5. MiracleMature

For a few seconds I just stared, as if waiting for him to tell me he loved me and for his head to come near mine so that we could share a beautiful, tender kiss... But I snapped out of what I realised, in embarrassment, was a daydream and attempted to process what he had actually said.

"You ... you're a magical being?" I repeated hesitantly.

Quinn nodded patiently.

"I ..." I trailed off. I hadn't really had an idea of how I was going to respond and no bright idea came to me so I just stood there, stunned to the point that my thoughts were totally blank.

Quinn shrugged. "You can choose not to believe it if you like but then you would not have something which explained the impossibility of my arrival."

"Impossible things are impossible for a reason," I said finally, after a longer silence than the previous. "Because no one can believe them."

Quinn chuckled. "I would call that the definition of a miracle."

I threw my hands up in the air in helplessness.

"Does that make this situation any less complicated?"

He shook his head.

"No. But are miracles not wondrous, awe-inspiring phenomena? Things we admire and respect before even thinking about believing?"

I looked at the ground.

"Well, I don't actually dislike the idea of magic," I admitted in a murmur. "I love fantasy fiction and ..." I trailed off, blushing. I'd almost told him I used to want fairies to exist.

Quinn's eyes lingered on my face and I found myself unwillingly glancing up. His smile was gentle.

"And what?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter," I told him. I sighed. "But ... living the dreams of a child is different to accepting a bizarre reality."

"Are you certain of that?" Quinn inquired, his eyes sparkling.

 My heart somersaulted in excitement but I took a nervous step backwards, half expecting him to leap forwards and start tickling my waist.

"Yes," I replied, though my tone was unsure.

Quinn grinned. "I do not think they are too different. And I do not think that you do either."

He took a single step towards me and held out his hand.

"Would you let me show you, Carina?"

I regarded his hand and bit my lip. I couldn't deny that I wanted some sort of adventure with him but the rational part of my mind shouted at me for my stupidity.

He cocked his head to his side like a dog, still smiling.

Oh damn; he knows how hot he is... and how persuasive his hotness can be.

I stepped backwards again, resisting. I shook my head a little, as if to rid it of the influence he was having over my thoughts.

Quinn crossed his arms, his head back in its normal position. He looked amused.

"You deny the prince of Sequill?"

I snorted, despite myself.

"Did you just make that title up?"

He shook his head, his eyes laughing.

"But you can't be a prince," I said, ignoring the fact he was attractive enough to be just about anything. I grinned, thinking I'd caught him out as I asked, "Where's your crown?"

"I have run away," Quinn replied, winking conspiratorially.

"Is that so?" I asked, finding the young man hilarious.

He nodded earnestly.

"This is so impossible," I said, having now reached the conclusion that I was, in actual fact, dreaming this entire incident. "I'm going to wake up lying on the floor - or maybe even on the hotel bed - the latter would be preferable; goodness only knows where my subconscious got the idea of you from."

Quinn smiled broadly.

"Or maybe I am incredible enough to be a miracle, and you are fortunate to experience me as your first."

And without warning, he leapt forwards, just like I'd imagined he would when his eyes had sparkled, and grabbed my waist. He kissed my cheek; the blood vessels under it responded by dilating - though Quinn didn't notice - and he whispered, "Let us play games from our childhood. You play the prisoner because I've caught you now."

"You're crazy," I whispered. But Quinn had pulled me out of my disbelief and into his world of fantasy. What's more, he knew it.

The End

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