Call the Shots (Swim the Fly #3)(54)

“We can do this,” Leyna says, drawing me in with her intense gaze. “But you have to trust me. Just focus on how my hands are moving. Forget everything else. Can you do that?”

I nod.

“Good,” she says, gently sliding the blindfold over my eyes. And then I feel her warm breath on me as she whispers in my right ear. “Use the Force, Sean.”

Oh, my God. A Star Wars reference. From Princess Leyna. Forget tarot — this is a real sign.

I breathe deep to try and calm the nervous flutter in my lungs. There’s a wonderful toasted-almondy-sweet-honey scent coming off of Leyna. It’s subtle and delicious and intoxicating and I find myself teetering toward her. It takes all of my willpower not to bury my nose in the nape of Leyna’s neck and fill up on her wonderful smell.

It’s not until I hear the scraping and shuffling of the obstacles being moved around the room that I’m startled from my scent-induced trance. I need to focus here. Leyna seems so sure that we can do this, and I really want to do well for her. I can already picture her excitedly jumping up and down. Giving me a victory embrace. Maybe even a congratulatory kiss as we’re caught up in the moment.

I can sense Leyna moving toward me even before she’s there. I hold up my hands and feel her tenderly pressing her fingertips into the soft pads of mine.

Oh, jeez. That’s nice. That’s really nice. Her touch is so light and tingly. Like she’s emitting these minuscule sparks. She lightly swirls her fingers against mine, waking up every last nerve in my fingertips.

Holy moly. That’s crazy. My head starts to spin. My breath catches in my throat and . . .

Whoa, Nelly!

Easy, boy. I do not need that response right now.

I shift my weight and start imagining Klaus, our one-hundred-fifty-pound Rottweiler, squatting and squeezing off a ginormous mound of duke. Me having to bag that monster. The soft squishy warmth of it in my fist. The heft of it in my palm.

And the foul beefy stench of it wafting up to my nostrils.

Gugg. I nearly make myself yak. But at least it does the trick.

“You’ve got three minutes,” I hear Mr. Nestman call out. “Starting . . . now!”

Leyna begins to pull away ever so slightly. I slide my feet along the floor toward her, trying not to break the connection between us. It’s such a bizarre feeling having to put your total trust in someone like this, but with Leyna it feels perfectly natural. I bet she really was a great Helen Keller.

She leads me this way and that, raising her hands in the air when she wants me to step over something, closing her fingers when she wants me to move toward her, spreading them out when she needs me to back away. I don’t know how I figured out her silent sign language, but it seems to be working, because I haven’t knocked into any of the objects yet.

And then, of course, there’s my secret weapon. My nose. I’m following the scent of Leyna’s honey-nut aroma as much as anything else. I’m still not sure if it’s a subtle perfume or her lip balm or just her natural scent, but it’s attracting me like a hummingbird to nectar.

“One minute!” Mr. Nestman shouts.

Leyna guides me to the left, and I hear the entire class gasp. Uh-oh. Must have just missed something. Leyna presses on my fingers to stop me from moving forward. She has me step a little to the right and then we’re moving forward again.

I take a few more steps this way and another turn to the left, and then I hear Leyna scream with joy just as the class breaks into whoops and cheers.

“We did it!” She whips my blindfold off and gives me a big hug. It. Feels. Amazing. “Oh, my God! You’re such a good follower! It’s like you were inside my head, listening to everything I was thinking.”

“Congratulations.” Mr. Nestman claps loudly, and Leyna pulls away.

I instantly miss her. Her warmth stolen from me. Like someone’s just opened the door to Alaska.

Mr. Nestman takes his well-worn brown leather wallet from his back pocket, plucks a DeLuca’s gift card out, and hands it to Leyna. “Don’t spend it all in one place. Well, actually, scratch that. You have to spend it all in one place. Enjoy.” He turns to me. “So, how’s the casting come along? Have we made any decisions yet?”

“Oh, um . . .” I glance over at the clock, praying for the bell to save me. “Not just yet. We’re still sorting it out. Going through all the tapes, you know. By next Monday for sure.”

Mr. Nestman smiles and nods. “Well, don’t give me too big a part. Third or fourth lead should be fine. I want to keep myself available to help with the directing and rewrites. But don’t take too long. I am a professional actor, and I do have other irons in the fire.”

“Yeah. Okay. We’ll keep that in mind.”

“Excellent.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Just let me know when you have some scenes you’d like to workshop in class and I’ll make it happen.”

And on that, the bell rings, sending everyone scrambling for their shoes.

I turn back to Leyna, who waves our DeLuca’s gift card at me.

“Yay!” she squeals. “Are you free tomorrow? We should totally go to the mall and get a mocha. Enjoy the spoils of our victory. And maybe talk about your movie? What do you say? Is it a date?”

“Yeah. Absolutely. Definitely.” The affirmative words tumble out of my mouth like wash from an overflowing dryer. A date with Leyna? Are you kidding? I’d stand up Slave Leia herself if it meant going on a date with Princess Leyna.