My Phoenix costume makes me look slightly out of place – there seem to be a lot of people here dressed up as their own creations and barely any of the women are dressed in such a form-fitting manner. Ana blends in a little more, wearing a full-length red and white Estonian folk costume she pulled from her closet, albeit with a makeup case in one hand and a bottle of opened wine in the other.
“Hello fair maidens.” Two men are walking toward us, one round like a potato, looking like a medieval squire, the other dressed as Zaphod Beeblebrox from Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
“I am Randy the Retiree,” the potato man says. He gestures to his friend. “And this is—”
“Zaphod Beeblebrox,” I fill in.
“No,” Zaphod says frowning, tossing his straggly blonde hair over his shoulder. “I am Darth Star Lord from the planet Clorox, guardian of the galaxy.”
I cock my head. “I think you’re getting a bunch of things confused.”
“We are from the Senate of Calgon,” Randy the Retiree says and gestures to the field with his arm. “We put on this affair for many to enjoy. All are welcome. Especially the fair ladies.”
“I brought makeup and wine,” Ana says with a wide smile, totally in her element.
“Very good,” Randy the Retiree says. “Your services are needed here.” He puts his arm around her and leads her away.
Zaphod peers at me. “And what is your warrior name?”
“Um, Jean Grey, turned into Phoenix.”
“Peculiar name, Jean Grey Turned into Phoenix” he says. “Come, let us retire to my tent up on yonder hill so we may properly get acquainted away from prying eyes. Everyone is always watching the Senate of Calgon.”
He tries to put his arm around me but I shrug away from it. “I’m not here to battle, or whatever you’re suggesting. I’m here to find someone.”
“Ah,” he says, folding his arms. “And who is this warrior you seek?”
I try and think. There are hundreds of people here fighting in a blur. “He’s British…”
“Everyone here is British,” he says. “Doth not hear thine accent?”
“Right. He should be with a kid. His name is Kev…I mean Betoolamous the Brave.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you, for there are many brave ones here.” He takes a step closer to me. “As am I. Did you know I’ve been called the best bang since the big one?”
“All right, Zaphod,” I tell him, going around him. “Go back to your Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.”
“My what?” he asks as I start jogging across the field toward the beer garden, figuring that’s where Blake probably is. That’s where I’d be.
Unfortunately I have to head right through a battle to get there.
Foam weapons are coming at my head in all directions and it doesn’t seem to matter that I don’t have a shield and I look like I’m trying to go somewhere, because I am hit absolutely everywhere. Foam to the face, shoulders, boobs, gut, ass. Then the ass some more by some medieval pervert with a very large sword.
“Ahhhh!” I cry out, trying to run and shield my head and ass at the same time when suddenly the pervert is struck on the back and he falls to the ground in dramatic fashion.
“Death is such a pity,” he ekes out, reaching for me with his hand before he mock dies.
There is no reprise before the hits start up again but there is a hand grabbing mine and leading me out of the chaos and clamoring.
When we’re a few feet away from the action and I can breathe I look up to see who my rescuer is.
I already knew from the feel of his hand.
Except this isn’t Blake at all. It’s Tom Hiddleston. I mean, Loki.
Don’t ruin my fantasy.
“You saved me,” I tell him.
Blake’s face is far too serious for the battleground and far too serious to play Loki. But it’s him, dressed from head to toe in his armor, from the green cape and gold-plated shoulders, to the horn helmet atop his head. He looks menacing.
Badass.
And fucking hot.
“What are you doing here?” Blake asks as the battle rages around us.
“Kevin didn’t tell you?”
He shakes his head, his helmet starting to tip over. His hand shoots up to steady it. “No.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling stupid. “Um, well I ran into him today. He was with your stepmother. You never told me about her and her Benedict Cumber—”
“Don’t even say his name.”
“Anyway he expected me here today and your stepmother seemed really grateful when I said I’d still come so…here I am.”
“And that’s the only reason?” he asks softly, peering intently into my eyes.
“No,” I tell him. “I came here for you. To tell you I’m sorry.”
His brows come together. “For what?”
“For being a twat. For not returning your messages. For blowing up at you like I did.”
“Amanda,” he says. “You had every right to be mad. I knew it was our secret and I wasn’t thinking. Clearly. I get it.”
“No,” I tell him. “I shouldn’t have freaked out and left you. I just didn’t know what to do. You know…being with you…it scared me so much to imagine losing you, I couldn’t handle it. It’s almost like I made it happen so it wouldn’t have to down the line.”