Kingdom Keepers VII(4)
“Can you believe how long we’ve known each other?” Finn asks, and then feels stupid. “Sorry! That came out awkward.”
“No it didn’t.”
“I just meant—”
“I know what you meant—what you mean. I know you, remember? You mean that we’ve been friends—just friends—for a long time now. That both of us…that sometimes it doesn’t feel exactly like friends.” Amanda giggles softly. Nervously.
For Finn, the sound of her laughter is sweeter than any of the songs the DJ has played.
“So I’m just going to say it,” Amanda continues.
“Why don’t you?”
Another giggle. He wills the song to keep playing. He wants this dance to go on for the rest of the night.
“We’re more than just friends,” she says.
“We are.” Can she hear his heart beating?
“But we’ve kept it like this because to lose this isn’t worth what we might gain by it not being like this. Does that make any sense?”
“It does.” Did it just get hotter in here? Is anyone else sweating the way he is? “But things change.”
“They do,” she says.
She can’t look at him. Is that good or bad? he wonders. “And as much as we’d like for things to stay the same, that isn’t how it works.”
“No,” she says.
He’s not sure how to take that. Does she mean that’s not how it works? Did he overstep? He says, “It could ruin things, right?”
“Totally.”
“And that would be horrible. The worst thing ever.”
“The apocalypse.”
They laugh. The couple next to them shoots them a look that says, Shut up!
“Vampires,” he says. He kisses her neck, pretending to bite her.
“Werewol—” His kiss catches her off guard. She stops talking so quickly that it sounds as if she inhaled an insect. “Do that again,” she whispers. “Please.”
“I was just kidding around.”
“Oh…”
The moment passes. Finn could slap himself. She asked you to bite her neck again, you jerk! So he aims for the same spot.
“No!” She stops him. “Never mind.”
They dance through a chorus and another verse. “See?” Finn says, “I’d be horrible at this.”
“I had to stop you because I didn’t want to faint on the dance floor.”
It takes him a few seconds to process this. He relaxes. She isn’t angry. She isn’t going to walk off the dance floor and leave him standing alone.
“Maybe just friends is a good thing,” he says.
“Definitely.”
He leans back so that he can see her eyes. Colored lights spin across her face. She seems to be glowing from within. Finn knows it’s just an effect of the lighting, but he convinces himself it’s more than that. They’ve stopped dancing despite the continuing music. She didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean it. This is it: the moment. He never quite pictured it like this. But here it is. Their heads move slowly closer. Her lips part ever so slightly. He can’t believe it’s finally going to happen—again, now—a lifetime after their first kiss.
“Finn!”
Finn and Amanda jump away from each other. Whatever they just had shatters into pieces on the floor and melts away. Finn can’t breathe—but he could put a fist through Philby’s face.
What is he doing here? Philby doesn’t even go to their school. And he isn’t dressed up for a prom; he’s dressed the way he always is, like…well, like Philby: preppie, with the Scottish air that comes from his red hair and freckles. But Philby has clearly finally hit his long-delayed growth spurt—he looks like he’s grown about six inches since the end of the DHIs’ Disney cruise. In fact, all the Keepers look different now, Finn realizes. It’s like they’re not themselves anymore.
Except Amanda. She’s the same person, but somehow better than back then. Amazing Amanda.
“What the—?” Finn is trying to process the interruption.
Philby keeps his voice low so that the nearby dancers cannot hear him over the throbbing music. But Finn hears, Amanda hears. “Your phone,” Philby hisses in a patronizing tone.
“I’m dancing here,” Finn says, gesturing toward Amanda, whom Philby has yet to acknowledge.
“Hey, Mandy,” Philby says. “Sorry.” Polite, gentlemanly. Then back to Finn, and now he’s condescending again. “Your phone is off.”
“It’s on Do Not Disturb. As in: Do Not Disturb!”
“Something’s going down. They need us.” Philby looks at his friends intently. “They need us to take a ‘nap.’”