Chapter 16
“I will not fall for Zachary Marcus.” I say it a fourth time and pencil a line through his name again.
The sentence is written on a small piece of parchment paper—the cool type with the uneven edges and old dingy look—five times. I’ve now marked off all but one of them. I keep thinking about him, and I shouldn’t. He’s a bad idea, but he haunts my mind. Okay, he’s not bad, but for me, now, he is.
It’s not just the kiss anymore. That pops into my head a lot, but it’s more than that.
It’s the things I’ve started noticing, even without being around him, and the more he comes to mind, the more I notice.
The strength in his steel-gray eyes, but a warmth I hadn’t noticed before.
The timbre of his voice. This gentle music in his laugh, and maybe I’m imagining it, but I swear there’s something in the way he looks at me.
I hadn’t thought much about that until today, but it’s different than when he looks at other people.
It’s like he either lingers a second longer or he can’t look away quick enough.
That’s why I have to do this. I take a deep breath and say the words again as I guide my pencil through the letters one last time.
“I will not fall for Zachary Marcus.” I release all the oxygen from my lungs in one slow breath. I close my eyes and nod, like I need permission to continue.
I squeeze the grill lighter in my hand and open my eyes.
A little flame flickers to life and I hold it over the candle.
Then there’s his family. Hayden’s family.
I know they’re not mine, and it’s probably stupid to think they could be, but what if?
They freaking radiate love. They’re a real family, the type that has each other’s back.
A whole family. I know it’s not mine, but I don’t want to lose them.
Finally the flame catches, throwing the tall slender black candle in ghoulish shadows next to the paper. Positive thoughts. Think positive thoughts.
I stare at the parchment. Now to complete this.
I pick it up and tear it into three pieces, trying to focus only on ridding myself of the flutter in my chest when I think of Zachary.
Not Hayden. Not what Mom would think. Not their family.
Just him. With the last piece ripped, I hold it over the candle and watch the paper curl over the flame until it’s overtaken and tendrils of smoke ascend.
I drop the remaining fragments into my ash dish as the hues of brown blacken and disintegrate.
I will not fall for Zachary Marcus. I repeat the phrase in my head to keep focus. That’s what most witchcraft is—focus, determination, vibes, and a little psychology. Not spooky weird shit.
The last piece falls from my fingertips and crumbles into ashes. I put out the candle with my little snuffing tool and waft the smoke trails away from my face. My eyes are locked on the ashes. Charred black remnants of the thoughts in my head, of the outrageous feelings prodding my chest.
“Come on.” I close my eyes only to see gray eyes—Zachary’s eyes, not Hayden’s. I huff and get up. “I’ll do it again tomorrow.”