Page 28 of Spell Ya Later

“The shop? I don’t think you’ve mentioned the shop.” He turns to me just a little, keeping most of his focus on the road.

Shit. How do I explain that I work in an occult shop without making myself sound like an absolute weirdo? Considering Iama complete weirdo, maybe I should just go with it.

“My grandma owns a shop in downtown Chagrin. It’s called The Cat’s Cradle. I work there during the week.”

He shakes his head. “Never heard of it. Is it a pet supply thing? Is that why you’re so good with animals?”

It would be so easy to lie to him. So easy to slip into being a normal human. And while I don’t plan on telling him about the witchy thing for at least a while, that doesn’t mean I want to be a liar. I want to be as much of myself as I can with him.

“No. It, uh...” You won’t have a real relationship with him if you lie, Hazel. “Grandma sells a lot of magic things.”

Descriptive.

His head cocks slightly. “Like, for magicians?”

This isn’t going well. “I guess they could use some of it? But no. It’s more witchcraft.”

“Witchcraft?” He says the word slowly, as if he’s making sure that’s what I said.

“Yeah. Crystals, herbs, books. A bunch of other weird stuff, too.”

I fully expect Noah to laugh, drop me off, and then block my phone number. I wouldn’t necessarily blame him.

“Interesting. That’s pretty unique. Do you believe in that?” His body hasn’t tensed, he’s still holding my hand. For all intents and purposes, he’s remained perfectly neutral.

Despite it all, I’m not sure how to answer the question. Do I believe in the social media craze of healing crystals instead of medicine? No. Do I believe that humans can do witchcraft? Also no. But, do I technically believe in witchcraft and that I’m a witch?

Of course.

But, I’m not ready to tell him I’m a witch. I’m not ready to reveal a part of me that I’m only just now discovering. It’s mine. At least for now.

“No. That’s more of my Grandma’s thing. But the store is warm and welcoming, and the people who shop there are kind. It feels like home.”

His smile brightens the car. “That’s really nice you have that. Everyone deserves somewhere that feels like home.”

I squeeze his hand, the comforting electric fizz traveling over my skin. I could get used to this.

To him, and our electric connection.

The car slows in front of the shop as he pulls into a spot. The air is thick with expectation. Is he going to kiss me? Am I supposed to ask him to come up?

As if he knows, as if he can hear me, he gets out of the car and walks around to open the passenger door for me. Ever the gentleman.

The fall air ruffles the trees around us, creating a swirl of crisp golden and red leaves as he pulls me close. I lick my lips and his eyes track the motion, one hand on the small of my back.

His other hand cups my cheek, thumb rubbing along my skin. The smallest spark zaps along the trail. I lean into the touch, eyes closing.

My eyes fly open at the first press of his lips against mine. It’s tentative, questioning. His full lips press for just a second against mine before he pulls away.

A shy smile plays on his face and I want to kiss it away.

I justwant.The very center of my chest aches and pounds like it’s trying to leap toward him.

I lean onto the tips of my toes and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. His smile grows as he nuzzles his nose against mine and sinks into a new kiss. His mouth is still soft against mine, gentle, as he guides me.

With every second, the awareness that it’s Noah—my sweet, nervous-talking, bookish,Warhammer-mini-collecting nerd—heightens every single one of my senses. Everything is more. More than I’ve ever felt.

The hand on my cheek drags back, getting tangled in my tresses and I have to grab onto his sweater at the shoulders just to keep myself from melting into the ground.