Chapter 23 Living Room Tigers, Oh My #2
She sighed as she followed his lead. She wasn't a tall person, having taken after her mother's height, stopping at five foot three. Jeremy towered next to her.
She wondered what he would look like in ten years when a young man would morph into a man.
"You're thinking about coming around, aren't you?"
His cockiness was somehow not annoying her as much as she would expect. It was probably the snuggly cat purring against her chest.
"You really don't believe you're hexed?"
He shook his head. "Nope."
"So you just, all of a sudden took an incredibly intense interest in me, a nobody who you've only had to talk to in required class activities."
"Is it incredibly intense?" She watched him tilt his head, feigning a look of thinking and she smiled.
"You started showing up to my locker between classes, leaving notes, hijacked my phone number, showed up at The Lost Souls House, got me a cat, and you somehow know my work schedule."
"Man, sounds like you have a stalker. You should probably do a protection spell when you get home."
He was joking but she gave him a very serious look and said, "Actually, yeah. I should grab a raven's feather and some wild violets. Keep a lookout."
A look of weighing her words crossed his face as he looked at her then they laughed and she nearly stopped in her tracks at the sound.
Laughing with Jeremy Bracker was not something she could have imagined a few weeks ago.
Walking beside him with an orange cat snuggled in her arms named Tom Hanks that he brought her, as they joked about magic and she tried to convince him that he didn't truly like her was a fever dream.
"So your parents," she hedged, knowing how difficult it could be to talk about the people who created and raised you. Or were supposed to.
She thought of her mother, in a rehab center again, probably blaming her addictions on everyone, even on her, instead of taking responsibility.
Her Uncle Jay was her miracle. She knew that. He took her in without an ounce of hesitation. He'd been there for her since she first found her mom asleep in her own vomit when Bess was only five years old and had learned how to speed dial his phone number because he taught her.
And then Ursula came along and in a way, she felt like she was always meant to be the mother figure or older sister she needed. They connected.
She never felt out of place around her or Eloise or the other women that had become her family.
Walking onto the grounds of The Lost Souls put her at ease.
"My parents are not bad parents but also not going to be who I hope to turn out to be."
"They're obviously successful."
He laughed but it was hollow. "Sure. My dad owns a law firm. But he comes from old money."
"Ah, an East Egg situation."
"Yes. I will never be Gatsby I'm afraid."
She smiled. "I mean, he did die."
"Yeah, but there's something about making your own fortune that feels weightier."
Her eyes watched him from the side as they walked. "You know that he absolutely made his fortune from seedy sources, right?"
His quick smile made her heart leap. "I read the book," he laughed. "And your mom?"
She pulled in a deep breath at the question. Normally, she wouldn't talk about her mom, brushing it off as an unfriendly topic. But walking next to him she felt safer. Even knowing he was under a hex, she gave herself this moment. She felt like she could open that topic with him.
"In rehab. Again. I've lost count now."
He nodded. "Sorry."
She shrugged, feeling that familiar pang of anger. It was a companion of hers that had become quieter over the last year but was still there dragging itself out when her heart started to feel the vulnerability of grief or overwhelm.
She saw the woods that would lead them to The Lost Souls and immediately felt relief. As they stepped into the dark cover of trees, creating a thicker night than the open air, blooming balls of light glowed above where they walked, lighting their way.
"Whoa. That's pretty fucking cool," he said, craning his head and looking up at the bobbing orbs.
"Magic," she said simply. He slid her a sly look and she laughed. "I'm not kidding."
But she could tell he still wasn't buying it. The gravel road crunched under her boots and she pulled her army green oversized button-up closer to her body, thankful for the ball of fur lending her his warmth.
She was wearing black boots, black distressed shorts, and the oversized shirt with a black tank top underneath but with the July temperature deciding to play autumn dress up, she wished she had worn jeans.
"Well," Bess worried her lip and ran a hand over the cat's head as she stepped onto the second stair of the porch. "Thank you for walking me home. And for stealing a cat for me," she smirked at him.
"Will you call me?"
"Nope," she replied, a teasing tone but still honest.
"You're kind of difficult," he observed, but he was looking at her like he didn't mind it.
"And the women in my life have taught me that difficult women are the ones who shift history."
"Is that what you want? To shift history?"
She shook her head and backed up the steps. "My hopes and dreams are a conversation for someone who didn't eat hexed peach shortcake."
He smiled watching her retreat.
"At least tell me how you saved me in your phone," he called to her retreating back to which she simply waved at him as she pushed through the front door of The Lost Souls House with the moon phase glass.
The football player, the most popular guy in her class who until recently only knew her name and the rumors around her, watched her walk into the old house and close the door behind her. He couldn't help but feel bereft, a gaping thing as he was left alone.
He never minded being alone before. With popularity and money seemed to come the expectation that he would be an entertainer of others, holding court with those who also had status or those who wanted it.
But he relished evenings alone in his nice room where he could read or watch television. That was where he could breathe, release his shoulders from the tense way that they held him as he took care of everyone else's expectations.
No, he wasn't a poor rich boy. Poor handsome, popular Jeremy with the ability to throw a football and turn a girl's heart over with his smile.
His life was charmed.
And he knew that.
But still, there was a blessed feeling of ecstasy when he could be alone and himself. But then Bess had caught his attention.
The odd girl with a sharp tongue and expressive eyes, who walked through life like she didn't feel the need to give it anything she wasn't prepared to understand the cost of.
She was pretty, but in a subtle way that said she would become a striking woman over time. It was a patient kind of beauty that formed slowly as she bloomed all on her own, not needing anyone's permission. He wasn't sure he'd ever thought like that. And he had never talked with someone like that.
Maybe his aunt. His spinster aunt that his dad and sister liked to poke fun at for never having found a match, a wild risk for a woman in the Bracker family. But she was settled and at home with her oddities, which he found comforting.
His father found it discomforting, using his sister as an example of what Audrey should not strive for, and what Jeremy should consider steering clear of when settling down.
But Bess, whatever it was that put her in his orbit he was grateful for. He wouldn't go as far as to thank some witchy goddess for the introduction by way of magic, but still...
She made him feel not at odds with himself.
He turned around, starting back the way that they had come when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out and a grin split his face when he read the text from Bess. It was a screenshot of their text conversation.
The Guy that Won't Stop Talking to Me