Chapter 9 March 2018
Jas
“Well?” Celeste bumps her shoulder against mine. I can hear the excitement in her voice now that she is home. “What do you think?”
What do I think?
I’ve never seen anything quite like this.
This is my first time in Everly Hollow. It is one of the few enchanted small towns people talk about.
The town square is full of life—cottage-like storefronts and brick-fronted boutiques.
Along the cobblestone streets, market vendors are set up to showcase and sell their treasures and goods.
Pastel floral wreaths hang from the streetlamps, colorful yellow ribbon streaming from post to post. My fingers play with the ends of my braid, draped over my shoulder, which Celeste had woven flowers and ribbons into.
She made herself a floral crown on her black pixie cut, the bright blossoms making her blue eyes glow.
She wanted us to look special for the festival. Her magic never ceases to amaze me.
“It really is magical,” I murmur.
There are so many people, mythical beings, some I’ve never seen in my life. I saw a small dragon earlier with scales shimmering in deep reds, oranges, and golds! It looked like autumn, flying in the air. A fucking dragon!
Orcs, trolls, minotaurs, fae, and pixies. I’m not the only human here either. In the city, more magical creatures are immersing themselves with humans, but to come here and see this small hidden gem, it’s a beauty of its own kind.
“Where do you want to start?” she asks, bouncing on her toes.
I’m unable to make eye contact right now because my eyes snag on the floating clouds of cotton candy.
“I would tell you to pick,” I say, scanning the square, “but considering our breakfast was nothing more than coffee and powdered donuts from the gas station, I say let's grab lunch first, and I wouldn’t say no to cotton candy.”
She laughs, grabs my wrist, and pulls me towards the closest food booth, where cheesy burgers sizzle on a large griddle.
The line at Groves Bee Farms seems to stretch forever and tells me everything I need to know: their products are in high demand.
Celeste drifts away, drawn to her coven’s booth, where crystals glimmer, herbs hang in fragrant bunches, and jars of moonlight glow softly.
She felt bad for abandoning me for a bit, but it's her family. Who am I to say no? I’m happy she has one.
I also don’t mind exploring on my own. I’m used to it.
I shuffle forward as the line moves, grateful for the progress as cool raindrops fall on my skin. The light shower turns the air misty around us.
Finally reaching the large tent-covered stand, I survey what is left: scented beeswax candles, lotion, lip balms, and a single jar of honey. The shopkeeper is nowhere in sight.
Glass clinks from behind the booth, and finally, someone appears. Tall, cute, and what in the world…who is this standing here, muscles flexing as he sets the crate on the table?
When he looks up, time freezes. His gaze locks with mine.
His eyes are green like a lush forest—vibrant and intense.
Golden freckles scatter his cheeks. My fingers tingle with the urge to touch his sun-streaked hair, trace the curved point of his ears—one is pierced with a small gold hoop—and it is so damn sexy.
I want to caress his sharp jawline, sculpted by the Goddess of Beauty herself.
“Sorry,” he says, restocking the table.
His voice, deep and smooth, pulls me back to focus.
"You're fine...I mean—" I pick at a flower in my braid, before tucking a loose curl behind my ear. "It's okay."
What the hell is wrong with me? Campus is crawling with attractive guys, so why is this particular one turning me into such a helpless mess?
He laughs, and the lopsided grin that comes after…
I’m ruined.
"What can I get you?" he asks. He sets the empty crate on the ground before leaning on the table, resting his palms flat against the cloth.
My breath stutters. “Um…” Come on, girl, hold it together. “May I have three jars and a lip balm?”
“Alright," he says, setting three jars aside. He nods his head towards the basket. “Go ahead and pick one you want, and I’ll get these ready.”
I nod, my feet already taking me to the basket.
“I haven’t seen you around here before,” he says happily. Like it’s exciting, he gets to meet someone new. I think I would probably be excited too. Living here in this place of wonder.
I select lavender and hand it to him, my fingertips gently grazing his palm. The contact feels like a buzz—a shock of static electricity. With his gaze fixated on me, I know he felt it too. He drops it in the bag and adds the jars of honey to a cardboard carrier.
“It’s my first time here,” I say, taking it all in, glancing over at the booths beside him, “it’s magical, like something out of a fairytale.”
“Well, I hope you are enjoying yourself. Come with a prince charming or—” he asks, folding the top of the bag down till it hits the top of the logo printed on the bag, a fuzzy honeybee, hovering over the tops of three honey jars.
He doesn’t hesitate to get to the point, does he? “Smooth.” I chuckle. “Real smooth.”
He smirks, giving me a light shrug. “I had to ask.”
“I’m here with my friend Celeste.”
Brows rising, he nods his head, tucking the lip balm into a little brown pouch before adding it to the bag.
“You two go to school together in the city?”
Of course, he knows Celeste. “Yes.”
“So…no boyfriend?”
I shake my head, unable to contain the laughter bubbling out of my throat. “I don’t even know your name.”
The corner of his lips curves upward. I memorize it and upload it to memory. I dig through my crossbody bag, fingers fumbling around my wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
“How about I give you the special? Buy one jar, get two free.”
My eyes scan the booth for any promotional signs. “Seriously? No, you don’t—”
“It’s for a good cause,” he says, cutting me off. His fingers drum a rhythm on the table.
I hold my wallet, shifting my weight. “A good cause, you say?”
He winks, holding out his hand to accept payment. When I place the bills in his hand, his thumb skims across my knuckles. The touch sends a sharp awareness through my arm, leaving me breathless.
“Yeah,” he says, putting the money in a small cash box. "If I give you my name, I hope you'll give me yours. I’m Aaryn.”
“Jasmira,” I say, and the name tumbles out before I can stop it, “but everyone who knows me calls me Jas.”
“Jas.” When he repeats it, his mouth quirks, and the tips of his pointed ears turn the color of a strawberry.
Yep. I’m ruined.