Page 56 of A Witch in Notting Hill

“We should meet the others,” he said, but it came out hoarse and shallow. Like he was only saying it because he had to and not because he meant it. After another second of excruciating eye contact, I pulled myself away and headed toward the lobby.

Dinner was in a pub that looked almost identical to the bed-and-breakfast: quaint, rustic, older than America itself. We ordered from the small menu—pub grub, they called it—and pulled greasy fish and chips apart with our fingers, sipped light beers, and chatted mindlessly if only to kill time before we were forced to head back to our one-room abode.

It was nice. Familiar, even. Almost like they weren’t near strangers who were about to have the intensely intimate experience of seeing me sleep.

Though I supposed at this point, they were hardly strangers anymore, were they? And they definitely weren’t going to be after tonight. I couldn’t believe I was making what might have been some of the only true, normal friends I’d made in my adult life, and I was going to leave them as soon as I completed the spell.

Although they’d go right back to living their lives, probably thrilled this whole mess was over. I doubted they’d give it a second thought. Not that I needed to worry about any of this now, but I couldn’t help it.

“Ground control to Willow,” Lola said, snapping me back to reality. “You in there?”

“Yes, sorry. Just thinking about this stupid mint, that’s all,” I said. “Hoping none of this is a waste.”

“Will we know anything after tomorrow?” she asked. “Will you feel any different after you drink the tea? Or will you not know if any of this worked until you try the spell?”

“I won’t know anything until I try the spell, I’m afraid,” I said, trying to ignore the way I saw Oliver tense up every time we talked about magic. “But if I do everything I’m supposed to do, I don’t see why it wouldn’t work. I’m trying to remain optimistic.”Because if I let the self-doubt creep in, then I don’t stand a chance of doing the spell at all.

“I think that’s the right idea,” Lola said, and smiled. “I’m sure it’ll be grand.”

Easy for her to say. But still, I was glad someone was saying it. I needed a vote of confidence to offset the irritation in Oliver’s locked jaw. With his lips pressed together and his eyes looking everywhere but in my direction, it was easy to remember why I needed to keep my distance.

Late that night, however, under the cover of darkness, in the room with only his whispers and the deep breathing of Lo and Minho between us, it was nearly impossible.

“How’d you know I was awake?” I asked after I heard him whisper my name from the bottom bunk. Lola and I were sharing the queen bed, and with her on the inside, Oliver and I were spitting distance from each other. A sliver of moonlight painted a clean stripe down the side of his face, illuminating only one glassy eye and the corner of his lips.

“Shot in the dark.”

“It was a good shot.”

“Usually is.”

I smiled, but I wasn’t sure he could see it. “Why areyouawake?”

“Not a great sleeper even in the best conditions. Quite hard to relax with you right across from me there, tossing and turning and sighing dramatically every other minute.”

“I wasn’t—”

“I’m kidding.” He reached out and rested a warm hand on the side of my head, and I was no longer certain I had a body. Every nerve ending I had was condensed to the space of his touch, firing on all cylinders and lighting me up from the inside out. “About the drama,” he clarified, dropping his hand and letting it linger over the edge of the bed, tracing patterns on the wooden floor. “I’m not kidding about it being hard to sleep with you right there.”

“I offered to try to get us another room somewhere,” I said, walking the fine line between whispering and breathless.

“I said it was hard, Willow. I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Every ounce of air that was left in my chest escaped in a rush. It must have been audible, because I could hear his smile in the dark. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be saying things like that.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like it.”What the hell was I doing? And why couldn’t I stop myself?

“I trust you’ll tell me if you change your mind,” he said.

“Does that mean you plan to continue?”

“It’s going to be a long five months, you know.” He stopped tracing patterns in the wood and tucked his hand under his head, propping it up and looking straight at me. Searching. For what, it was hard to say, but I felt scrutinized, even if I couldn’t see more than a fraction of his face. And for once, I didn’t mind. “So we might as well be honest with each other.”

Of all the things he could have said, it had to bethat? When I was in the middle of a lie about my fake boyfriend so that he wouldn’t hit on me, while I was also simultaneously encouraging him to still hit on me? No wonder I was shit at being a witch. I could barely handle being a human.

“Tell me something, then,” I said, hoping to turn the attention onto him before I confessed and ruined the moment.

“What’d you like to know?”