Page 98 of How To Tackle A Crush
Mum sighs. “That would be because you took a cracker with caviar on it before I could stop you.”
Alfie makes a face like he’s reliving a trauma.
“I thought it was chocolate sprinkles.”
Ava presses her lips together, shoulders shaking slightly.
“And then you spat it into a napkin,” Mum continues.
“It was very bad,” Alfie says firmly. “Very, very bad.”
“What else did they have?” Ava asks.
“They had gallops,” he says.
“Scallops,” Mum corrects gently.
“That,” he agrees. “But I didn’t try them.”
“Sensible,” I say.
“I stayed with the burgers,” he says. “And the desserts.”
Of course he did.
“They hadlotsof desserts,” he continues. “But they were all in tiny kids glasses.”
Ava smiles. “Tiny kids glasses?”
He nods. “Granny said it’s because they don’t want people to take too many.”
Mum mutters into her tea, “That didn’t stop you.”
Alfie glances at her, then leans slightly towards Ava and me like he’s sharing state secrets.
“I had six,” he whispers.
I bite back a laugh.
“Six?” I repeat quietly.
He nods, very pleased with himself.
“They were very small,” he explains, which clearly justifies everything.
Ava is smiling at him like he’s the most entertaining person she’s ever met.
And I could get very used to this.
By the time we get to Ava’s room, I know I’m done for.
Not in a dramatic way. Just in the quiet, dangerous way where a woman looks at you from across a hotel room and you realise you would make some very questionable decisions just to keep that look on her face.
Alfie had stretched bedtime like only a five-year-old can. One story. Two extra questions. A discussion about whether triceratops could beat a lion. Then the serious business.
“You have to come tomorrow,” he’d told Ava, holding up a finger like he was making a legal contract. “You have to swear.”
“I swear,” she’d said.
