19. Magnolia
AVA KNOWS SOMETHING’S up the instant she lays eyes on me in the parking lot on Monday morning. “Sweet hair,” she says, gesturing at the streak, which is still plenty visible even though my hair is in its usual braids. “But something else is different. Did you bone him again?”
“I did not bone him,” I say primly, but when I meet her eyes I snort a laugh. “Okay, maybe I did.”
She holds her hand up for a high-five and pouts when I don’t give it to her. Dropping her hand and adjusting the tote on her shoulder, she notes, “Got it. Not boning, but sex at least, no matter what you’re calling it.”
“Earth-shattering,” I clarify.
She nods in his direction, where Riggs already stands greeting students. “Clearly.”
I’d spent an hour last night talking to him like a teenager, too. When we finally clicked off, he said those three words to me, and I returned them, without hesitation.
“What’s going on with the smile over there?” Ava asks with a grin. “Looks like more than a boning situation. Do you like him?”
I look over at her. She’s different, too. “You like the guy you’re dating, don’t you?”
Her face darkens with a blush. “I do, but we’re talking about you. So spill it.”
“So, the hair…” I start.
“Looks legit,” she finishes. “Willow’s skills are getting really good.”
“It’s because I told him I loved him.”
“You what?!” she shrieks, and I swear everyone in the parking lot turns to look at us. She grabs both my arms and pulls my focus back to her. “You—you told him you loved him? Tell me he said it first. Please, god, tell me he?—”
“He said it first.” I laugh and extract myself from her grasp.
She heaves a sigh of relief. “Thank god, because I swear if you just let those three words rip…”
I shake my head. “When have I ever?”
“Oh, honey,” she says, her brown eyes softening as she quiets. “You’re really serious, aren’t you? The two of you?”
I bite my lower lip. “We are. He’s changing me, Ava. Like, physically changing me.”
“Yeah he is,” she laughs and leers at me. “Tell me more. What do you mean?”
“My magic. It’s…back.”
“I didn’t know it was ever gone.”
We start walking again, and after I give her the highlights of the weekend, she shakes her head. “Holy shit.”
I chuckle. “That’s one way to put it. The Gathering is coming up, and it’s at our house this year, so I’m going to deal with it.”
“How? You’re gonna pull your sisters in, right?”
“Absolutely.” I’m not ready, but I will be. “The thing is,” I start, then hesitate. Tell her. Be brave. I adjust the tote on my shoulders and start again. “I’ve spent so long suppressing my magic that I have no idea what it really even is.”
Ava makes a noise of agreement. “I don’t remember you doing much with it before you were sixteen. Maybe I wasn’t paying attention.”
She’s not wrong. “Mom preferred we contain our magic to the property until we turned sixteen,” I answer. “Obviously, things went sideways for me.”
Ava nods in agreement, and we stop the conversation because we’re at the bottom of the steps. There, standing at the top and making my heart absolutely race, is Riggs. He quirks a smile at me, then goes back to paying attention to the students streaming past. An unreasonable spike of jealousy pings through me over every person he’s looking at, and I want his eyes on me and only me.
Instantly he glances back, his eyes pinned to mine, heat and desire swirling through them.
“Jesus, did it get hotter out here?” Ava fans herself. “Riggs is looking at you like he wants to do unspeakable things.”
I hold his gaze, feeling the power move within me. I let the unbridled want course through my body, let him see how much I need to feel his hands on my hips as he drives into me.
His hands clench and he turns to me, about to descend the stairs.
“Mags!” Ava hisses. “Whatever you’re doing, stop.”
Her words land like a cold glass of water, and I shake my head to clear it. Sure enough, Riggs blinks and seems to refocus on the stream of students.
Crap.
As we ascend the stairs, Ava knocks me with her elbow. “Did you just…shit, I don’t know what you just did.”
“I think I need to talk to my mom.”
“Good morning, Miss Green, Miss Rowan.” Riggs hand reaches for mine.
I let our fingers brush together behind the cover of my legs. “Good morning, Principal Finlay.” My voice is lower than I intend, and his eyes flare with heat once again. I read exactly what he’d like to do to me in his expression, and it involves his desk and me lying flat on it. There’s no stopping the goosebumps that race over my body.
I manage to pull myself together, but from the minute that first bell rings, it’s a long day of teaching. Normally, I love it. Chemistry can intimidate so many, but it shouldn’t, and I love being the one to guide students through the confusion. Science is absolutely wondrous, beautiful even, and all you need to do is find the patterns and follow them. The chemicals, the way things mix or don’t mix, the beauty of reactions beneath a microscope…nature will really show off for you if you bother to watch. And that’s where it gets fun. Taking the time to watch, and question, and experiment.
But today? Today, I want to strangle almost every student. It’s only the second week of school, so their bodies and brains haven’t quite adapted back to the sleep and study schedule that’s required, and it being a Monday makes it infinitely worse. No one’s happy, least of all me, because I’m not concentrating, either. All I want to do is…well…Riggs. I want to feel his weight on top of me, his mouth on mine, as he peels my clothes off. I want the warmth of his skin against my own, the solid strength of his legs pushing mine apart as he enters me, burying himself to the hilt.
“Um, Miss Rowan?” Sunny speaks up, bringing me back to sixth period.
I blink and realize my entire classroom looks like it wants to, as Ava so delicately put it, bone. In one corner, the quarterback is looking at a flute player like he wants to eat her, and in another corner, two of the drama students have already pushed their desks together and I can’t see their hands. Everyone is flushed. I can literally smell the pheromones.
This is much worse than I anticipated.
“Okay, class!” I exclaim, clapping my hands and attempting to bring order back to my own thoughts, and thus, my class’s actions. I envision a cool winter breeze blowing in from the windows, and immediately sense a change in temperature and temperament. The quarterback blinks rapidly, seeming to come out of a trance, but the flute player might be irrevocably changed. And the drama kids don’t bother putting their desks back to rights, but at least their hands are visible.
I’ll call it a win.
And I have got to get control over myself and my thoughts.