2
“Yeah.”
Lily laughed nervously.
“That was okay?”
Was she serious? Was Chrys’s chest the only one that felt like a series of fireworks were going off inside it.
“That was perfect.”
Lily sighed with relief.
“I’d never done that before.”
“You never kissed anyone?”
Who was she to talk? She’d never kissed anyone before, either. Shit. Should she be asking if she did it okay?
“I’ve never kissed a girl before,”
Lily clarified.
“Or, well … anyone I wanted to kiss at all. I had to play a stupid kissing game at Sonia’s fifteenth birthday party, and I didn’t like it.”
Oh shit.
“Did you like this?”
Chrys asked, suddenly terrified.
“Yes!”
Lily must have sensed her anxiety. She grabbed Chrys’s hands and kissed her again, and the anxiety couldn’t maintain its hold over Chrys’s body—it dissipated.
“I just needed to know I didn’t screw it up,”
Lily said when they broke apart.
“I didn’t want to do it badly.”
Chrys snorted. Lily was going to be Lily.
“You have to be the best at everything you do, don’t you? All the time.”
Lily tossed her ponytail, but she was smiling sheepishly.
“I’d think you’d like that in this case.”
She had a point, and Chrys’s heart danced inside her.
“I kind of like everything about you.”
“Yeah?”
Lily looked very pleased about that. Her beautiful smile might kill Chrys yet—she was fairly certain this kind of irregular heartbeat was incompatible with life.
“You know, the only way to get better at kissing is to practice.”
Lily jabbed her.
“Then you better get in the car. I refuse to practice in the middle of the street.”
With a perfect flounce, Lily strode to the driver’s side, and Chrys got in the SUV, grinning. She couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate their victory.
The day after she kissed Chrysanthemum, Lily had a hundred things she should have been doing. First on that list was probably not referring to the day a.
“the day after she kissed Chrysanthemum”
whe.
“the day after they destroyed a curse like a couple of badass witches”
was right there, but there was no denying which of those events had taken priority in her brain. Just like there was no denying that she was agonizing over things like this when she should be delving into homework that had been neglected, but Lily was having a hard time stressing about any of it.
Last night had been out of a dream. Shock had rooted her feet in place when Chrysanthemum had kissed her cheek, then hope had blossomed in her chest. If she hadn’t been so giddy with relief after their victory, Lily didn’t know if she’d have had the courage to run after Chrysanthemum and kiss her. But she had been, and she’d told herself she could play the “revenge”
comment up if Chrysanthemum reacted badly.
She was very, very glad she hadn’t needed to.
Her plan to invite Chrysanthemum over so they could kiss again, however, hadn’t gone as well. Adrenaline and joy had kept them both going long enough for Lily to drive back to her house. Then exhaustion had set in. In retrospect, they should have expected it. Intense spell work was known to be tiring, and neither of them had ever drained their power in such a major way before. They’d collapsed in the living room with hot chocolate and popcorn, mindlessly watching TV and snuggling on the sofa until Lily’s parents had found them half asleep.
Today was a do-over. Lily’s mother, having been the one to find them with Lily’s head on Chrysanthemum’s shoulder, had promptly invited Chrysanthemum over for dinner tomorrow. That had been unexpected. Sunday was the rare day when everyone was usually at home for a family meal, and Lily wasn’t sure if she wanted Chrysanthemum to witness the Allertons in all their dysfunctional glory. She worried, too, about Chrysanthemum being given the third degree.
But Chrysanthemum was on her way, and Lily had tossed half her wardrobe on her bed, searching for the perfect outfit.
Ridiculous. She saw Chrysanthemum every day at school, and Chrysanthemum had seen her looking her worst with the painting. She was being all kinds of ridiculous … and she was too happy to care.
Around four o’clock, not long before Chrysanthemum was supposed to arrive, her mom called Lily into the kitchen. Her father had started a pot roast a couple of hours ago, and the house smelled delicious. It was one of the only dishes he cooked, but he did it well. He’d left it on the stove, and now only her mother was in the expansive kitchen, making buttermilk biscuits to go with the meal.
Lily retrieved the biscuit cutter from the cabinet above the fridge without being asked and handed it over.
“So tell me,”
her mother said as she rolled out the dough.
“were you and Chrysanthemum really doing homework before we got home last night?”
“What?”
Lily squeaked.
“It’s a fair question. You are supposed to be grounded, if you remember.”
Lily pressed her lips together, unsure of the best approach. She hadn’t forgotten.
“I can’t believe you’d doubt me,”
Lily mumbled with what she considered to be an appropriate amount of resentment.
“And I can’t believe you’d hex someone,”
her mother retorted.
“If I didn’t trust the Quinn girl, you wouldn’t have been going out at all. Your father needed persuading.”
Lily leaned against the kitchen island, struggling to process this new information.
“You only let me go out because I was with Chrysanthemum?”
Her mother shot her a look that suggested she knew Lily was trying to twist her words and wasn’t going to get away with it.
“We thought it was good that you were spending time with the girl you hexed. That you were getting along. We’re a very small community, Lily. Witches need to stick together.”
“Oh.”
Lily felt a flush creeping up her neck and hoped it stayed hidden beneath her shirt.
“Yeah … we’ve been getting along better.”
Her mother smiled.
“I noticed. You spent the last two weekends together.”
“I didn’t realize you knew I was with her all the time.”
“You’re not as sneaky as you think.”
“I don’t think I’m sneaky. I think—”
She cut herself off before I think you don’t care could spill out.
“I thought you were too busy with Sara to notice what I do.”
The rolling pin ceased moving, and her mother turned her way.
“Oh, baby, no. I’m sorry if that’s what you thought. Your sister’s swimming takes up a lot of time, and you were always the responsible one. I guess we figured you didn’t need us interfering because you were doing fine on your own.”
Her mother sighed.
“That was our mistake. The situation with the hex—it was partially our fault, I know that. We should have been paying you more attention, and I’m sorry.”
I am doing fine. I am responsible.
Frustration roared in Lily’s head. How long had she wanted to hear this? But she squeezed the island’s granite top, not feeling the release or gratitude she expected. Could they really bury the past year of neglect with one brief conversation? Maybe, in their own way, her parents were trying to make up for ignoring her.
“If my behavior was partially your fault, does that mean I’m no longer grounded?”
Lily asked with forced levity, and her mother flicked flour at her.
“I will talk to your father about it,”
she said. She seemed to be fighting down a fresh smile.
There was so much more Lily wanted to add to this conversation that wasn’t her joking around, trying to earn concessions, but the doorbell rang. Another day, then. The topic had been broached; it was a start.
“We can continue this later,”
her mother said, reading her thoughts.
Lily dashed to the front door. When she opened it, she found Chrysanthemum carrying a cake.
Chrysanthemum shrugged in way of explanation.
“From my mom.”
“Another test bake?”
Lily asked, ushering her inside.
“Yup, but she decorated it for tonight. I thought we deserved to celebrate with cake.”
Decorated it was an understatement. The bottom tier was shaped and frosted to look like a basket, and the second tier was its overflowing contents—bright orange pumpkins, yellow and red sunflowers, and a bumblebee whose spun-sugar wings shimmered with an effect that Lily could tell was magical in nature. Every now and then, the wings fluttered so quickly that it looked like a real bee.
A gorgeous cake could distract Lily for only so long, though. Her stomach fluttered along with the bee’s wings as she smiled at Chrysanthemum. Her eyes were such a pure, clear blue that Lily could get lost staring into them, almost as if they were a scrying crystal. She wanted to push Chrysanthemum’s long bangs out of her face for a better view, press their noses against each other until their lips melted together.
Sara shrieked something in the living room, and Lily shook herself.
“Sorry about the noise. My sister and her friends are working on their group Halloween costume. Come into the kitchen and drop off the cake.”
Chrysanthemum seemed relieved to stop carrying it, and after dropping it off, they headed toward the living room, too. Sara took one look at them and fled, carrying her phone in front of her face so she could keep up her video chat.
“Your sister is going trick-or-treating?”
Chrysanthemum asked.
“Yeah. She has friends on the swim team that she goes with. I think she’s getting old for it, but whatever.”
Chrysanthemum poked her arm.
“What? You’re too mature to dress up and go begging for candy? I’m not—I miss trick-or-treating.”
“Really? It doesn’t seem like a you thing.”
Lily had never much cared for it. Her parents had never been particularly clever with costumes when she was younger, and witch families didn’t typically put much energy into it, since they had Samhain to attend to. As for Lily’s own attempts to create a costume, they never came out the way she envisioned them. She was glad this was the first year that she’d be able to participate in the Historical Society’s Samhain celebration instead, with rites to honor the dead and spells for ushering in a healthy and prosperous new year.
Chrysanthemum tugged at her cuffs.
“I always liked being something else for a night. Something better than what I am.”
Lily snagged Chrysanthemum’s hands before they could disappear up her sleeves.
“Better than the powerful witch you are? Is that possible?”
“I thought we had this conversation about me not being super powerful, just super lucky that one time.”
“What I heard was that you’re super powerful, but your control needs work. I maintain that you are actually kind of amazing.”
Chrysanthemum’s cheeks turned pink, and she leaned over and kissed Lily so quickly that Lily didn’t have much time to enjoy it. Then she glanced toward the doorway.
“Should I not do that?”
Lily craned her neck, but her mother was busy in the kitchen, her father was nowhere to be seen (probably in his office, where he’d been dealing with preparations for the Halloween ball), and Sara was undoubtedly hiding in her room now that Chrysanthemum was here.
“I think we’re safe.”
Before she could overthink it, she yanked Chrysanthemum closer for a kiss, but she yanked too hard. They flopped onto the couch, Chrysanthemum on top of her, and Lily was tangled in her limbs, Chrysanthemum’s hair falling in her face like a cascade of black silk.
“Okay, relax?”
Chrysanthemum lips quirked with amusement as she propped herself up.
Lily laughed nervously.
“I do suck at this.”
Chrysanthemum was having a hard time fighting a smirk.
“I think that depends on what ‘this’ refers to.”
“Romance. I was just trying to kiss you.”
“You still can.”
Chrysanthemum didn’t have to dip her head very low for their mouths to meet.
Lily forgot all about the fact that they were lying on her sofa. There was nothing else but Chrysanthemum’s lips, the light tease of her tongue, the way her body was pressing into Lily’s own. She still couldn’t relate to the way everyone talked about attraction—explosions and urges and fires shooting down her core—but being this close to Chrysanthemum was thrilling and pleasurable in its own way. Even the uncomfortable bits—like Chrysanthemum’s knee being too close to Lily’s thigh and digging in—were perfect. She’d discovered last night that Chrysanthemum’s skin was every bit as soft as she’d imagined it to be, and she never wanted to stop touching it.
How something could be so soothing when it also made her heart race was a mystery. But then, how she’d ended up falling for Chrysanthemum was a mystery, too, and it was one mystery that Lily was okay not understanding.
“Girls, you in here?”
Lily’s mother called out.
Chrysanthemum jerked away in alarm and toppled to the floor.
“Yes?”
Lily answered, trying not to laugh and panic at the same time. She couldn’t bear to look her mother’s way, so she had no clue what her mother saw, if anything.
“Can you come here and set the table?”
Was there a hint of humor in her mother’s voice? Lily wished she could crawl between the couch cushions and hide.
“Okay!”
Lily looked down at Chrysanthemum, who had curled into a ball and was laughing silently. How could she once have thought Chrysanthemum never laughed?
Luckily, Lily’s parents were too polite to grill Chrysanthemum the way Lily had feared, and even Sara was in a good mood. Sunday dinner conversations usually revolved around swimming, and it might have been Lily’s imagination, but her sister seemed relieved to not be the center of attention for a change.
“This cake looks amazing,”
Lily’s mother said, once the dinner dishes were cleared away.
“I almost don’t want to cut it.”
“Chrysanthemum’s mom is an excellent baker,”
Lily said.
“She makes the stuff they sell at Black Cat.”
“Does she?”
Lily’s mom turned Chrysanthemum’s way.
“Does she happen to take commissions? Adele Cook’s granddaughter is getting married next year, and I know they’d love to have another witch make the cake. Something like this, with just a bit more magic in it.”
“She’s looking to start her own bakery, actually. So I’m sure she’d be happy to talk to them,”
Chrysanthemum said eagerly.
“She’s been working on infusing magic into the decorations—keeping it subtle enough that normies sense it, but don’t get scared.”
Lily’s father’s face lit up.
“She should bring that idea to the Society board. A bakery that caters to the magical community could be a big draw for tourism. The possibilities …”
Lily’s face glazed over while her father rattled off the business opportunities, but Chrysanthemum appeared to pay attention. Her ability to maintain a blank expression in the face of pretty much anything was a useful talent. But Chrysanthemum also seemed to think some of what Lily’s father was saying might be of real use to her mom. Lily believed her when Chrysanthemum said she would tell her mom to get in touch with Mr. Allerton for his guidance.
“What are you celebrating, by the way?”
Lily’s mother asked.
“I heard you say something earlier.”
Oh shit. Lily glanced at Chrysanthemum, hoping she would know better than to say that they’d battled magical wits with foul magic—foul magic they’d created.
“Oh.”
Chrysanthemum smiled, and Lily understood her well enough now to see the way her eyes crinkled in the corners and know it was a mischievous sort of smile.
“It’s for Lily, to celebrate her being elected student council president.”
Lily gaped at her. She remembered telling Chrysanthemum that her parents had never acknowledged her election, but she hadn’t thought Chrysanthemum was paying much attention to her then. It was one of those things she’d blurted out.
The same sort of painful longing she’d felt last night when Chrysanthemum had first kissed her cheek squeezed Lily around the chest. She was barely aware of what else Chrysanthemum was saying or the way her parents reacted to the news as though it were the first they’d heard of it (which maybe it was, since they hadn’t paid attention before). She wanted to throw her arms around Chrysanthemum’s neck and bury her face in her hair. Squeeze her the way she felt squeezed.
Since she couldn’t do that, she smiled at Chrysanthemum as she accepted her parents’ belated congratulations.