Wild Thing

The blistering weekend sun had subsided by Monday, but my irritation hadn’t. I was still seething as Natalie and I made our way through the shaded trees of Wade Park looking for the ice cream cart.

“I can’t believe I missed Machine-freaking-Gun Kelly saving you!”

“I still can’t believe you missed me almost being kidnapped,” I added tersely. She quieted for only a moment, embarrassed. We’d only walked a few more paces before she started up again.

“And you didn’t even get a picture with him?! An autograph? A hug?”

“Nope. But I tell you what Nat, the next time someone saves me from being brutally violated by a complete stranger, I’ll make sure to document the moment on every social media outlet I can.”

We took another turn onto a different path as I scoured for the old ice cream cart with no luck.

“So when’s Mr. Astineau coming?”

“End of June? Early July? Mama didn’t say exactly--though I’m sure it’ll be before school starts!” She added hastily when I glared at her. “A deal’s a deal, Anna-Claire, you’ll meet him.”

“I’d better,” I nodded as I finally spotted the cart. I hadn’t seen it at first because it’d been obstructed by an unusually large group of people. Suddenly, a tall blond head appeared among the people. It was hot and a good day for ice cream, but people didn’t like ice cream that much. I heard Natalie gasp.

“Ooooh, no fuckin’ way! MGK’s here!”

“No. Fucking. Way.” I groaned.

“Kels! MGK! MGK!” I shook my head as Natalie began to scream like a banshee, but wasn’t quite quick enough to grab her arm and stop her from running towards the frenzy.

“Natalie! Stop!”

Dammit.

She disappeared into the throng of people in seconds. I thought about leaving her before I realized she’d agreed to put my keys and wallet in her purse since I didn’t bring one. I silently cursed.

“Natalie! Natalie!”

I was reaching out, trying to find the familiar ribbons of Natalie’s dark curly hair, getting deeper and deeper into the crown of sweaty people, when a hand tapped me.

“Sup, ballerina?”

I shook my head as Machine Gun Kelly gave me the smirk I was beginning to think was just permanently affixed to his angular face.

“Not now, I’m trying to find my friend.”

He chuckled. “Think I found her.” He crooked his head over his shoulder and I found Natalie smiling hard enough to break her jaw. (Suddenly, the idea had appeal actually.) She pointed ecstatically as Machine Gun Kelly turned back to me.

“You want something?”

By now we were in the thick of everything. I could barely hear him over the din of the people, and he was leaning closer and closer to me to hear. It made me uncomfortable.

“No. We were just leaving.”

“Damn, I fucked up this whole operation,” he said looking around as if he’d just noticed the fifty-off people surrounding us. “Hang on, just a second, I got you guys…”

I crossed my arms. “I said we were just—”

“Tell me how you like it.” He’d said it innocently enough, I almost could’ve believed it, but there was something in his eyes—they were an artic blue color I didn’t trust—that gave him away. I scowled, about to grab Natalie when she squirmed in next to us breathlessly.

“Strawberry! She likes strawberry, with sprinkles!”

He turned and very smoothly retrieved two free cones from the tired looking ice cream man, offering one to an ecstatic Natalie and another to me. I eyed it in disgust, shaking my head.

“What I expect from a prissy lil’ ballerina,” he chuckled. Natalie laughed giddily but my fists tightened. I was tall, but probably not tall enough to pop him one in the face if I tried. It was moments like this when I wished life was a ballet recital; I’d have come out in my best bravura and schooled this street urchin. But this wasn’t a recital and we weren’t on stage.

I couldn’t smack the smirk off his face with my hands or in the awe of my ballet moves, so I did something unorthodox.

I took the cone from his grasp while it was still lose in his hand. Without pausing to think about it, I took a slow deliberate lick of the cone as sultrily as I could before pouting.

“This ice cream’s weak.”

I’d gotten the smirk off his face but it was replaced by another expression I didn’t like. I’d meant to surprise him, put him off guard, not seduce him. And now his eyes were half closed in an amused, interested way I wasn’t sure about. He smiled.

“The Bad Ballerina,” he said slowly. “I should write that shit down.” He seemed thoughtful for a moment, as if he were really putting together lyrics off those three words, before his attention returned to me. “You coming to the show tonight?” I thought I detected something faintly in the back of his voice, but I dismissed it quickly.

“No, the ballerina’s got to train tomorrow.”

“Train?” He said incredulously.

“Yeah, you know that thing you do go get better at something? I train about five days a week.”

He seemed intrigued. “How long?”

“A few hours,” I said gruffly.

“Where at?” Now my eyebrow was raising.

“None of your business.” I was ready to grab Natalie reflexively before she could blurt something else out, when to my horror, he caught my arm and held it up.

“...I like your bracelet.”

I snatched my arm back, horrified. “Later.”

I didn’t look back as we weaved out of the mass, ignoring the ice cream cone dripping down my hand. And ignoring more deliberately that moment of satisfaction.