Chapter Five
And just like that… he came back. Schuyler channeled his best Carrie Bradshaw as he stood at the counter in the shop, watching the lothario who’d occupied his mind the entire previous day and night, the one who’d made him feral, now walking up the street.
Does he know the effect he has on me? Do I?
Much like the day before, the young man seemed perplexed. As if he didn’t know where he was, or that what he sought ought to be right in front of him, but wasn’t. The only difference today was the pink-and-white striped shirt so tight against his body it appeared painted on.
Schuyler, happy to be a spectator, silently wished for the cutie to come back into the store.
He could help him; there was plenty he could assist with.
Sky let out a little giggle, feeling ridiculous to be like, Come here sexy, I got what you need.
The truth was, Schuyler wasn’t certain that even if he did attempt to speak to the handsome young man, he’d get the desired response.
A truth he avoided thinking about yesterday to allow his vivid sexual fantasies to play out unspoiled.
“Well, hello there, stranger.”
Schuyler drew his attention back from the window and greeted Cal, who stood in front of him. “Hey you,” he greeted warmly, “how are you?” He went to ring up whatever Cal had brought up, but there was nothing.
Cal noticed the confused look. “Just came in ’cause I saw you were here and wanted to say hi.”
“Too kind,” Schuyler exclaimed and tried to not allow himself to sneak glances out the window, yearning for another glimpse before the object of his lust disappeared. “I appreciate the visit.”
“Was hoping we could have dinner together tonight, if you didn’t have other plans?”
“I don’t actually, I’d be down for some grub.”
“Nice,” Cal replied, seeming relieved. “You hadn’t responded to my messages on the app, so I wasn’t sure where we were at with all that.”
“All of what? Cal, I gave you my number, if you want to text me, just text me. The apps are for strangers we’re trying to get to know. We’re already friends. You can text friends.”
“You’re right.”
“I usually am,” Schuyler said dryly but still unserious. “Though I didn’t expect you’d want to hang out again. You seemed annoyed last time when we didn’t go home together.”
“Oh,” Cal stammered, caught off guard by Schuyler’s bluntness. “Well… I mean… I’d been thinking about us, when we used to hang out, and guess I figured, maybe for old times’ sake we would have—selfish of me, I know.”
“Nah, you’re good. I get it, I’d want to sleep with me too,” Schuyler joked, “but that really wasn’t on my mind. I was happy to have dinner and catch up with my friend.” Schuyler greeted two new customers who began their tour around the store and returned his attention to Cal. “But it’s all good.”
“So… there’s a chance?” Cal’s eyes lit up, and for a moment, Schuyler saw not the aged face hiding the scars of his over-glamouring, but the youthful one he warmly remembered.
“Cal, if it happens, it’ll happen. How about we remove the pressure of the idea for now and have dinner as friends. Would that be okay?”
Cal brightened up more, “I’d love it.”
“Okay then, tonight at what, 7?”
“Sure,” Cal spotted the customers approaching the counter and backed away, heading for the exit, “I’ll… um… text you.” He lingered awkwardly in the doorway a minute as Schuyler smiled and nodded before turning his attention to his customers.
Cal’s visit was the only break in the monotony of the day: customers, stocking, daydreaming about the cute boy, customers, cleaning, customers, daydreaming about the cute boy, customers.
There were thirty minutes left ’till closing when daydreams merged into reality, and the young man walked into the store.
“Hello,” Schuyler said, instantly embarrassed by speaking an octave higher than normal, and quickly trying to cover it, “how are you?”
“Yeah, Hi.” The words sounded like they should be polite, but the delivery was more indifferent than anything.
“You looking for something specific?” Schuyler, ready to solve the case of what had been perplexing the young man, stepped out from behind the counter.
The young man forced a smile, clearly annoyed at being asked questions.
“I was told this town was full of witchy shops, and yet none of these places have what I’m looking for.
And it doesn’t make sense. But…thank you, I’ll look around and let you know if I need anything.
” The young flippant man, who in two sentences ruined Schuyler’s fantasy about him, turned around and perused the shelves himself.
Not surprised, as Schuyler had called it, though still a tad jarring.
He tried to think of excuses for the young man while also trying to not eye fuck the delicious thing as he wandered around the entire store.
Maybe the young man was tired, not his best self; frustrated people often lashed out. Or maybe, he was an asshole.
Not yet ready to write him off, Schuyler found there was something about the young man that captivated him. If anything, he’d enjoy these few moments getting to see the beautiful man as up close as possible.
“Oh my god,” he whined loudly to himself, as he speedily looked at every item and then at his phone, then at the items again. “I’m so over this. This spell. This place. Ugh!” He gave up and headed to the door.
“Are you certain I can’t help you find something?” Schuyler asked, unsure why he was extending such graciousness when it had been met with snark and sass earlier.
The young man sighed loudly, defeated, and said, “Fine,” in a huff before walking over to the counter. He set his phone down, sliding it over to Schuyler. “I need these to do this spell I want to try, and I can’t find them anywhere around here.”
Schuyler read the items written down in the note app, and while something about the list seemed familiar, like a passage from a book he’d once read but failed to recall completely, he could not immediately place the items. “I see how frustrating this is. I don’t really recognize any of these names. ”
The young man groaned, whining about how over the entire ordeal he was, and how Bairwick was nonsense. His life had not worked out for him, apparently.
“Oh by the Goddesses, stop with the whiney shit dude, hella annoying. I’m literally still trying to help you.” Schuyler felt none of the need or motivation to impress him, or be nice for that matter, “I can probably figure this out if you give me a minute.”
The young man ceased speaking and went quiet. Not expecting to be spoken to in such a harsh manner, he appeared unsure how to proceed—opening his mouth to speak but then stopping.
“Sorry,” he finally said, “been a long couple of days and there’s not even a hotel in this town, have to keep coming over on the fucking ferry.”
“Understood,” Schuyler said curtly. “Well, again, these aren’t anything I’ve heard of, but they feel familiar and I’m trying to place them. I need to check if you copied these into this note correctly.”
The audacity of Schuyler to ask. “Um… of course I did, I do know how to write something down.”
Schuyler held his frustration inside, but part of him wanted to fly across the small floating counter and smack the shit out of the young man, but he restrained. “I mean, from the original spell? I’m just checking.”
The young man whined again, every time further ruining his attractiveness. “Like, yes. From the journal the spell was written in, okay.”
“Oh, so this is a homebrewed spell. Then these could be alternate names, or they’re written in code.
Some witches would leave spells in codes.
This one wanted to make you work for it.
I’d go to the library, and try to research these names, find a possible country of origin, and see where that leads.
Witchcraft is older than the written word; everything we use in our conjurations has had a hundred different names. ”
“Library? There’s no library here. I’ve been up and down this over-hyped strip mall multiple times.” He turned up his nose at Main Street through the window.
“This is my home you’re talking about. I’m sorry, hold on,” he could sense the young man was a Natural Witch, his aura having the tell-tale glow, but a nagging thought appeared to him out of the ether. “Do you know where you are?”
“Um, fuck kind of question is that? I’m in the tourist trap that is Bairwick, aren’t I? Like the place where kitsch comes to die.”
Wow, I really wanted to like this guy.
“My uncle’s journal said he lived here when he was a kid, but maybe he was delusional, or stupid, ’cause this place is one street and who the fuck even lives here and like don’t get me started on the–” There was a rumble in his stomach, and the young man froze.
His beautiful green eyes went wide, his lips pursed as he grabbed his stomach.
He shook his head, even stepping back in an attempt to prevent the rather robust release of gas.
The rush of wind escaped the young man’s ass and gently parted Schuyler’s beard as it passed him. The young man, mortified, stood in silence.
Schuyler resisted saying anything. They stared at each other, not moving, only their eyes blinking. Another, smaller toot, determined not to be left behind, followed; it broke Schuyler into hysterics.
“Oh my god.” The young man, still frozen in place, looked as if he was about to bolt for the exit. “I thought all that had passed.”
“Oh, I’d say it passed alright,” Schuyler joked, attempting to silence his giggles.
“I’m, mortified. It’s been all afternoon, stupid cheese fries.”
“There’s no need to be it was hilarious. You were being a gigantic asshole and then… well. I mean, how it slung around to hit me in the face—impressive.” The giggles returned, and the young man, though resisting, eventually broke down into laughter.