Mystic Willow Bay, Witches Series: The Secret Life of a Witch Page 2

  “If you want to flirt, then go ahead.” My eyelids involuntarily shut as his breath dusts across my neck.

  For a lunatic of a moment, I get lost in the scent of his cologne, the feel of his chest brushing against my back, and the daydreaming images of me backing him into the wall and crashing my lips against his. Then I open my eyes to see my dead sister watching me curiously, and reality douses over me, reminding me of who I am—a person Hunter sees as a friend.

  Clearing my throat, I step forward to put some distance between us, and then turn around to face him. “Just don’t come complaining to me about all the girls stalking you. It’s your own damn fault for leading them on.”

  His lips part in shock. “How the hell do I lead them on?”

  Jeez. Guys can be so dense sometimes.

  “By flirting with them and telling them they’re pretty.”

  He aims a finger at me, seeming a little irritated, which is strange for Hunter since he’s usually all jokes and smiles. “Hey, I don’t tell them they’re pretty.”

  “You so do.”

  “Do not.” His lips expand into a charming grin as he sweeps his chin length blond hair out of his eyes. “In fact, you’re the only girl I’ve ever told is pretty.”

  I lightly pinch his chest, causing him to chuckle. “Don’t try to charm your way out of this.”

  “I’m not trying to charm my way out of anything. I’m giving you a compliment,” he insists, stealing a bit of my cereal. Then his face bunches in disgust. “That’s super soggy.”

  I try to breeze over his compliment and not let my stomach turn into a bundle of crazy butterflies. As much as I’d love to get all girlie, girlie, ah, that’s so sweet, let me swoon now, I’ve known Hunter since middle school, and he’s been a natural flirt pretty much since freshman year when he went from a gangly, bean pole to a lean, too-hot-for-his-own-good hottie.

  Don’t blush or give away any sign of swooniness. Focus on the conversation, Evalee. Don’t be a spaz and lose your best friend.

  I take the spoon away from him and toss it back into the bowl. “Well, it has been sitting in the bowl for, like, an hour.”

  He spits the cereal out on the floor then wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. “What the hell, Evalee? That’s disgusting. Why do you even have it down here?”

  “What? You didn’t have to eat it.”

  “Yeah, but you could’ve warned me not to when you saw me reaching for the spoon.”

  I bite back a grin. “I didn’t really think about it. I mean, I took a bite, like, ten minutes ago, and it tasted okay. So maybe you’re just super soggy-cereal sensitive.”

  “That’s not even a real thing.” He gives me a tolerant look. “And for future reference, if cereal has been sitting in a bowl for even half an hour, it’s probably soggy, and you should warn your most awesome friend in the world not to eat it, or he might just lose some of his awesomeness.”

  “Why? Does soggy cereal have magical, awesome stealing powers?” I joke.

  “Actually, smartass, it does.” He smirks as he lightly tugs on a strand of my hair. “But you really shouldn’t be ingesting milk that’s been out of the fridge for that long.”

  My brows pull together. “I thought it took a lot longer for milk to spoil.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Are you sure?”

  My sister lets out an exhausted groan. “Oh, my God, I take it back. You are a little weirdo. And so is Hunter. Seriously, how can you two worry about the expiration of milk when you both just ate cereal that’s two inches away from my rotting corpse leg?”

  I turn around to shoot her a warning look. “Don’t start on me about this again.”

  Her eyes glimmer mischievously. “Start on what? I didn’t really say anything.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “Yeah, but you were about to mention that thing you’re always bugging me about, which you’re completely wrong about.”

  “I’m not completely wrong about it,” she insists. “Hunter’s in love with you, and you need to get your head out of Low Self-Esteem Land and realize this so you can make your move before someone else does.”

  I sneak a casual glance in Hunter’s direction and cringe when I note him observing me intently. Yeah, I know he can’t hear my sister, but that doesn’t make me any less squirrely.

  “Is Ryleigh talking to you?” he asks without removing his gaze from mine.

  I nod, fidgeting with a leather band on my wrist. “Yeah, she’s been pretty chatty this morning.”

  “I have, huh?” Ryleigh grumbles, going back into miserable mode again.

  “That’s a good sign, right? That she isn’t going to fade anytime soon?” Hunter asks, moving up to the table to glance at the opened textbook.

  I choke up at the reminder that, if I don’t save her, eventually Ryleigh will rot into bones that I’ll no longer be able to chat with.

  Not wanting to worry either of them, I keep an upbeat tone as I lie, plastering a fake smile on my face. “Yeah, that’s definitely a good sign.”

  Concern swirls in Hunter’s eyes as he looks at me. When his lips start to part, I aim a pleading look at him.

  Please, please, please don’t talk about this in front of Ryleigh, I silently beg.

  “So, what class is this for?” He breezily changes the subject, glancing down at the textbook again.

  I could hug him right now for being able to understand what I need without me actually having to verbalize it. “It’s for Experimental Magic Insanity Therapy.”

  “You’re taking that class? Since when?”

  “Since I signed up for it at the beginning of fall semester.”

  “You never mentioned taking it.”

  “I didn’t really think it was important.” I reach for the book as he puts his hand down on mine.

  “You told me every other class you were taking”—his intense gaze carries mine—“except this one. Why is that?”

  “Must’ve slipped my mind,” I reply with a shrug. Inside, my heart hammers deafeningly, though.

  Please don’t figure out the real reason. That sometimes I secretly wonder if a experimental treatment could cure me from being the town’s magic ditz.

  “No, it didn’t. And it’s weird that you’re taking this class when you hate everything that experimental treatment represents.” Worry lines crease his forehead. “Eva, is this about—”

  “It’s not about anything. I was bored when I signed up for the class; that’s all.” I wiggle my hand out from under his then shut the book. “I have to get to class. I’m running late already.” Swallowing the guilt crammed into my throat, I hug my books to my chest and hurry toward the crooked stairway that leads to the main floor of the house.

  Truthfully, I know my fleeing escape won’t do any good. Even before we started college a month ago and decided to rent a house together, Hunter never let me off the hook from much of anything. And now I don’t even have the option of running away and hiding out at my own place.

  He chases after me, his boots thudding against the floor. “Don’t run off. We need to talk.”

  I quicken my pace, taking the stairs two by two. “There’s nothing to talk about. I swear.”

  “Then why are you running away from me?”

  “Because I don’t want to be late for class.”

  “That’s not the reason.” He runs up the stairs behind me. “You’re avoiding telling me why you took that class.”

  When I reach the top of the stairs, I stumble over the threshold and into the messy laundry room. “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about this. So I took a class about experimental magical treatments. It’s not some life changing decision.”

  After tripping over three piles of dirty clothes, I make it to the hallway and scramble toward my bedroom. He jogs after me, and I take off into a run, swerving around the boxes littering the hallway.

  “This isn’t just some class you took because you were bored,” he says from right
behind me. “I know you, and well enough that I can figure out the real reason.”

  “There isn’t a real reason. I’m not that mysterious. And you should know this by now—” I trip over a box and lose my balance. My wand and book fly from my arms. Sparks shoot from the end of my wand and blast the light green walls with spots of the most awful shade of brown.

  Crap. My roommates are going to be so pissed.

  But I have bigger problems to deal with right now. Like not falling flat on my face and escaping.

  I move to regain my balance, but Hunter trips into me from behind. We lose our footing and both go down hard. I land flat on my back, my head knocking against the hardwood floor.

  Cursing, Hunter tumbles on top of me, managing to put his hands out and stopping himself from completely crushing me. Although, I must say, if I had to die, getting crushed by him would be a pretty decent way to go; with his hair tickling my forehead, buried in his scent, squashed beneath his solid chest.

  Mmmm … He smells so nice …

  With a hand positioned on each side of my head, he holds his weight up and stares down at me. “Are you okay?”

  Those damn butterflies I just told to shut the hell up are no longer listening to me. Thankfully, I’ve spent many years learning how to sound cool as a freaking freeze spell during hot, fiery, skin damping, breath catching Hunter moments such as these.

  “Am I okay?” I playfully pat him on his scruffy cheek. “Hunter, Hunter, Hunter, my dear sweet friend, with how many times you’ve seen me bust my ass, you should know better than to even ask that question.”

  He bites back his amusement. “And you should know better than to think I’ll stop asking you if you’re okay. Besides, this fall was kind of my fault.”

  I nod, secretly hoping he’s forgotten about why he was chasing me. “Man, you’re such a meanie, pushing down a girl like that.”

  His brow quirks. “Push?”

  I nod, fighting back a grin. “And I always thought you were a gentleman, but I guess I was wrong. Makes me wonder what else I don’t know about you.”

  An undecipherable look flashes across his expression. “Actually, there’s a lot of stuff you don’t know about me.”

  I can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but the idea doesn’t sit well with me. I mean, we’ve been friends for almost eight years. That has to mean we know each other inside and out, right? Then again, he doesn’t know I’m in love with him. That’s one tiny, little thing, though.

  No, he has to be teasing me.

  “You’re such a liar,” I say with a grin. “I know everything about you.”

  “Everything, huh?” A challenge dances in his eyes. “You really think so?”

  I feel like I’m walking into a trap, but I dive in, anyway, hoping to entirely distract him from the reason we fell to begin with. “Um, yeah. We’ve been friends forever; how can I not?”

  His eyes twinkle wickedly. “Prove it, then. What color underwear am I wearing?”

  My nose scrunches. “Ew, gross.”

  His eyes narrow, but it’s a playful move. “You think my underwear is gross?”

  I wrestle back the goofy, lustful smile wanting to possess my face. No, Hunter, not at all. And I’d love to see you in it.

  “I don’t know. Depends on the last time you washed them.”

  He stares at me, unimpressed. “You think I don’t wash my underwear?”

  I shrug, the movement awkward while trapped beneath him. “I’m not sure. I don’t have any brothers, but from what Peyton tells me, boys can do some pretty disgusting things when it comes to personal hygiene. At least her brothers do.”

  “That’s because Peyton’s brothers are vampires. And everyone knows vampires aren’t known for being the cleanest creatures.” As he adjusts his position, his hips lightly touch mine. A total accidental move, but the contact makes my skin glitter like pixie dust.

  “And everyone knows that vampires can hear almost anything!” Peyton, one of our roommates, shouts from upstairs. “You know, for a wizard who’s supposed to be the next Mystic Willow Bay Star Wizard, you really don’t seem to know very much about your own townspeople.”

  I internally cringe at the mention of the title. Every decade or so, a powerful, charming wizard and witch get hand-selected by the Wizard and Witches Committee to become the Mystic Willow Bay Star Wizard and Wonder Witch, which is pretty much a fancy schmancy name for being a mascot for witches and wizards. Some people view the position as gaining celebrity status, and a lot of the townspeople nearly swoon themselves to death whenever they spot the current Star Wizard, aka Hunter’s older brother.

  Hunter despises the fact that his brother let the title go to his head, but what he loathes even more is knowing that this year he has a good chance of being selected as the new Star Wizard. At least, according to the rumors fluttering around town, he does.

  Hunter’s expression deflates. “I’m not going to be the next Star Wizard. Even if I am, I wouldn’t call myself that.”

  “What are you going to call yourself, then? The Super Duper Star Wizard?” Peyton cackles with malicious laughter. “Face it, Hunter; you’re just as egotistical as your brother. And when you officially get chosen as this town’s next Most Vain Wizard in the World, you’ll end up just like him—with a head too big to fit through a doorway.”

  Hunter’s lips curl. “Don’t be bitter just because my brother broke up with you.”

  “I’m not bitter!” she snaps over a loud bang. “I don’t give a flying sprite’s ass that your stupid, egotistical brother broke up with me. What I do care about is that he treats all of his old friends like shit now that he thinks he’s Mr. Wonderful.”

  Hunter’s lips part, but before he can fire a comeback, I cover his mouth with my hand.

  “Let it go,” I mouth. “Or she’ll go on all day.”

  While Peyton’s cool and everything, she never backs down from a fight. She can’t help it, though. Stubbornness comes with the territory of being a vampire. Just like trickery is part of being a faerie. As is moodiness with wolves. And cockiness with witches and wizards. Occasionally, these traits do skip a generation, like with Opal, our other roommate who’s a faerie.

  I’ve known Opal since grade school and consider her one of my closest friends. She never pulls pranks on anyone, or tricks them with glamour.

  “Got nothing to say?” Peyton singsongs. “Guess that means I’m right.”

  Hunter targets me with a dirty look. I keep my hand over his mouth, urging him to be quiet.

  “Your silence means I win, Super Duper Star Wizard,” Peyton continues. “And you lose.”

  Hunter’s lips twitch against the palm of my hand. “Please let me put her in her place,” he mumbles.

  I shake my head and hold up a finger with my other hand. “Wait for it,” I mouth.

  One, two, three seconds tick by, and then …

  “Whatever, Hunter. Just give up and ruin all my fun,” Peyton huffs through the thudding of stomping footsteps.

  A handful of seconds later, a door bangs shut and the house grows quiet.

  I lower my hand from his lips. “She likes the thrill of a fight,” I whisper. “Take that away, and she’ll stop.”

  “Or we could just take her away to a faraway land and never have to deal with her ever again,” he suggests quietly with a thoughtful grin.

  “She’s not bad all the time.” I keep my voice low in case Peyton is still eavesdropping. “Just in the mornings and afternoons.”

  “And nights and every other hour of every other day.” He sighs audibly when I give him a stern look. “Look, I know she’s your friend, but I don’t get why she had to move in with us.”

  “Because she needed a place to stay.”

  “Why, though? That part was never explained to me.”

  “Sorry, but I promised Peyton I wouldn’t tell.” I offer him an apologetic smile.

  He grimaces. “Can’t we at least search for another place for her? Four people i
n a two-bedroom house is too much. And I hate sleeping on the sofa.” He juts out his lip. “It’s lumpy.”

  “It’s not lumpy. It’s got character. And you used to say it was comfortable,” I tell him, pushing his jutted lip back in. “I think you’re just being pouty because you don’t want Peyton living with us.”

  “Maybe. But I do miss having a bed to sleep in.”

  “You can always sleep in my bed if you want.” The words leave my lips without any forethought, and I instantly want to retract them. Not because I dislike the idea of him sharing a bed with me—under the right circumstances, that’d be a dream come true—but I’m fairly sure I’d end up lying awake all night, haunted by sexual frustration. And what happens if my hands wander and do things while I am sleeping?

  Before I can joke off the remark, his eyes light up.

  “Seriously?” he asks. “Because that’d be awesome.”

  Please, please, witches in the sky, kill me now.

  I put on my best fake smile. “Yep, mi casa es su casa. Or, I guess, mi habitación es su habitación.”

  He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and smiles down at me, making those butterflies go all sorts of mad crazy. “You really are a great friend, Eva.”

  Aw, the friend zone, a place I begrudgingly am forced to call my home.

  My smile remains shining on the outside, but on the inside, I’m a clusterfuck of frownie faces. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see if you’re still saying that when I hog all the covers and take up three-quarters of the bed.”

  “That’s perfectly okay with me,” he assures. “And it beats waking up every morning to Opal’s brownie licking my face.”

  A giggle slips past my lips. “I’m pretty sure Starry isn’t going to stop doing that just because you’re sleeping in my room.”

  “Yeah, it will,” he insists. “Because I’ll lock the door.”