Seth
Laurel is in a great mood tonight. She twirls her green hair around her finger and won’t stop telling me about the latest date Nerissa took her on—some magical plane in the Underworld they sneaked into. It’s all very romantic.
The last thing I want is to ruin the mood with my stupid hex. Laurel will probably laugh at me for pissing someone off to the point that they put a spell on me, and she should. That’s the kind of friendship we’ve always had. Best friends since we were in diapers. Party friends. Workout buddies.
And she’s happy. I want her to stay that way, so I smile when she chatters away. And I do throughout dinner, too.
After dinner, my mom asks me to walk her home, having grown tired before anyone else. Our house is only across the street, but visions of my mom slipping on ice with no one around live rent-free in my mind, so of course, I readily accept the request.
Laurel tags along.
I unlock the door, and Laurel steps inside, putting my mom’s leftovers in the fridge.
Our house is just as warm as the Hawthorne home, but it’s smaller.
No need for all those bedrooms when it’s always been just my two sisters, my mom, and me.
Mom and I work together to keep the place tidy, and I saved up to get a new couch for her last Christmas—a chocolate-brown sectional, just like she requested.
She ambles toward the couch as soon as we get inside.
“Do you need help getting ready for bed?” I ask my mom.
“No, no. I’m going to watch my show for a bit. You go back to the party.”
I exchange a look with Laurel, who shrugs.
This would be easier if my sisters were around to help, but they’re going to school. Right where they should be. If they can live a better life than I do, I’ll know I did my job right, or at least close to it.
It’s not like I’ll be far from Mom. Just across the street.
I lock the door behind me as we leave.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?” Laurel asks as we cross the street.
I wince. “Is it that obvious?”
I thought I was doing a good job hiding it all, but of course, my best friend can always see through me.
“Um… yeah. I know your fake smile. The one where your lips turn down instead of up.”
“All right, all right.” I step outside and lower my voice, well aware that the people inside have better hearing than I do. “But don’t make a big deal of it.”
She crosses her arms. “No promises.”
“My, uh…” I scratch the back of my neck. “I guess someone hexed my love life, all right?”
Her eyes widen, and then…
She laughs. Aloud. Doubling over, hand covering her mouth, bursts of giggles. When she recovers, she claps me on the back and walks inside. “I bet you deserved it.”
“Stop.”
Of course, she doesn’t stop. In a sing-song voice, she says, “I told you being a fuck boy would come back to bite you in the ass.”
And as annoying as it all is, when I follow her in, I know she’s probably right.
“I guess you’ll be going to the Lovers Ball alone, huh?”
I wince. I hadn’t even thought about the ball—and she’s right. It’s right around the corner. I’ve never gone alone, but… “Yeah. Guess so.”
Dinner at the Hawthornes is always a treat—a loud, crowded treat, but I don’t mind the chaos.
Rowan does, though. I know that about her.
After dessert, she’s quiet while everyone else chats, sitting at her little corner of the table.
Alone. It’s a new table, large and rectangular, with enough room for everyone—but just barely.
She’s squeezed between Juniper and Aspen, and hasn’t looked up from her plate all night.
Maybe that’s my fault. I put a lot of stress on her, with my hex and all.
Finally, she looks at me, and I smile at her. She doesn’t return it.
Even with her lips turned down and the wrinkle between her brow, Rowan is beautiful.
Her hair reminds me of the leaves in fall when they deepen to something close to burgundy, and her blue-gray eyes are like the ice of winter.
Considering that she spends her days working inside, her cool complexion is always pale—even more than her sisters’—but there’s a soft hint of freckles across the bridge of her pointy nose.
Her body has changed over the last few years, from slim to round and soft, but she always seems so confident.
And she should be.
She wears the same cozy sweaters, pleated skirts, and knee-high socks from before, but with her thicker thighs, they somehow look better. And, of course, those glasses are always perched on the top of her button nose.
She lifts an eyebrow at me, still unsmiling, and I tear my gaze away.
It’s always been easy for me to fit in with the Hawthornes, even now that the family is growing. Fast. That just means I have new friends in Ozan and Mac, though the former is friendlier than the latter.
When the house finally settles down, with Aspen and Maple going to their respective homes, I know it’s time for me to leave.
“Thanks for the invite,” I say to anyone who’s listening.
Juniper smiles in that subtle way she often does. “Thank you for coming. You and Liezel are always welcome.”
“Oh, we know. And we’ll be here.”
It’s a welcome we usually take advantage of. Good food, and an easy way to get my mom out of the house. Tonight, I needed to get out even more than her. I needed the distraction, but as I drag my feet to the front door, the weight presses onto me again.
It’s not about the hex. It’s about what I did to deserve it. Who did I hurt this badly? Most witches I know don’t mess around with things like hexes and curses—not unless they’re deserved.
So, what did I do?
It would be a lie to say I don’t have a few ideas.
Rowan’s soft voice stops me before I go outside. “Wait.”
I turn around, my fingers brushing against the cool metal doorknob.
Her hands are clasped together. Everything about her is familiar: the way her spindly, piano-player fingers weave together. Her skirt swishes around her thick thighs, and she peers up at me from beneath dark eyelashes.
“What’s up?” I ask, the corner of my lip tugging up.
She inhales deeply, her expression unwavering as her chest puffs up. “We’re going to fix this.”
“We?” I tilt my head.
She nods firmly. “I’d like to help you, if you’ll have me.”
I don’t know much about magic, even after being friends with Laurel and getting wrapped up in all of her magical things. I know Rowan is powerful, more than she would admit. She studies a rare type of star magic. If she’s going to help me… maybe I can figure this out.
My smile lifts. “Really?”
“Mhm.” She steps closer and brushes off my shoulder, not quite meeting my eye. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Okay?”
Finally, her gaze lifts to meet mine, and something is lodged in my throat. She’s willing to help. Even Laurel, my best friend, didn’t offer any assistance—mostly because her seer magic isn’t useful in this case—but of course, Rowan is. She’s just that kind of person.
If Rowan thinks I’m worth helping, maybe I am… but it’s hard to believe. I’m the reason for the hex. Maybe if I’d been better, more communicative…
Things could be different.
I nod. “Tomorrow.”
The next morning, I open the café at 5:00 a.m. On the dot. Never too late, never too early.
Time doesn’t stop just because I’m hexed, but some things stand still. Like my dating apps, which I promptly delete from my phone. The last bad date ended in a coffee spill and me being a little bit of an idiot, but who knows what could happen next time?
I’ve heard stories of hexes that end up with people in the hospital, divorced, or bankrupt. Maybe they’re all lies or exaggerations, but I’d rather keep everyone safe. Just in case.
Rowan is the first customer to walk in. It’s still dark out, but she looks as alert as ever.
A wing of liner pokes out from her eye, and her cheeks are flushed—from makeup or the cold, it’s hard to say.
Her perfectly straight hair swoops at the ends and is covered by a black beret that matches her skirt.
She fiddles with the purse strapped over her shoulder and looks around. “I can’t believe I’m helping you with this.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “Why not?”
She smiles wryly. “Because if a man tells me his love life is hexed, it’s usually for a reason.” She approaches the counter, tapping her nails against the wood. “Can you think of a reason?”
Yes. But I don’t want to talk about Scarlet, especially not to Rowan.
“No.” I groan and turn away, already working on Rowan’s drink of choice: hot Americano with a splash of oat milk. Other people put too much milk, but I know exactly how she likes it.
“Think harder.”
I pour ground espresso in and bang it against the counter before tamping it. “I always let people know what I’m looking for when we go out.”
“Which is?”
I smile at her. “A good time.”
She rolls her eyes. “Uh-huh. And you’re sure they’re on the same page?”
“As far as I know.” I slide the portafilter into place, and espresso drips into the cup: a disposable with our floral logo. “Yeah. I think so.”
She shakes her head and presses her lips together as I pour the splash of milk and present her drink, giving her a hopeful smile.
“You really think there’s a way to figure this out?”
She rummages through her purse. “There are… a few. Some cleansing spells that may work, for starters, and we could attempt to track down the witch who performed the spell.”
“It sounds like you already have a plan.”
“Of course, I do.” She offers her cash, and I shake my head, taking a step back.
“Nope. First drink of the day is always free.”
“Since when?”
“Since you decided to help me from the goodness of your heart.”
“W-we’re friends.” She clears her throat. “And you’re important to my sisters—to all of them in a way, I suppose, but especially Laurel. Obviously, I’m helping.”
“Obviously.”
Her cheeks are redder than they were when she walked in. She turns away. “Come over tonight. We’ll get started.”
“On what?”
“Research.”
I groan. Only Rowan could make me read books—or whatever she plans to have us do to research.
She leaves before I can make a formal complaint.