Part 65 (2/2)

”Are you in character for some play or something?” she asked when I stopped speaking.

”In what?” I queried in return.

She stared at me.

She then inquired, ”Are you from England?”

I stared back at her.

It was not lost on me I was much different in manner and speech to those of this world. Until I found my footing, at times such as these, an explanation might be required.

Therefore, I gave her one.

”We both are from Lunwyn,” I shared, flinging a hand Josette's way. ”It's a land far from here. Though we speak the same language, things are much different there.”

”I've never heard of that,” she turned to her compatriot on a stool at Josette's feet. ”Have you heard of it?”

That woman shook her head.

”It's very difficult to get to. Quite, undeveloped, as it were, in comparison, of course, with your,” I threw out my other hand again, indicating the soil under the floor on which we sat, ”America.”

”Right,” she said. ”Okay.”

”So, to end, are we nearly finished?” I asked.

”Yeah, uh, just, you know, the ma.s.sage and polish. Maybe twenty minutes. But you should probably text now.”

I nodded. ”My grat.i.tude.”

”Right,” she mumbled then went back to my feet whereupon she commenced ma.s.saging them and my calves.

Marvelous.

I had to request another who worked at the establishment to help me liberate my phone from my reticule so I didn't spoil my varnish and it was not easy poking at it with wet nails.

I accomplished it, a whoosh noise happened telling me it was sent, the phone sounded in my hand, making both Josette and I grin at each other like schoolgirls, but my grin deepened when I saw Noc's name above a little bubble that was underneath my little bubble.

Be right there, sugarlips, it decreed.

Ah Noc.

My Noc.

A goodness I earned.

The best there could be.

Half an hour later, I was not thinking such kind thoughts about Noc.

I was grinding my teeth.

This was because he was laughing his a.r.s.e off, doing it carrying me to his vehicle, with me wearing brightly-colored, flimsy, weightless pieces of nothing that looked like the footwear Josette had been wearing since she donned this-world clothes, except much less substantial.

I had been shuffling along, rather gracelessly (to my utter despair), holding my shoes and my bag, until Noc took pity on me and swung me up in his arms.

He didn't take that much pity considering he did it as I'd mentioned, laughing his a.r.s.e off.

Apparently, after a pedicure was complete, you either had to wait some time for your varnish to dry or you were to arrive in footwear that would not demolish the efforts your pedicure person put into making your feet look better than they ever had. Something you'd paid no mind to all your life. Something that seemed, from the moment the last brush of varnish went on, crucial to existence.

This bringing of the appropriate footwear being something I did not do.

Noc walked me out to his car, opened the door while still carrying me, and ducking us carefully to avoid slamming us both into the roof, he deposited me in my seat.

Through this, I had ignored his existence, a difficult task considering he was carrying me, but one I pulled off with aplomb (in my estimation), until that moment when I could no longer do so since he placed his hand on my jaw and forced me to look at him.

He was still laughing.

This meant I began glaring.

”We'll get you some real flip-flops for the next time you go to a spa,” he said, continuing not to put the slightest effort into quelling his mirth.

”I've been in your world not but two days and I still can say with some authority I am not a flip-flop person,” I announced haughtily.

His waning laughter burst forth yet again and he felt, for some reason, the need to kiss me even while allowing the full force of his hilarity to continue to flow.

This he did.

When he ended it, he was only chuckling.

Regardless of the fact that his laughter tasted lovely on my tongue, I was still glaring.

He took in my glare and that made him no less amused.

”Will it help if I say you look cute, even shuffling like an invalid?” he asked.

”No...it...will...not,” I snapped.

Noc. Still no less amused.

”How about if I tell you, three hours ago, someone asked me if you could get any more beautiful, I woulda said it was an impossibility, but I've been proved wrong?”

”How about if I tell you, if you remove yourself from my vicinity, perhaps I'll no longer wish to kick you somewhere unpleasant?” I returned with false sweetness.

”Is it vanity, baby?” he queried, now only grinning, which was no less annoying, ”Or pride?” he finished.

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