Page 26 of Spell Ya Later

Okay, Confident Hazel. Don’t know who you are, but I’m glad you’ve made an appearance.

He takes my hand in his, the gentle buzz still fizzling, and leads me toward one of the walls filled with books.

“What are your favorite genres? Do you enjoy reading?” he asks, long fingers thumbing through different titles.

Why yes, Noah, I love reading. Just today I was reading about the premature grisly murder of my family member.

That may be a little heavy for a second date.

Is perusing a bookshop technically a second date? Or is it just a hang? What’s a hang? Is there a difference between a date and a hang? I’m so woefully unprepared.

“I love reading. I’m honestly all over the place. I’ve read thriller, fantasy, historical fiction, romance. It just depends on my mood.”

“You’ve read thriller? I’ve only seen the music video.”

A startled laugh escapes me. “A fellow lover of horrible puns, I see.”

He nods, grin so large I could just melt. “Yeah, but I’m the same way with books. I love all those genres. What did you expect, really? Only a book nerd would work at a publishing house.”

“You’re in luck. I like book nerds.”

He scratches the back of his neck as a slight flush darkens his cheeks. “I think new arrivals are over here.”

Sunshine. In. Human. Form. What guy would willingly admit to being open to the romance genre, let alone reading it actively? I appreciate his open-mindedness. Maybe if this continues and I have to drop the witch bomb...Well, maybe he’d be open-minded enough to listen.

“Cat!” I say as said cat jumps up on a table next to us.

Very astute, Hazel. Good job.

He chuckles. “That’s Tubbs. He’s the owner’s cat, but he comes to the shop every day. Total tease. He hardly lets anyone pet him, but he loves to be up in your personal space regardless.”

Regardless of Noah’s warning, I must try to pet.

I reach out slowly, allowing Tubbs to smell my skin. With a very melodramatic sniff—he’s a little prince for sure—he purrs and rubs his cheek against my palm. I scratch behind his ear and down his neck as the purring grows into a steady rumble. It vibrates in my chest, helping melt any lingering tension from earlier in the day. Maybe I’m a cat person.

“I’ve never seen him do that,” Noah says. “And I come here at least twice a week.”

I meet his gaze and my cheeks heat at the pure awe in his eyes. Like I’m some sort of magical creature.

“I guess I have the magic touch.”

He squeezes my other hand in reply and a new electric current travels up my arm to my spine.

Is it this intense for him, too? Or is it just like he explained—a little shock?

“I’d like to pick out and buy you a book, if that’s okay. I’d buy you flowers, but I genuinely know nothing about them and according to Nonna Ricci there’s this wholelanguagewith flowers.” His cheeks flush as he presses on, not even taking a breath. “But, books, I know books. I understand books. I canconvey what I feel with books. Not that I’m trying to...I just think it’d be a really...I would like to buy you a book, Hazel.”

I’d listen to him ramble for hours.

“I’d love that.”

His face lights up with a grin so large the dimple in his chin shows. “Let me go pick something!”

Without a second word, he runs off toward the classics. With a smile, I turn back to Tubbs and give him more scratches.

He wants to buy me a book. A book he picks. A warmth starting in my chest settles all the way to my fingertips. I like how he rambles, how he wants to do this thing for me that is personal. It’s not flowers, it’s not chocolate, it’s a language that he speaks specifically.

I don’t think anyone has put that much effort into getting me a present before. Certainly not my mother.