24. Rowan
Rowan
We’re still damp when we’re back in the car. No food in our bellies, but I’m still laughing. Happy.
I don’t care about anything else when I’m with him.
But I can’t say the same for him. Every little thing that seems to go wrong sets Seth right on edge, and that’s more frustrating to me than a fire or a bickering couple. He truly won’t let himself have anything good, will he? Even now?
But this is all I’ve ever wanted. It’s supposed to be my dream come true.
I rub my fingers together as he turns on the heater. Being wet is bad enough, but being wet in the cold is a recipe for disaster. Luckily, with a muttered incantation to the sun, it won’t take long for us to warm up.
“My mom would say you’re going to get a cold,” he whispers, plucking at my wet hair.
“That’s a myth.” I smile, warmth filling my chest, and run my fingers through his hair—a paltry attempt at drying his hair off with magic, too.
He closes his eyes and relaxes into my touch. “I knew I was going to ruin our first date.”
“Hey, look at me.” I tug his hair, and he listens. “You ruined nothing.”
“No?”
There’s a nagging feeling in the back of my mind—that he didn’t ruin it at all. His hex did. And if I were to think deeper, I might note that his hex exclusively seems to interrupt dates. Not sex. Note worthy.
But we’re not working on breaking the hex anymore. If it’s still in effect, all we can do is wait it out.
Easier than that is mentally repeating an affirmation to myself: there is no hex.
I shake my head. “Never. I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I guess… the date isn’t over yet.” He looks me up and down. “Unless you’re too cold to keep going?”
“I’m not.”
Some people—likely wiser than I am—would give up at the first sign of something going wrong. But one thing, even two things, only create a more interesting story for the future.
“Where to next?”
“Okay. Vibe reset.” Seth bounces back as swiftly as he always does, backing out of our parking spot. “No matter what happens, I’m going to be in a good mood once we’re there. You’ll like this. Probably more than the restaurant, I think.”
“I believe you.”
When we arrive, it’s clear he’s right—this is more my idea of a first date.
A science museum, one I’ve admittedly been to before, but I know they have new exhibits.
But it’s more than a museum. At night, it’s flashy and adult-oriented.
Nothing sensual, of course, but lights, drinks, and a higher caliber of information.
It’s a good way to trick adults into continuing their learning, though I’ve never needed to resort to such schemes.
I can’t believe Seth put together something so thoughtful.
“They have a lot of star displays tonight,” he says. “I’ve heard some people are getting high and coming, but, uh… I’m not. Obviously. I still thought you would like it.”
“You thought right.” I reach for my seatbelt. “Let’s go.”
Seth, someone who often lives in the moment—and has occasionally encouraged me to do the same—planned an entire date for me.
He planned multiple things. For me. Perhaps it shows more about my expectations of him than anything else, but I can’t help but feel special as we enter my favorite museum together.
Stars project around the room, and clouds magically float about in the air. I run my fingers through them, and they disappear. This place is the intersection of science and magic, something that is so dear to me—as a devotee of Athena and as a practitioner of astrological magic.
Lightning strikes and thunder rumbles; the magic is almost strong enough to feel real, and I turn to Seth with a giant smile. “Come on.”
I tug him along the museum, and the words of tour guides float through the space, along with polite laughter from others in attendance.
“Did you know every star we can see is bigger than the sun?” I ask, coming to a giant display of our sun, a yellow dwarf.
Heat radiates from the display, and while it’s safe to look at, it lights up the entire room. A stark contrast to the starlit rooms we came from.
“I don’t know anything.” He chuckles and rubs the back of my hand with his thumb. “Tell me more.”
“It’s estimated to be four point six billion years old, and it’s the largest object in our solar system.”
“Really?” He lifts his eyebrows. “Bigger than Jupiter?”
“Mhm.”
“Which is your favorite? I mean, of all the objects.”
“Hard decision.” I drag him from the room, back into the pitch black of the rest of the museum. “They all play an important role. I can pick a least favorite, though.”
“Which one?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Pluto. Everyone pretended to care when he was no longer a planet, but he was hardly a planet to begin with. It was all so… fake.”
“Rowan!” He laughs, a sound that always creates heat in the pit of my belly.
“What?” I lift a shoulder. “You asked.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“But it’s more fun to talk about.” I glance around until I spot a small stand with drinks and food. “Come on. Let’s grab a cocktail.”
Their cocktails aren’t anywhere near as nice as the ones at Juniper’s tavern, nor do they possess the same magic, but they have a small glowing ball in them. Cute. We sip them as we wander around the museum, and for the first time in days, weeks—maybe months—I feel like I can relax.
“I have to say,” I whisper. “I think this is a better idea than the restaurant was.”
“Yeah?” He perks up.
I nod.
“I was… maybe trying to impress you with that.” He winces. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m not a dinner date kind of guy.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to impress me. You already have me.”
“But I want to.” He peers at me earnestly. “I want to be better for you. I want to do this right.”
My expression softens and, still holding the drink in one hand, I lean in and kiss him softly. “You are the best.”
And I believe it. My affection for Seth has never been about changing or fixing him.
My love for him was unconditional, even when he was at his wildest, even when I told myself he was nothing like my usual type.
It still is. Perhaps that’s why I’ve always loved him so much, and I fight the urge to tell him the truth dangling from the tip of my tongue.
We sit down on a bench and sip our drinks with stars floating around us.
“The only thing that would have been better is stargazing, but it’s too cold. Soon, though. This spring.”
It comes with a heavy assumption—that we’ll still be together in that time, even though this is our first date. My face flushes, but Seth doesn’t seem to think of it.
“Hopefully you’ll have more time to hang out then?” he says. “Be working a little less.”
I grimace. “I doubt it. That’s tax season.”
“Damn.” He takes a drink. “You know you’re overworking yourself, though, right?”
I let out a surprised laugh. “I’ve never known you to be so blunt.”
He’s certainly made hints, the same as Juniper, and he’s done small things to take work off my plate. Hearing him state it so factually is amusing—and infuriating. It’s not as if I can do anything about it.
“What?” he says. “It’s true! It’s always been true.”
“Well… yes, I know, but I’ve been doing it for years. I was the one making the most money of my sisters then, and I suppose I still am. It’s a sense of responsibility. Necessity.”
Though Seth only nods, quieter than I’ve ever known him to be, I know he’s listening.
He can see me, and he understands the responsibilities I’m carrying.
My sisters are all doing better now, but I still want to be the one they can depend on, even if they rarely seem to realize how much weight I’m carrying.
“We’ll both have to slow down soon,” he says. “For our next date, I’m taking you on a relaxing weekend… spa… thing.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Do you think that’s possible with our schedules?”
“I’ll make it happen.”
“And what about your work? I know you’re managing the coffee shop now, but…”
“I’m happy to focus on that for now,” he says. “It gave me enough of a raise that I could quit the odd jobs, and Donnie said I can start helping with his side of things—the florist side. I think that’s what I want.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I was thinking of starting up Mom’s garden again.”
His mother’s garden: beautiful vegetables, flowers, and herbs.
She used to sell them to our mother, other local witches, and at the farmer’s market.
The vegetation began drying up when she lost the energy to be out there in the sun, and the thought of Seth bringing the garden back makes my heart soar.
This will be good. For him. For us. For everyone.
“I think that’s a splendid idea,” I say earnestly.
We stay on the bench for some time, chatting as though we haven’t seen each other in ages, and have a few more cocktails—until an idea comes to me.
“Come,” I say. “I have one more thing to show you.”
“I’m supposed to be the one taking you on a date,” he says. “Are you telling me you’ve been here before?”
“Oh, many times.” I set my drink down and lead him through the winding place, my fingers woven with his. “But to me, that only makes it even more special. You knew I would like it here, and I do.”
“And now you’re taking me to…” He looks up at the door, his brows drawing together.
“Well. Yes.”
I drag Seth into the room—a solo bathroom, thankfully, and a spotless one—and swiftly lock it behind us. This museum has always boasted lovely restrooms, with soft lighting, gentle music, and even a shelf of books to choose from while using the facilities.
But that’s not why I’m here.
“Ro.” He lets out breathless laughter. “What are we…?”
I lift an eyebrow and bite my lip, waiting for him to catch up.
After a few seconds, his eyes widen, his lips parting. “Is this a prank?”
I roll my eyes. “No, I needed a moment alone with you. That’s all.”
The lump in his throat bobs as he nods. Up and down, over and over. “I, uh—didn’t expect you to be so adventurous, to be honest.”
“Should I be offended? You assumed I would be boring, even after what we did last time?”
“No. No, it’s not that—not at all. But this is—”
He’s about to ramble. I can tell, and I stop it, snaking my arms around his neck and bringing him down to my level.
Our lips press together in a way that’s becoming easy, and he envelops me, pressing me against the wall. My legs wrap around him, and even though my body has been changing over the last few years—larger, stronger—he doesn’t seem to struggle to keep me up and pinned against the wall.
Perhaps this isn’t the place for this. In the daytime? Certainly not, but on a night like this…
I can’t stop. I can’t keep my mouth from him. When his fingers move between my thighs, past my underwear, I let him. When he lowers onto his knees and brings me back to the floor, with one of my legs wrapped around his neck, I let that happen as well.
His mouth on my heat is, by far, the best way to end the best date of my life. Sprinklers be damned.
Even the odd looks we get on the way out—likely thanks to our messy hair and swollen lips—can’t bring me down.