quixote when my phone buzzed. I wrestled with the instinct to ignore it, but eventually curiosity won out and I looked at the notification.

Kieran: are you done with tutoring?

Abby: just finished, whats up?

Kieran: I have something to ask you. can we meet somewhere? nothing bad, I promise

I frowned. That wasn't very reassuring. I wondered what Kieran wanted to talk about that couldn't just be said over text.

Abby: sure, i'm at Homer's if u want to join

Kieran: see you in 15 :)

Well, if he was going to fake break up with me, he wouldn't have added a smiley face, so I could rule out that possibility... probably. Besides that, I couldn't imagine what else this would be about.

With a shrug, I tried to refocus on Don Quixote. Our lovely protagonist, Don Quixote himself, was waging war against some windmills that he thought were giants. Apparently this was one of the most famous stories in the book, but to me it just seemed like Cervantes was on some kind of hardcore drugs while writing.

By the time my fake boyfriend strolled through the doors of the coffee shop, I had barely made it through half of the chapter. Kieran set his motorcycle helmet on the table and slid into the seat across from me with a grin. A couple dark curls of hair stuck out at odd angles, having gotten caught when he pulled the helmet off. "How's Don Quixote?"

"He's tilting at windmills, whatever that means."

"Oh, I love that scene. May I?" He held out a hand.

I gave him the book, already open to the chapter I had been reading. Kieran skimmed the page and cleared his throat. "Y, en diciendo esto, y encomendándose de todo corazón a su señora Dulcinea, pidiéndole que en tal trance le socorriese, bien cubierto de su rodela, con la lanza en el ristre, arremetió a todo el galope de Rocinante y embistió con el primero molino que estaba delante."

Privately, I thought I might actually enjoy the story if Kieran was the narrator. His accent slipped in as he read, softening the "s" sound into more of a "th" and lending a musical quality to his voice. I'd heard my classmates complain about how annoying the almost-lisp was to them when we watched videos in Spanish class, but I had always found it endearing.

He closed the book and slid it back across the table. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

"It's all good," I said, returning the novel to my backpack. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Kieran ran a hand through his hair. I was beginning to realize that was something he did when he was uncomfortable or in an awkward situation. Finn was the same way, though he would then spend the next five minutes fixing all the hairs he had pushed out of place. Honestly, sometimes I swore my brother spent more time in front of a mirror than I did.

Kieran cleared his throat. "I need a favor."

I raised an eyebrow. "Do you remember what happened the last time we were here and you asked for a favor? That's what started this entire scheme in the first place."