"TURN HERE." Ruby reaches out to steady my hand before sticking the adhesive to paper around my wrist, tongue poking out the side of her mouth in concentration. "Got it."
"You wouldn't think it'd be so difficult to put on a wristband."
"Shut up. I'm skilled."
"Uh huh," I say.
I put her own wristband on with ease before turning around to see the rest of the group.
Marty's busy messing with Reese's, Anayah and Julia are pushing each other over something one of them said, Nick is staring at some piece of art on the wall, and Dane's in the process of putting his wristband on by himself.
We'd finally made it to the museum after a dinner that lasted a millennia (including Dane resuming his staring contest with Ruby almost as soon as he got back and Reece and I going back and forth with icebreakers until the food arrived).
The place is surrounded on all sides by glass walls, letting in the darkness of the night. Inside, the glow of lanterns and overhead lights bring warm color to the space. It feels cozy and safe and almost makes me glad I was forced here against my will.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I fish it out, stifling a laugh when I see a message from the group chat.
Marty - Ok, split up now. We can find each other later.
Oh, the lengths we go to avoid Nicholas Murphy.
I'm the first to wander off from the group, entering an adjoining room to marvel over a case full of vases, reading each of the little description tags.
Some of them have tiny, little animals tracing up the sides, the faces lopsided and mouths wide. It kind of looks like a kid made them. I quickly raise a hand to stifle a laugh before tugging out my phone to snap a quick picture.
The rest of my trip throughout the room proceeds similarly. I pace slowly, taking pictures of things I find particularly interesting and drawing closer to look at tiny details brushed on with barely perceptible brushstrokes.
I must spend a good half hour in the first room alone before deciding to move on to the next.
A thin hallway leads me to the beginning of the Ancient Egyptian exhibit, click of my shoes echoing in the close quarters until I emerge on the other end, and the echoes cease.
The exhibit hall has been shrouded in black fabric, windows almost completely covered with a couple people milling around. They speak in hushed tones, pointing at various gold-gilded tools and jewelry pieces.
I'm making myself comfortable over by a collection of rings when my ear catches the familiar squeak of a certain pair of white sneakers.
Instantly I turn, lips immediately pulling down into a frown.
"Look who it is," is Dane's greeting.
"Mm," I hum, spinning back to the rings. "You just can't stay away can you."
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him glance over at me, stuff his hands in his pockets. "Sure, I bet believing that makes you feel better about yourself."
"Believing the truth?"
"The truth, right," the words come out coated in sarcasm.
"You've probably been tailing me this whole time."
"I think I have better things to do than follow you around."
"Really?" At his overdramatized nod, I smile sweetly. "Then why did you want me to beg you to come to the museum so bad?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You wanted me to ask you on a date, remember? Don't tell me you're getting attached after a little kiss."
He bites his tongue, giving me a look. "Cleodora, I have standards."
"Oh, I'm sure."
"I do."
"Yeah, I agreed. The bar's probably so high it's approaching the immortal realm." I respond, sucking my teeth. "Honestly I pity any girl who's had to put up with you thus far."
"You shouldn't waste your energy on such unnecessary feats. I'm the perfect gentleman."
I turn to look at him. He raises his eyebrows, challenging me to argue. I raise my eyebrows back.
"That's the biggest lie you've ever told."
His lips twitch at the matter-of-fact way the words leave my mouth, and I hate the way I can feel my own lips curve upwards just slightly.
"Hand."
"What?"
"Give me your hand."
My heartbeat accelerates a twinge as Dane holds his hand out, giving me a pointed look.
"I'd rather eat a nail."
"Come on, I'll prove it to you."
"Prove what?"
"That I know what I'm doing."
I shake my head, but don't resist as his hand slides around mine, brushing my thigh and turning just so that our fingers align then lace together.
His hand fits a little too nicely with mine, and I quickly stuff the intrusive thought down into the recesses of my mind.
"You can pretend you're on a date with me. It'll be my charity work for the month."
Immediately I try to pull my hand away, but he holds on tight.
"You mean mine."
"No, I mean what I said."
"So do I." Unable to pull away from his grasp, I resort to digging my nails into the back of his hand.
"Claws," he warns, and I give him a saccharine sweet smile before pressing even harder.
He tsks at my reaction, pulling me along with him to the next display case.
There are small ivory figurines of people inside. Most with wide eyes and blank faces.
"That one looks like you." Dane points at one that's aged particularly badly, mouth chipped likely during extraction or shipment and eyes a little too big for its face.
"What a gentleman," I trill sarcastically. "I feel so special."
"That's the goal." He lays a hand on my shoulder, phantom warmth seeping to my skin through my sweatshirt. "You are special, Minha Gatinha."
My body feels prickly all over, heart lurching in my chest at the impressive sincerity of his voice.
At my silence, he draws nearer, my stomach tossing at his close breath of laughter. "Do I make you nervous, Cleodora?"
"Not at all."
His mouth flashes into one of his mean grins. "Maybe a little bit, yeah?"
I curse myself for the breathy way my voice comes out, rushing to change the topic. "What does that mean?"
"What?"
"Those...words you said."
"Minha gatinha?"
I shiver at the pronunciation again, brain finding it far too attractive for my liking. "Yes."
"You like my mother tongue, Cleodora?"
I turn my head, swallowing uncomfortably at the intensity of his gaze.
We seem to be the only ones in this exhibit hall now, and the silence is deafening.
"What language is that?"
"Don't tell me you're not smart enough to figure it out on your own."
"I don't know." I hate the way my voice wavers, quickly clearing my throat.
"That's too bad." He murmurs, face tilting even closer before he whispers. "Guess I had too much faith in you."
"Are you condescending to every girl on your dates?"
"Condescending or charming?" He pulls away, cocking his head at me like he doesn't already know my answer.
"It's no wonder you're single."
"It's a choice, Cleodora. My last girlfriend would take me back in a heartbeat."
I look over at the mention of a girlfriend, more curious than I'd like to admit. Who would have thought that mean, antisocial pessimists dated. "I find that hard to believe."
"You don't have to say you believe it, but I know you do."
"What girl in her right mind would willingly chain herself to you?"
He lifts up our hands, shaking them between us as if to answer the question. "I never said she has to be in her right mind."
With a final tug, I'm able to have my hand back, quickly stuffing it into the pocket of my sweatshirt. "Keep dreaming, asshole."
"I don't think that's how you're supposed to treat your date."
"I'll treat him however the hell I want to. Especially if he's a sucky date."
"Stop pouting. You might mess up your clown makeup."
My eyes widen at the jab before I spin back toward him to scoff. "A gentleman. Really, Dane?"
"Kidding," he says in a way that suggests he's definitely not. "Shall I instead compare thee to a summer's day?"
I give him one of my own mean smiles before showing him my middle finger and moving on to the next display. It happens to be a painting of a woman, surrounded by what looks like some hieroglyphics.
Dane follows slowly behind, leaning against the wall next to the painting. I fight to make sure my eyes don't leave the painting, that they stay trained on what's important.
"Ask me a question."
"Do you have nothing better to do?" My mission fails almost instantly the second he opens his mouth. "And what are you even saying?"
"You're supposed to get to know each other on first dates. So ask me something."
"You're the last person I'd want to know more about than I have to."
"Okay, then I'll ask you a question. What's your favorite holiday?"
I eye him suspiciously at the noninvasive question, tilting my head. "Halloween."
He hums to himself. "I'm not surprised."
"What does that mean?"
"It's fitting."
I bite the inside of my cheek, turning my gaze back toward the painting.
"Okay. My turn. What's the deal with the necklaces?"
The question seems to catch him off guard, foot propped up on the window slipping to the ground with a thump. "What?"
"You know, the one you got at the antique shop? You wear a chain like that." I motion at my own neck. "You always slip it under your shirt when you catch me looking at it."
Except when it was dangling over my face while we were making out, but, of course, I don't say that.
"Is there a reason?"
He bites his tongue, eyes moving up to the ceiling as if he's debating the consequences of answering with himself. I wait patiently for his consensus, starting to come to terms with the fact that I should have asked a different question. Just as I'm about to change the subject, though, he speaks.
"Okay, fine, we're doing this. But disclaimer—it's a long fucking story."
***
yo this week was wild i'm ngl, i thought i'd be able to get this chapter out a couple days ago but lmao nah it's here now tho and that's what matters right? 😳
anyway yeah 🙏🕯 manifestations for getting next chapter done quick
alsoooo hand-holding? :^)
dane: plz hold my hand
also dane: lmfao your makeup looks really bad
btw i have not read over this so if you see embarrassing mistakes...no you don't ❤️