Page 11 of Spell Ya Later

“You’re here to spend time with your sister amongst the living. We’ll eat a burger, have a drink or two, and then go back to your apartment to watch a stupid movie together,” Laura says, taking my hand in hers. “I promise I won’t torture you for long.”

I take a deep breath. “Fine.”

I’m not antisocial per se. I just don’t see how I’m supposed to connect with people when I don’t even have a connection with myself.

Good job, Hazel, very poignant.

We walk over to the corner booth and sit. I watch Laura scan the crowd hovering around the bar. She’s single again and I cantell she’s on the prowl for her next victim. So much for spending time together.

I can’t really blame her, though. Finding a connection with someone would be wonderful.

Sometimes I hate how easy it is for Laura to make connections, regardless of how fleeting. She doesn’t keep guys around for longer than a month or two, but at least she’s out there.

“I see a group of handsome guys!” Laura says with a squeal. She casually flits her eyes to the bar.

“You always do,” I tease, but I follow her gaze anyway.

The breath whooshes out of my lungs. My heart stops beating in my chest. The entire world quiets as if someone pressed the pause button on reality. Or like someone slipped noise-canceling headphones on my head.

It’s the eyes.

Theeyes.

The dark brown, almost black, eyes I’ve been drawing for weeks now. They’ve plagued my dreams, dominated my sketches, and now they’re here. Watching me.

They belong to a strong-jawed, lanky man with tousled brown hair and bushy eyebrows.

My whole body flushes, heat burning my cheeks so quickly I have to raise a hand to check I didn’t catch fire.

“Something catch your eye?” Laura’s voice is way too proud. Little brat.

Do I tell Laura? Tell her that he’s...I don’t know what he is.

“You told me to look, so I looked.” I break eye contact with the mystery man and focus back on Laura. If I told her, she’d try to convince me he’s my soulmate or something stupid like that. Best to keep her in the dark for now.

Thankfully, the waiter saves me. I don’t dare look back at the bar as I order a Coke.

“Why didn’t you order a drink?” Laura asks, having ordered herself a Slinky Orgasm or an Over The Ass Slap or whatever the hell drinks are called these days.

“Because one of us has to drive home. If you wanted us to drink together we could’ve ordered a ride share or something instead of driving the Pink Puke Mobile.”

I don’t mention that I don’t like drinking because I hate feeling out of control. Laura already knows that.

“Will you please stop calling my car the Pink Puke Mobile?” Laura crosses her arms. “It’s just pink.”

The waiter drops off our drinks and...ew. Laura’s drink is the same shade of pink as her car and it’s making me want to barf. I have no idea how she can drink that.

“Cheers to not talking about my car anymore?” Laura asks, raising her drink.

I snort. “Cheers to that, I guess.”

“Refills are courtesy of those guys at the bar,” the waiter says as he brings a second round, despite us only having taken a few sips. His finger points right toward Brown-Eyed and Bushy-Eyebrowed and his two friends.

Am I blushing? Yuck.

Laura bats her mile-long eyelashes at the group of guys. “Wow, how generous.”

I can’t help rolling my eyes as two of BEBE’s—Brown-Eyed and Bushy-Eyebrowed—friends wave back enthusiastically.