Page 19 of Fang Fatale

He's waiting by the curb before I can lose my nerve.

Up close, he's somehow taller.

His eyes are blue.

Then not blue.

Like a storm cloud deciding whether to ruin your crops or merely your afternoon.

They're fixed on me with complete, undivided attention.

“Birdie Longfellow.”

His voice is both more pleasant and more annoying than I expected.

Like a cello that wants to be a stand-up comedian.

I keep my expression carefully neutral.

“Alaric Grimhaven.”

A beat passes.

Neither of us moves.

The entire town, I'm fairly certain, has suddenly developed urgent reasons to look through shop windows.

Finally, I nod toward the folded newspaper tucked beneath his arm.

“You know...”

He waits.

“It was upside down.”

Silence.

He slowly looks down at the newspaper.

Then back at me.

“Well.”

A tiny smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.

“I've committed now.”

Despite myself...

A laugh escapes.

It's small.

Barely more than air.

But it's there.

His smile grows just enough to notice.