Shiver : 13 Sexy Tales of Humor and Horror

One

“Hester Pryne was a slut.”

“She was not. You’re a Neanderthal asshat!” My chair scraped across the worn wood floor as I stood and shouted. I was shouting in my New England Fiction seminar lead by a man in a tweed jacket with elbow patches. What was wrong with me?

“Miss Bradbury, please sit down,” Professor Philips scolded me from the head of the long, mahogany table.

I crossed my arms and my chest heaved as I stared down the tree troll known as Luke Hamilton, aka self-proclaimed ‘Big Man on Campus’ and golden-boy. “Professor Philips, how can you just let him spout off all that bull— nonsense about Hester Pryne being a slut? She didn’t have sex with herself.”

“That’d be hot,” Hamilton snorted from a few seats away. His golden-boy blond hair drooped over his forehead as he doodled boobs with A’s on them in the margins of his book.

Disgusting. I couldn’t figure out why he was even in this class. Reading didn’t seem to be his thing. The only things that appeared to interest him were boobs, keg parties, and himself.

“It takes two people! Two. Hamilton and his hand don’t count as two people. Argh! He’s missing the point. Hawthorne wasn’t slut shaming Hester.” I flailed my arms around in some sort of awkward orangutan mating dance.

A cough at the opposite end of the long table drew my attention, and the spell of my frustration dissolved. The sound came from Andrew Wildes, resident brooding, quiet, serious, handsome, slightly dangerous man of mystery. Or maybe he was just quiet. There was something about him I found fascinating, like the dark hero in one of the Brontë sisters’ novels. Blushing, I sat down in my chair, straightened a stack of note cards and my post-it note filled copy The Scarlett Letter.

“Do you have something to add to the discussion, Mr. Wildes?” Dr. Philips asked.

Andrew stared at his fingers, which tapped on the table in a patch of dust dancing in the mid-September sun. The rest of him remained in the shadows, making his thick dark hair and pale skin stand out in contrast even more. He never spoke in class unless Dr. Philips called on him, and his answers were often so odd, the majority of students ignored him. This would be interesting.

“Madison is right. Hawthorne wasn’t shaming Hester. The Puritans were. Hawthorne was more interested in sin and knowledge, exclusion and fear of the unknown.”

My jaw dropped open. Andrew defended me. He made my entire argument in two sentences. I didn’t think he knew I existed even though it was only a class of twelve students.

“Well said, Andrew,” Philips praised him. “You and Miss Bradbury are on the right track with your thinking.”

Hamilton scoffed and leaned back in his chair, letting the front legs rise a few inches above the floor. Under his breath he muttered, “Slut.”

Andrew’s head jerked in our direction. Behind his glasses, his brown eyes flashed to mine before they settled on Luke’s smug expression.

I wanted to wipe the stupid frat-boy grin off Hamilton’s face. My fingers twitched as I concentrated on resisting the urge to hurl my book at him. For once I would’ve loved to see him fall flat on his smugness. Clouds covered the sun, darkening the room’s only source of light. I scrunched up my nose and narrowed my eyes as I imagined him crashing to the floor. Luke’s chair tipped further back, past the point of balance. His arms flailed, struggling to stop the inevitable, but with a loud clatter, Luke and his chair smashed to the floor.

“Ha!” I looked around to see who heard my outburst. Most of my classmates were failing to stifle their own laughter as we stared at the empty spot at the table where Luke had been sitting. My eyes once again met Andrew’s. He dipped his head and pushed his glasses up his nose with his long, slender fingers, but his lips twitched and a dimple flashed in his cheek.

“Fuck, I think I hurt my head,” Luke moaned from the floor.

“Mr. Hamilton, remove yourself from the floor, please, so we can continue class.” Dr. Philips’ salty grey beard appeared to frown with his annoyance.

Luke grumbled and exhaled a few creative expletives as he regained his seat at the table. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from giggling with glee.

Class continued with other students piping in with their thoughts on Puritans and sex. I zoned out, remembering Luke’s fall and wondering if I’d wished it to happen hard enough to make it so.

After all, we were in Salem. Accused Witches were killed here, but today the streets were filled with shops selling magical potions, cauldrons, and books on Wicca to modern witches and tourists. Not that I believed in witches. Or magic.

“Next week we’ll be discussing The Crucible, Arthur Miller’s take on the witch trials that made Salem famous, or infamous as it were.” Philips stood and gathered his things.

“Great, more prudes and bitches,” Luke mumbled.

I shot him a look. “Seriously?”

He met my eyes and a slow, sinister smile spread across his beer bloated face.

“What are you smiling about?” I sneered.

“Prudes and bitches. This class could be about you.”

“Shut up, Hamilton.” I moved around him toward the door.

“If the names fit.”

I flipped him the bird over my shoulder without turning around.

“Aww, don’t be Mad. Oh wait, I guess you don’t have a choice,” he called after me, laughing at his stupid joke about my name.

“Argh!” I stomped down the hall. Outside of the glass doors large raindrops splattered the brick walkway. “Could this day get any better?” I asked myself out loud.

A pale hand with long, familiar fingers held one of those tiny collapsible umbrellas in my line of sight. “Here.”

I looked up to meet the dark eyes of Andrew. His lanky frame towered over mine. From his black Chucks to his almost black hair, he could have been a hipster, but he was too nerdy, too cool, too something, to be that trendy. Maybe it was the glasses; the thick black rims were not exactly stylish. His messy hair hinted at a lack of combing rather than bedroom shenanigans. He looked smart, if intelligence had a facial expression. Too-smart-for-his-own-good smart.

Andrew cleared his throat.

“Oh, thank you. I have my hoodie.” I reached behind to pull my grey hood over my hair. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” He held my gaze as he stuffed the umbrella into his backpack. “No problem.”

Something about him made me tingle. He unsettled me, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. I hesitated before I gave him a small smile, and dashed out the door.

The rain sputtered into a mist a few yards down the path, and I pulled down my hood. Maybe my day had started to turn around. Smiling, I searched for Andrew in the doorway or on the steps behind me, but he’d disappeared.

Two

Sam sat at our usual table inside the campus cafe.

“I bought your favorite… a pumpkin spice latte,” she greeted me. Today, her long blonde hair was in two braids, which were wrapped around the crown of her head. She looked like a milkmaid with the figure of a German beer garden girl.

I inhaled the steam. “Thanks. I need this.” The rainy day called for the warmth of fall in a cup. I shook out my damp hoodie and ran my fingers through my newly bobbed hair.

“Rough day with the Puritans?” she asked.

“Rough day with Hamilton.”

“He’s a flaming toadstool.” Sam never swore. She never used typical curse words, but the intent was the same.

“He really is.”

“What did newt brain do now?”

I explained his comments in class and we laughed over the karma of his fall.

“Maybe it wasn’t karma. You wished for him to shut up and it came true.”

I gave her a sidelong glance. “Sam.”

“Maddy.”

“I’m not a witch. No magical powers.” I wiggled my fingers in front of her face.

“You don’t know that. You’ve never tried.”

“My ancestors might have been from Salem, but we all know those witches weren’t witches.”

“Maybe not the innocents who were killed, but that doesn’t mean magic doesn’t exist here.”

I rolled my eyes. “I think you’ve spent too much time downtown at the tourist shops.”

Sam mirrored my eye roll. “Such the skeptic. Where’s your sense of imagination and wonder?”

“I must have lost them when I stopped watching Disney princess movies.”

“My mom never let me watch those.”

“Ah, that explains it all then. More Snow White and less Wicca.”

“Speaking of Wicca, will you come with me to The Spelling B after classes? I need to buy a new set of Tarot cards.”

“What’s wrong with the set you have?”

“I think Lucy’s bad energy ruined their mojo.”

“Lucy Lucy?” I stared at my roommate.

“I know, I know. Yes, that Lucy, but she paid me twenty bucks for a reading.”

Lucy was Hamilton’s girlfriend. She swam in the same shallow pool he did, and believe me, they deserved each other. I frowned at the thought of the two of them procreating and creating more obnoxious humans.

“Her reading was terrible, just so you know.”

“That’s some comfort.”

“Maddy, would you still want to date Hamilton?” She teased.

I shuddered. “We never dated. I wouldn’t call what happened freshman year dating. What was I thinking?”

“You weren’t. You were a horny freshman.” Sam’s laughter sounded like delicate wind chimes, until she snorted. “I still can’t believe you kneed his crotch in the middle of the dorm lounge.”

“He grabbed my boob in front of everyone.” I crossed my arms to protect my chest from the memory.

“I still don’t know what you saw in him.”

“Neither do I. Yuck.” I shuddered. “Let’s chalk it up to hormones. Can we talk about something besides Too Much Tongue Hamilton?”

“Maybe you need some sort of cleansing. We can get you smudged! Or maybe find you a love spell.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Smudged?” My skepticism reared its head.

“With sage. We can buy some downtown.”

“Uh huh.” I furrowed my brows. “Won’t I smell like a roasted chicken? I’m sure that will attract all of the boys to my yard.”

“At this point, what do you have to lose?”

Nothing. It was the beginning of junior year and there wasn’t an eligible bachelor in sight. I sighed. Pickings were slim these days. Decent guys had girlfriends or were gay. Even the not-so-decent-guys like Hamilton were paired off. Brown eyes behind black frames flashed in my mind, and I instantly wondered if Andrew had a girlfriend. She was probably a theoretical math major, or some esoteric French poetry focus, which required imported cigarettes and red lipstick.

“You’re right, nothing to lose but my dignity.”

“So you’ll come with me? It’s stopped raining. No excuses.”

“The rain wouldn’t stop me. I don’t melt in the rain. Doesn’t that prove I’m not a witch?”

“Only in Oz.” She grabbed her bag and stuffed her books and notes from the table inside, including a random spoon. “Don’t judge. All of my spoons keep disappearing from our room.”

“Maybe they’re finding their way back to their proper homes.”

“Or someone’s been stealing them.”

“Wouldn’t that be ironic?” I nudged her with my elbow as we exited the cafe. Sure enough, the clouds were still heavy, but the mist had stopped.

A strand of bells around the door handle jingled as we entered The Spelling B, Sam’s favorite shop for all things witchy. The scent of incense and dried herbs permeated the tiny, dim space. Tilting shelves bowing with the weight of jars, candles, and books crowded the walls and formed narrow aisles. I tucked my overstuffed laptop bag closer to my body, afraid of the handwritten ‘you break it, you buy it’ sign on the door.

Sam headed to the back, mumbling about sage and tarot cards.

“Can I help you?”

I turned toward the voice and met a pair of clear — almost colorless — blue eyes. They were situated in the face of a middle aged woman with an elaborate dark bun held together with red-laquered chopsticks.

“Oh, um, no. I’m not a witch.” I stumbled over my words. “Not a witch, I mean Wicca. Not that there is anything wrong with being a witch. Unless it’s the 17th century. And here.” I babbled on and on until a soft hand curled around my wrist.

“Are you sure?” Her smile was kind, almost familiar, but somehow piercing, as if she could see straight through me and realized what a mess I was.

“Sorry. No. I just had a class about early New England. It got pretty heated about Hester Pryne, and we’re studying the witch trials next week,” I babbled again.

“Ah, you go to Hawthorne College?” she asked, leading me over to a counter where an assortment of mortars, pestles, and jars cluttered the flat surface.

“I do.” I peered at the label on one jar. Evening primrose. Seemed innocent enough.

“Are you taking Professor Philips class? That one was popular when I went there.”

“You went to Hawthorne, too?” My voice sounded more incredulous than I meant.

“He was old then, and that was ancient history, I know. He somehow never ages. Still wearing the elbow patches?”

I laughed and shook off the unease I had felt when I’d first entered the store. “He does!”

She began opening jars and adding various herbs into a strainer over a blue pottery mug with a pentagram on it. When she poured hot water over the mix, the smell of mint and something earthy hit my nose.

“Here, drink this.”

“What?” I lurched away from the counter. My bag hit a bowl of small stones, which plunked loudly on the uneven wood floor as they fell. I bent to pick them up.

A gentle shove pushed me out of the way. “Stop. Let me read them for you.” She leaned over to study the stones. “Interesting, very interesting.” Her elegant finger tapped her chin. “Oh, look at that. I haven’t seen that in years.”

I gazed down at the pebbles on the floor — some had markings on them that looked like the runes Sam kept in a velvet bag in her desk. I stood there, unsure of what to do with my hands as she continued her examination, softly exclaiming to herself. Finally, she stood up and stared at me.

For a long time.

At least an hour.

Or what felt like an hour.

My face grew hot and my forehead itched. I glanced around, unable to continue to meet her steadfast gaze, and coughed.

She snapped out of her one woman staring contest. “Your tea is getting cold!”

“Tea?”

“Yes, I made you a cup of mint tea. What did you think it was?”

“Um, well.” I looked around and shrugged my shoulders.

Her laughter echoed the chimes on the door, light and ethereal. “You thought it was a potion?”

I nodded, feeling stupid. I took a sip and let the heat soothe my nerves.

“Oh, my dear. No. I’d never give you a potion unless you asked for one.” She studied me again. “Do you want one? Perhaps for better grades? Although, I doubt you need that. Love?”

I met her eyes briefly and blushed.

“Ah, love it is.”

“No, not really. There isn’t anyone at the moment.”

Her eyes flicked back to the floor before she knelt to pick up the stones. “Are you sure?”

I thought of my complete lack of a love life at the moment. I wasn’t desperate enough to date someone like Hamilton again, but things were grim. Grimmer than grim. Saturday night alone, or standing awkwardly at a campus party, nursing a red cup of cheap beer grim. Hell, I’d let Paul Uccello kiss me two weeks ago. His last name was Italian slang for penis. I could never marry a man and end up with penis as my last name.

“See the rune nearest your foot?” She picked it up and placed it on my palm.

“It looks like a B.” I held it in my hand and studied the lines with my finger.

“It’s the symbol for new beginnings. And love.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps you have a secret admirer.”

I shook my head. “He must be imaginary as well as secret.”

Studying my face, she frowned. “So full of doubt.”

Sam came bounding up to the counter with a box of tarot cards and a bunch of sage bundles. “Hey, did you do a reading? That’s so cool!”

“Not really. I knocked over the bowl of stones with my bag.”

“There are no accidents,” both of them said at the same time.

I rolled my eyes.

“She’s not a believer, is she?” the shop lady/witch asked.

Sam exhaled an exaggerated sigh. “No, and her ancestors are from Salem. Like 17th century Salem.”

“Sam, I’ve told you, that means nothing. Ten generations and not a witch in the bunch,” I huffed.

“What’s your last name?” glacier eyes asked me.

“It’s Bradbury.”

“Is it? Well, that explains the reading.”

I glanced at the rune still in my hand.

Sam’s eyes settled on my palm. “See? I told you things were changing for you! And with Mabon right around the corner!” She practically bounced on her heels with excitement.

“Mabon?” I asked.

“The fall equinox to you,” Sam explained. “Equal day and night. Balance of light and dark. It’s a week from Saturday.”

Our hostess listened and nodded her head. “Time to embrace the darkness.”

Her words sent a chill down my spine, and I shivered although the room remained the same temperature.

“We’ll definitely need to smudge you soon. The sooner the better. And definitely before Samhain.” At my confused expression, Sam explained, “Halloween to you. Oh, we should do it this weekend,” she continued, nodding away in agreement with herself.

I rubbed my arms in an attempt to get warm. A familiar sensation tingled on my skin, and I turned my head to meet colorless eyes.

“When you’re ready, come back and see me again. I’m Sarah by the way.” She extended her hand.

“Madison.” When I shook her hand, I had the distinct feeling of being read or analyzed.

As we walked down the crooked streets back toward our dorm, Sam chattered on about how wicked cool it was Sarah did a reading for me and how she was a powerful witch, head of the local coven, and famous for her spells and intuition.

I stuffed my hands in my hoodie pockets while I pretended to listen. My fingers wrapped around a smooth object.

“Oh crap,” I pulled the pebble from my pocket, “I stole her rune.”

Sam laughed and shook her head. “Flying monkeys! That’s five years bad luck for stealing from a witch.”

My eyes bugged out.

“I’m kidding.” Her shoulder bumped mine. “Come on, we’ll take it back and explain you weren’t intending to shoplift, beg for mercy, and all that.”

Declining her offer, I sent Sam back to campus and returned to the shop alone. A slight breeze ominously rattled a few dried leaves along the street when I passed the bronze statue of Roger Conant. Founder of Salem or not, the statue made him look like a witch with his buckled-hat and billowing cape.

The bells chimed when I opened the door of Sarah’s shop.

“Back so soon?” Sarah asked without lifting her head.

I held out the rune in explanation.

At my silence, she raised her eyes to my hand. “I didn’t peg you for a thief.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep it.” I stared down at my scuffed ballet flats.

“Maybe it meant something to you? Struck a chord?” She returned the rune to its bowl.

“I wish. Thank you for your optimism, but I think it’s lost on me.” I shrugged in an attempt to pass off my nonexistent love life as nothing major.

“You never know. Love always happens when you least expect it, and with the last guy you’d imagine.” Her icy eyes seemed to thaw. She walked around the counter and grabbed something off the end of one of the aisles. “Since you aren’t a believer, this can’t hurt.”

I studied the packet she handed me. The label read “Love Spell” in a fancy cursive on a pink label. Inside were a candle, a vial of liquid, a tiny heart charm, ribbon, and what looked like pink peppercorns. I wondered if the vial contained the tears of dateless, single women.

“Really?” I ask, incredulous. “Pepper?”

She shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt. Right?” She winked at me.

“Okay.” I tucked the package into my bag, already planning to throw it away later. “Thank you.”

“Let me know if it works, Madison Bradbury.”

The use of my full name struck me as odd. The whole past hour was strange. I nodded, but didn’t meet her eyes. A hush fell over the store, amplifying the sound of the creaking floorboards as I walked to the door.

“A brown-haired Bradbury girl walking into my shop. Who could imagine,” Sarah mumbled when I crossed the threshold. At least I think she said that. The words were lost beneath the sound of bells.

Three

“Can’t you use your magical powers for something useful? Or fun? Like frozen margaritas?” I gave our broken blender a dirty look.

Sam rolled her eyes. “No, this isn’t Practical Magic.” She scowled as she rifled through her desk for matches. A bundle of sage lay on my bed, awaiting fire.

“Can’t you set it on fire with your mind?”

“Sadly, no.” She shoved a drawer closed and opened another one.

“Won’t we set off the smoke alarm?” I sniffed the herb. “Or get busted for smoking weed in our room? Maybe we should open the window.”

“Good idea.” She pushed up the bottom of our window.

“Great. Now the whole quad will think we’re potheads.”

“Stop your complaining. That’s the whole reason we’re doing this to remove the dark cloud of negativity surrounding you.” She held up a book of matches. “Ready?”

“No. I’m not looking forward to smelling like a Thanksgiving turkey for the rest of the night.”

“You can shower before we go to the party.”

It was Saturday night and that meant bad beer in a Solo cup.

“Another party? Haven’t we tortured ourselves enough this semester?” I scooted further back on my rumpled bed to rest my back against the wall.

“Yes, another one. School has barely started. You need to snap out of your funk. Find a cute guy. Make out in the corner. Let him touch your boobs. Maybe grab his ass.”

“Reminds me of all of sophomore year. Yet, strange guy ass sounds delightful.” I scrunched up my nose. “Can we go right this minute?”

“Enough with the sarcasm. Shut up and hold still.” Sam lit the sage, and then blew on the flame to let it smolder.

I coughed and waved my hand in front of my face. “Now what?”

“Stand up.”

I shot her a look, but stood while she waved the sage around me. The smoke stung my eyes, so I closed them.

“Think good thoughts. Or maybe conjure up your perfect guy. That’ll help.”

I remembered the love spell package in my bag. Sarah had said true love comes when you least expect it, so did that mean I shouldn’t focus on it to make it happen? All of this magic stuff was confusing.

Inhaling a deep breath and coughing again, I tried to list all of the things I wanted in a guy.

Smart.

Funny.

Chivalrous. What? Mr. Darcy was hot.

Great, now I’m thinking about Colin Firth and he’s like my dad’s age. So wrong. Okay, Madison, focus.

Sam muttered something under her breath and spun me around to do my backside.

Where was I? Right …

Cute, but not a narcissist. A guy who doesn’t think he’s God’s gift to females, but gorgeous in his own way.

Am I superficial? Do I care?

Kind. Kind to animals, too. Always a good sign.

I inhaled, and coughed again.

Fit, but not a jock or super gym rat guy. Maybe a lacrosse or soccer player. Or a rower. Did we even have a crew team here?

More of a lone wolf than part of a pack — aka frat — but not a loner with no friends because he was too weird and anti-social to have friends.

Mysterious.

Gasping, I opened my eyes. “I have a crush on Andrew Wildes.” I’d just described him perfectly. Well, not the athletic part. Maybe he hated cats. Or kittens. He had to have some flaws. Like a girlfriend.

“You do?”

Crap. I’d said it out loud.

“The weird guy from your sem class?”

“He’s not weird, just not super normal.”

Sam rolled her eyes and walked over to our sink to extinguish the sage. “You’re cleansed.”

“I don’t feel any different.” I smelled my ponytail. “I do smell different, though.”

“It might take a while to—”

Four quick, loud knocks interrupted her. Our eyes met.

“Who is it?” I mouthed at her.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah?” she asked, stepping closer to the door, but not opening it.

“Can you open the door?” a familiar male voice asked.

I jumped on my bed and grabbed my pillow, waving it around the room, hoping to clear any remaining smoke.

Sam opened the door and Andrew Wildes stood there on our threshold in all of his dark, brooding glory. I was on my bed waving a pillow around my head like a crazy person. Embarrassed, I quickly hopped to the floor and threw the pillow behind me.

“Sorry to bother you, but I was passing by and smelled smoke.” His eyes flashed to mine. “Hi, Madison.”

“Hi, Andrew.” I gave him an embarrassed wave.

Sam grinned at me and then put on her best innocent expression to face him. “You did? How strange. Maybe we were making microwave popcorn and burned it.”

“Maybe?” Andrew’s eyes swept our room and landed on mine again. “No microwave.”

“Oh. Right. Funny that.” She shrugged.

He took a step into the room and crossed his arms. “It smells like a roasted chicken in here.”

I laughed, but stopped myself mid-ha.

“Are you a narc?” she asked.

“No, but I am an RA.”

“In this dorm?” I asked. I’d never seen him in the building.

“I’m in Emerson.”

“So your powers don’t work here?” she asked.

His eyes flashed to hers for a second before returning to me. “My powers work everywhere. Unlike illegal microwaves, cigarettes and other smoking, I’m not sure there are any rules banning sage smudging,” he said, stepping to the sink and picking up the singed bundle of sage.

“If you knew it was sage, why did you ask?” Sam asked.

“Just checking to be sure you knew.” He twirled the bundle between his longer fingers before placing it back on the small counter. “Who was the smudger and who was the smudgee?”

Apparently my brain had lost the ability to form words while Andrew stared at me and I stood there mute.

“I smudged Madison,” Sam confessed, shoving me in front of her.

His deep brown eyes swept over me, settling on a spot on my cheek. I realized he wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his long lashes brushed his cheek when he blinked. I’d never noticed before how long they were. Ridiculously long. And unfair. Andrew was the kind of guy you wouldn’t look twice at… until you did and realized how handsome he was beyond the glasses.

“Looks like you got a little close.” When he touched my cheek, I felt the heat of his fingertip ignite a trail of fire beneath my skin. He held his finger in front of my face where I saw a dark smear of charcoal.

I brushed my skin, hoping to remove anything else. Embarrassment heated my face. My recently admitted crush stood in my room and I looked like I was sporting face paint and smelled like Thanksgiving dinner. Obviously, the smudging hadn’t worked to clear my mojo.

His hand rose as if he would touch my cheek again. I held my breath and braced for impact. Instead, he subtly shook his head and stuffed his hand in the pocket of his black hoodie.

“Sorry to barge in. Lots of students are curious about witchcraft. Allison, on the first floor, almost set her comforter on fire with an enchanted candle.” He scoffed. “Probably best to avoid open flames in the dorms.”

His eyes never left mine as he spoke. I felt like I was being studied and categorized, but wasn’t sure if the judgment was positive or more “stupid college girls and witchcraft”. He was impossible to read.

While Andrew and I stared at each other, Sam cleared her throat. “What are you doing tonight, Andrew?”

“Not really sure. I was headed upstairs when I smelled the smoke. To see a friend.”

Girl friend or guy friend, I wondered.

“You know Tate? The RA on the third floor?” he asked.

Sam and I nodded. Everyone knew Tate Winthrop. Even if he weren’t a gazillionth generation Winthrop, everyone would still know him. There weren’t many six-foot-three white guys with dreadlocks down their back on our little college campus. Sam’s had a crush on Tate since the beginning of last year. He was a pretty big reason why we still lived in a double room as juniors. I couldn’t imagine Tate and Andrew being friends. Andrew seemed too quiet, and a little uptight.

“You and Tate should come to the party on Elm Court tonight.” A glimmer of a plan twinkled in her eyes. “Unless RAs aren’t allowed to go to off campus parties.”

“We can. If everyone there is legal, it’s not a problem.” He smiled at Sam. “Are you legal?” he asked me.

“She is. We both are.” Sam was lying. My birthday wasn’t until late November; hers was in January.

It would be easy for him to bust us by asking for IDs, but he didn’t.

“Okay, maybe I’ll see you there. No more smudging, ladies.” He didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, we stood there awkwardly. At least I felt awkward. Sam looked delighted at her newfound connection to Tate.

Torn between wanting him to get out of my room and throwing him down on my bed, I once again became mute. Charming.

“Okay,” I managed to say finally. Parrots had more interesting contributions to conversations. “I’ll be in a corner with a Solo cup.”

“Bring Tate!” Sam called out as the door shut behind him.

Yep. Awkward.

Four

Had Andrew bothered to show up at the party, he would have found me in a corner with a bottle of cider. I doubt he would have recognized me without the red cup.

Sam covered up her disappointment about Tate’s no-show by chatting up every guy there who wasn’t mashing his body or lips against a girl. Or guy. An endless parade of toads marched over to my corner with her encouragement. Not actual toads. Or frogs. Although one of them had buggy eyes and smelled like a pond, so he might have been a real toad in disguise. My grandmother’s words of dating wisdom came to mind.

“You have to kiss a lot of toads to find your Prince Charming.”

This from a woman who met and married a boy at seventeen. How many toads could she have kissed in western Massachusetts? Her town didn’t even have a stop sign.

Most of the toad-guys had names beginning with E’s: Ethan, Eli and Ev were followed by Eddie and Edgar, who didn’t appreciate being asked if he was named for Poe.

Over loud music, Poe sounds a lot like poo. Apparently.

No Prince Charming tonight.

I finished my cider and looked for Sam. I located her in the kitchen talking to a short, skinny guy, who was enthusiastically telling her all about his ninja costume for Halloween.

“I’m working on the suction cups for the hands and feet.”

“Suction cups?” Sam faked interest.

“For climbing buildings.” He didn’t say ‘duh’, but it was implied.

“Oh, right! Look, it’s Madison!” She hugged me and whispered, “Help me.”

By the time we broke apart, Ninja Boy had moved on to sharing his ninja plans with the girl to his left.

“Let’s go,” I said.

“They might still show.”

“It’s almost one o’clock. They’re not coming. And neither is Prince Charming.”

“Were you expecting him tonight? Halloween is a couple weeks away. It’s too early for men in tights.”

I laughed. “Not by much. A few more weeks and this town will be covered with them.”

She shuddered. “I wish you were joking.”

New Orleans had Mardi Gras; Salem had Halloween — a month-long party downtown with every sexy version of a normal costume possible. Last year we saw nine women dressed as the sexy version of the Supreme Court. In hot pants.

“Me too,” I agreed.

“We need to start planning our costumes.” She tugged me out of the kitchen and down the narrow hall where the parade of toads were lined up with their beers waiting for the bathroom. At least they were housebroken.

Sam continued plotting out her costume as we walked home. The night had turned cold and I wished I had a coat instead of a sweater.

“Shouldn’t you be picking our robes for a coven gathering in the woods or something? I don’t think Wiccans approve of sexy cat costumes.”

“I’m multi-denominational when it comes to Halloween.”

“No candy at coven gatherings?”

She chuckled, knowing she’d been busted. “And zero cute guys.”

“No guy witches?”

“There are some, but most of them are ancient and smell of patchouli.”

We both stuck out our tongues.

“Maybe instead of Prince Charming, we’ll meet a handsome monster, wicked cool Phantom of the Opera, or smoking hot Beast.” She sighed.

“Stalkers and kidnappers? Are you sure you didn’t watch princess movies?” I asked.

“You have no romance. Zero. You’re too young to be so cynical. And too pretty.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Dismissing every compliment you’re given. You’re gorgeous. Like a totally hot Audrey Hepburn.”

“Meaning flat chested and pointy?"

“No, petite. With the way he couldn’t take his eyes off you earlier, I think Andrew approved.”

It was my turn to sigh. “I doubt it. He didn’t even show at the party.”

“He and Tate probably had other plans. Like playing D&D. Or Magic.” She giggled and sighed. “Can you imagine?”

I could, and the thought of gorgeous guys being into role playing games was both ridiculous and kind of hot, depending on the role play.

“You don’t think they have girlfriends, do you? I’ve never seen Tate with anyone, but that doesn’t really mean anything.” Her uncertainty was unfamiliar.

“That would suck if they did.”

“Tate’s totally dreamy. He’s like a modern day philosopher. Did you know he rides a skateboard?”

“Nothing says wicked smart philosopher like an old school long board.” I giggled. “You have it bad.”

She sighed again and nodded. “I don’t know why, but it’s so bad it’s good. We might need to crash his Halloween party this year and charm him.”

“We?”

“Trust me, this is our year, Maddy. I can feel it in my bones.” She tapped her head.

I looked up and found a star in the clear sky and made a wish.

Please let Andrew be single.

And not be into Dungeons & Dragons.

Thank you.

Five

Andrew sat across from me at seminar the following week. Hamilton took his old seat at the far end of the table, out of range for whispered or mumbled slurs. Unfortunately, that didn’t keep him from making asshat comments for the whole group to hear. Andrew didn’t contribute to the discussion of the witch trials, and after last week’s outburst, I kept my comments to a minimum.

My only interaction with Andrew during class was when he loaned me a pen after I couldn’t find one in my bag.

When class ended, I found myself standing next to Hamilton.

“This class blows,” he said.

Not thinking before speaking, I asked, “Why are you even in this class?”

Hamilton’s gaze landed on my boobs, which were thankfully protected beneath at least three layers of clothing. “Duh. Wicked easy A, like that Hester chick. Dude, it’s about New England — I’m from here. And it’s in English. No brainer.”

My jaw should have hit the floor with how fast and low it dropped open. Hamilton’s eyes held lust as he stared at my open mouth.

Unbelievable. I clamped my mouth shut and crossed my arms. “Idiot,” I mumbled under my breath and stepped around him. Unfortunately, I should have held my breath. A wall of Axe body spray assaulted me as I passed him. Gag.

“Can you believe that idiot?” a deep, rumble of a voice asked once I’d hit the fresh air of the hallway.

I snorted and tried to cover it with a laugh, but it was more of a snort-cough. I coughed to cover up the snort-laugh-cough.

Andrew chuckled and held open the door for me.

Wow. No guy had ever done that for me before.

He matched his stride to mine as we exited and crossed the quad. I stared at his Chucks and long legs in worn jeans as we walked along together, trying to think of something to say.

“How was the party on Saturday?” he asked.

“Okay.” I shrugged.

“Sorry we didn’t show up. Tate’s planning his Halloween party and roped me into helping him.”

Tate’s Halloween parties were legend. His family owned a summer house near Marblehead, a gigantic stone, Gothic place with a wide lawn leading down to the rocky beach.

Or so I’d heard. I’d never been invited to his parties before — neither had Sam, but she knew every detail.

“Not into Halloween?” I asked, hoping to sound interested but not desperate.

He shook his head. “It’s okay. I get a little tired of all the mayhem downtown every year. Same witch hats and vomit in the streets gets a little old after a couple of decades.”

“Are you from here?”

“Yeah. Well, kind of. I grew up here, but my dad insisted I attend private school in Boston, so I spent most of the year with my dad in the city. I think he really just wanted me out of Salem.”

My eyebrows rose in a silent question.

“Long, boring story. Really boring fighting parents kind of story.” His voice had changed and he didn’t meet my eyes.

There was more, but we’d reached the campus center where I was meeting Sam. I reached inside my bag and offered him his pen.

“Keep it,” he said with a smile. “Consider it a gift.”

I smiled and thanked him.

Maybe not weird, but Andrew wasn’t typical.

Saturday felt more like summer than the first day of fall. A hazy sun and humid air greeted me on my morning jog around campus. Jogging was girl code for walking and drinking coffee with Sam. I sipped my extra-large skinny vanilla latte and listened to her share the details of last night’s date with some guy from her statistics class.

“Everything was about the odds and percentages of relationships working out. He offered to show me a spreadsheet.”

“Sounds like a keeper. No second date?”

“Maybe. He was a pretty decent kisser.”

“You kissed him?”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure. Statistically, the odds were in his favor he’d be a good kisser.”

“Math is weird.” I laughed and picked up my pace.

“Good Goddess! What’s with the actual jogging?” She caught up with me. “We don’t really run, remember?”

“I thought maybe we could benefit from some physical exertion.”

“You need to get some action. And soon.”

“Me running a 5K is more likely to happen before that.”

“What’s going on with Wildes? My intuition tells me he likes you.”

I’d already told her about our chat after class, and of course she had witnessed the smudging incident. “He’s had chances to ask me out and hasn’t yet.”

“He seems shy. Maybe he’s been waiting for you to make the first move?”

“In what fairy tale does the princess ever make the first move?”

She stared at me blankly.

“Right, you wouldn’t know.” I sighed.

“You’re just in a slump. You should come to the Mabon celebration tonight.”

“Lots of dating material amongst the old and patchouli scented?”

“Probably not, but some gratitude and apple pie might help.”

“Nah, but thanks. I’m going to stay home and study.”

Sam asked me to go with her again after dinner, but I stuck to my plans of studying and maybe watching a few hours of Doctor Who with Grace down the hall. When I dug in my bag for a highlighter, my hand brushed against a small plastic bag. The love spell.

I pulled it out and walked over to the trash can, fully planning to toss it in, but my hand froze.

I had nothing to lose. Andrew had landed in the friend zone. There had to be a guy out there somewhere between Gropemaster Hamilton and Nice-but-Elusive-Wildes.

I opened up the package and poured the contents on my desk. Reading over the instructions, I decided it seemed simple enough. I was supposed to cleanse myself to be in the right mindset. Smudging counted as cleansing, so I skipped that step even though I hadn’t showered today or changed out of my jogging clothes. It wasn’t like I’d worked up a sweat this morning or anything.

I still wasn’t sure why pink peppercorns, but decided to step out of my skepticism box. After I made a circle with them on the desk, I put the love potion oil on the red votive candle while thinking of what I wanted in a man.

Smart.

Funny.

Chivalrous.

Cute, but not a narcissist.

Kind.

Fit.

Andrew’s story about Allison had made me laugh, but I put a saucer under the candle just in case. After the smudging incident, I didn’t want him to discover me in the middle of a love spell induced fire.

While the candle burned, I kept reading. I was supposed to have something personal if the spell was intended to work on a specific person. Next to the candle was the pen I’d borrowed from Andrew earlier in the week. I could use that. Was it personal enough? Was Andrew my intended target? I imagined myself with a bow and arrow aiming it straight at his chest. Nothing to lose. I put the pen inside of the circle and lit the candle. I repeated my list, adding in dark hair and pale skin.

All that was left was a piece of red ribbon and the heart pendant, which were to be worn out in public, preferably at a large gathering of people. According to the instructions, if I dropped the charm, my love would appear.

By magic!

At least the silver heart was pretty. I strung it on the ribbon and set it in my bowl of other jewelry.

I didn’t feel anything different. No gust of wind burst through the window. Nothing tingled or stood up on end. The oil and the candle made the room smell nice, but that was about it. Sighing, I texted Grace to come down when she was ready.

I crumpled up and threw away the spell instructions. I didn’t know what to do about the candle and peppercorns and hoped she wouldn’t notice if I turned off my desk lamp.

Three episodes of David Tenant as the Tenth Doctor and a giant bowl of popcorn later, the candle sputtered out with a blue flame and a few sparks, leaving the room in darkness except for the glow from my laptop. Grace and I both jumped.

“What the hell!” She glanced at the desk, and then at me. “What kind of candle was that?”

“Some random candle Sam had lying around,” I answered nonchalantly, hoping she wouldn’t notice the peppercorns and pen.

“Well, I think it’s a sign to call it a night.” With a yawn and a stretch, she peeled herself off my bed.

When she opened the door to leave, loud voices carried inside from the hall. One of those voices was Sam’s. The other two voices were male.

No.

No.

No.

One of the voices belonged to the owner of the pen currently sitting on my desk.

Crap!

There wasn’t time to slam the door shut and pretend I wasn’t here.

I leapt out of bed and swept the candle, pen, and saucer into my drawer, scattering warm wax and peppercorns everywhere. I was on my hands and knees picking them up when I heard Sam’s voice.

“Maddy? Are you in here? I just saw Grace leave. Hello? Why is the room dark?” She flipped the switch to the hideous overhead fluorescent light, which hummed and flickered to life.

While wondering if I could crawl completely under my desk and hide, it dawned on me my ass was probably sticking up in the air facing the door.

Great.

“Hey, there you are.” Sam’s and two other sets of footsteps crossed the threshold.

Even better.

Tate and Andrew were with her.

Too big to fit under the desk, I shuffled back and knelt, brushing my hair out of my face with the hand not holding peppercorns. “Hey.”

“You okay?” Andrew asked, looking both confused and amused.

“Oh, fine. I dropped something and was trying to find it.”

“In the dark?” Sam asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Did you find it?” Andrew asked.

“No, I’ll look later.” I attempted to straighten my sweatshirt over my running tights. I had to be a mess.

“What’s in your hand?” Tate asked.

“Nothing.” I shoved it behind my back like a toddler.

“Come on, share,” Andrew teased.

They were just peppercorns, not magic beans. “Peppercorns.”

“Random seasonings?” Andrew smirked and tilted his head. “Stealing from the dining hall?”

“Sam steals spoons,” I said to change the subject. I blushed and dumped the contents of my hand into the trash. “What have you three been doing?” I ignored Sam’s scowl.

Andrew’s attention stayed on the trashcan for a few beats before he replied, “We ran into Sam out front. She’s been telling us all about Mabon.”

“It’s fascinating,” Tate added, keeping his eyes on Sam.

She gazed back at him, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. “You should have come, Maddy. It was incredible — out in the woods and lit only with candles. I brought you some totally amazing apple crisp.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Tate was just inviting us to their Halloween party next weekend. Doesn’t that sound wicked cool?” she asked, attempting and almost succeeding in sounding aloof.

“You’ll come, won’t you?” Andrew asked sincerely. “You really should. It’s a great party.”

Tate faced me, echoing the invitation while Sam stood behind him, making begging gestures.

“Sure, of course, we’d love it,” I replied. “Is there a theme?”

“Nah,” Tate said. “Come as your wildest fantasy, darkest fear, or yourself, in a costume. No rules, no expectations. Just be there before midnight.”

“Will you turn back into pumpkins when the clock strikes twelve?” I asked, only slightly kidding.

Andrew stared at me with a serious expression. “Yes.” He held his face still for a moment before his rare smile lit up his eyes and he laughed.

I couldn’t help but return his grin. “Okay. We’ll be there.”

“Great,” Tate and Andrew said at the same time.

As soon as the door clicked closed behind them, Sam did a little jig. “Holy whoopie pies! We’re going to the best Halloween party ever, and got a personal invitation from Tate!”

She grabbed my hands and jumped on my bed. I joined her and we squealed.

After a few minutes of bouncing, we collapsed into a heap on top of my comforter. Our chests heaving and out of breath, we giggled and kicked our legs.

“Do I want to know about the peppercorns?” she asked.

“No.”

“You weren’t doing magic, were you?”

“Of course not. Don’t be silly.”

“Because casting spells on Mabon is powerful stuff. I wouldn’t want you to get it wrong and end up summoning a legion of toads.”

I gulped. “Is that possible?”

“Anything is possible. Like us going to Tate Winthrop’s party!” She fluttered her feet in the air a few times to emphasize her excitement. ““We have to find you a costume tomorrow!”

“What the hell am I going to wear to this party?”

“You need something sexy to wear.”

“Sexy? Really?”

“I know, we’ll make an exception, but something with a lot of leg.”

“Spider?”

“Not legs, just your two. And nothing creepy. Although, Andrew does seem the type to like the dark side. Sexy zombie?”

I laughed. “Sexy zombie nurse? Do animals become zombies? I could be a sexy zombie black cat.” I had to stop because I was laughing at my own joke. “Or bunny. A dead bunny, but sexy.”

“All right, all right. Nothing too sexy or dead. We’ll think of something perfect.”

Six

Beginning the next week, Andrew always sat next to me in seminar. His arm would brush mine when he took notes while I pretended to focus on whatever Dr. Philips said about the three-name author of the week. Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, or Louisa May Alcott… why did so many nineteenth century authors have three names?

“Want to grab a coffee?” Andrew asked as we walked out of the Alcott class. With his hands in his pockets, he seemed unsure of himself, unlike the typical, cool, aloof Andrew.

“I’m supposed to meet Sam,” I said, regretting rejecting him immediately. Wasn’t this what I wished for the other night?

“Oh.” He frowned.

“You could join us,” I offered.

Please let him join us. Andrew wanted to have coffee. With me. I could ditch Sam and explain later. Why hadn’t I thought before I opened my mouth? She’d understand. She would totally do the same and without a second thought if Tate asked her out.

Not that Andrew was asking me out. This wasn’t a date. It was coffee. I wanted to go and was willing to ditch my best friend. I closed my eyes and wished for her to understand before pulling out my phone to text her. However, my screen showed a new text alert from Sam.

*Got a costume idea. Heading into Boston. Sorry to bail on coffee. Catch you later.:)*

“Or not,” I said.

Andrew stopped walking and frowned, waiting for me to finish.

“No, not no. She just canceled.” I grinned, waving my phone in front of me.

His lips lifted in a lopsided smile. “Well, in that case, shall we?” He gestured toward the edge of campus.

“No campus cafe?”

With a shake of his head, he met my eyes. “I know someplace better.”

He led me through the wrought iron gates and past the ivy-covered stone walls, marking the edge of our little campus. After a few twists and turns through streets decorated for Halloween, we stood in front of a tiny house covered in black painted clapboards, diamond patterned panes of glass crisscrossing its small windows. I’d never seen it before. Even with the few stalks of dried corn and stack of white pumpkins made the place appear anything but festive. It looked a little creepy and probably a lot haunted.

“Here?” My voice squeaked.

“Sure. They make the best hot chocolate.” He opened the little door and ducked inside.

The door was that small.

I followed him into the dark space, bells chiming as the door closed behind me.

What’s with all of the bells in this town?

“People think they ward off bad spirits and bring good energy to the home or business,” Andrew answered.

“I asked that out loud?” My cheeks heated.

“Andrew!” A round woman with a frizzy halo of gray hair greeted him with a smile followed by an enveloping hug.

After extracting himself from her voluptuous curves, he introduced us. “Martha, this is my friend, Madison.”

Grinning at him, she extended her hand. “Nice to meet a friend of Andrew’s. Finally.”

I swore his cheeks pinked, but it was too dark to see clearly with the only light coming from the small windows and table lamps with black shades. My eyes slowly adjusted and I could see the walls were actually bookcases lined only with books with dark covers. In the nearest corner there was a barista working an espresso machine. Even the cups were black.

I worried if I dropped something or broke a cup, it would never be found again. “What is this place?”

He pressed his hand against my shoulder to steer me toward a table. “It’s had a lot of names over the years, but everyone calls it the Black Book, though I’m not sure why.”

I laughed as we sat down. “Because it’s completely black outside and in?”

His eyebrows did that furrowing thing where they disappeared into the frames of his glasses. “Huh, I’d never thought of that being the reason. I always figured it was because it was the perfect location for a secret rendezvous.”

Was that what this was? It was dark enough in here to have sex and no one would know.

We were interrupted by the return of Martha bearing two steaming cups and a plate of brownies. At least they looked like brownies. It was hard to differentiate them from the black plate.

“Death by chocolate. Andrew’s favorite,” she announced, squeezing his shoulder.

After she walked away, I said, “She seems fond of you.”

“I’ve known her my entire life. She and my mother are friends.”

“Does your mom still live here?”

“She does.”

I was prying — I could tell by the tightness in his shoulders — but I couldn’t stop myself. He was talking and I wanted to keep him speaking.

“Why don’t you live at home?”

He laughed, but he didn’t smile. “What twenty-one year old wants to live at home with his mother?”

I giggled. “Right. That would be weird.”

“The dorm is probably worse. Freshman are unbelievable.”

“I remember being an idiot first year.”

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but the kneeing incident in the lounge with Hamilton is pretty legendary in Residence Life.”

“Nooo.” I tried to hide underneath the table and realized I wasn’t bendy, so I made myself invisible by covering my eyes with my hands.

He chuckled, and I peeked at him from between my fingers.

“Please say you are teasing.” He didn’t answer, but his eyes danced with amusement. “Does everyone know?”

“I’m sure some of the freshman don’t, but you’re a legend. Own it.”

“This explains my lack of a love life. I’m the girl who knees boys in the balls. No wonder no one has asked me out in ages. I’m cursed.” I gave up the fight and laid my head on the table where I was eye level with the brownies. “At least I can die from chocolate instead of humiliation. Nice knowing you.” I broke off a big bite of brownie and ate it without lifting my head.

Andrew still hadn’t said anything.

I wondered how much chocolate I’d have to consume to actually die.

He tilted his neck to the side to study me. After a few beats, he said, “You’re not cursed.”

I felt a familiar tingle from his gaze. “I wish I could believe you, but I’m beginning to think someone put a hex on me.” I sighed.

He laughed again. “Really?”

“It’s worse than you know.”

“I’d be able to tell, trust me. No hex, no curse.” His hand brushed my arm, sending a shiver over my skin, raising my hair into goose bumps. It was the exact opposite of unpleasant.

“Sam thinks I’m a witch,” I blurted out.

He choked on his hot chocolate.

“I know, right? Something about family ancestors and matrilineal genes or something. I think she’s confusing magic and Judaism.” I lifted my head off the table and sipped my drink, which tasted exactly like melted chocolate.

“That explains the smudging last weekend.”

“Sam is into Wicca this year.”

“And you? Do you believe in magic?”

“Not really.” I met his beautiful brown eyes, which reminded me of warm melted chocolate. There was a chocolate I’d like to die by. Death by Andrew. A familiar feeling fluttered low in my belly and I crossed my legs. It had been ages since anything fluttered.

“Just curses and hexes, but not the good stuff?” he asked, playing with his cup, suddenly interested in studying the grain of the wood on the table.

“Being able to hex someone sounds pretty good to me.” I remembered wishing Hamilton would fall and my delight when he did. “Or do you mean magical potions and flying brooms? Do you believe?”

He shrugged. “Growing up in Salem, you begin to believe in all sorts of things, both light and darkness.”

Sarah and Sam’s words about Mabon echoed in my head … the balance between light and dark. Hexes and love spells.

“I think Philips’ class is getting to me,” I said. “Everything so far this semester has turned into the same conversation.”

“Then let’s talk about something else. You know more about me than I do about you. Tell me something I don’t know.” He smiled, and when he leaned back into the shadows, the low table light emphasized his angular jaw and high cheekbones.

“I’m an English major, but you probably already guessed as much since we have class together. Minor in business.”

“Business, eh?”

“Not a lot of jobs out there for English majors. It was my father’s idea.”

“Smart man.”

“And your major?”

“Bio-chemistry.”

He looked like a chemistry major. All glasses and smarts.

“How does an upper level English class fit into that?”

“I like to read.” He gave me a small smile. “I know, it’s weird.”

I matched his expression. “I like boys who read.”

His smile faltered and was quickly replaced by a grin. “Good to know.”

We chatted about classes, majors, and life in the dorms as the dim light from the windows grew darker. Andrew wasn’t as weird as I’d imagined — more serious than weird. Kind of an old soul. And cute. Very cute. Even in a dark bookstore café.

Okay, that place was a little weird.

Andrew walked me back to my dorm, saying he was meeting up with Tate. When he paused before the wide steps to the entrance, I ended up standing two steps above him, making us about the same height. I could see the layers of brown in his eyes and a slim line of silver near his pupil. He had a fine layer of dark stubble along his pale jaw, which only accentuated the deep red of his lips. Women would kill for his lip color.

“Hey.” He grabbed my hand.

I looked down to where his fingers touched mine, then back up at his face.

My breath stalled at the look in his eyes; it was lust, pure and new.

“I had fun this afternoon.” His eyes flicked down to my lips.

“Me too.” I leaned slightly forward and inhaled, waiting.

This was one of those moments before a kiss. The air between us crackled and our bodies drew together like magnets. Allowing my eyes to drift closed, I slowly exhaled and waited.

His fingers flexed against mine for a second before he let go, but I didn’t feel him step away.

I slowly blinked open my eyes to meet his.

He had an eyelash on his cheek. I reached up to touch it, transferring it to my finger. “Make a wish,” I whispered, holding out the tip of my finger for him to see it.

“You keep it.”

“Are you sure?”

His eyes settled back on my lips. When he shook his head, his hair flopped over his eyes. “No.”

I frowned and blew on the lash, but didn’t make a wish. Time paused as I waited for him to do something. I expected him to walk away. I hoped he didn’t. After a moment of quiet with only the sound breeze rustling the dying leaves, I turned to step away. However, he lifted his hand to my cheek to stop me.

“Madison …” he whispered, inching closer to my lips. His eyes remained locked with mine until they began to blur. Once again, I closed my eyes. This time I felt his breath brush lightly across my lips. It was a split second that felt like infinity before his mouth made contact with mine.

I pressed against him. My lips, my chest, my hips were magnets seeking connection. I gasped at the sensation of his hand wrapping around my neck, tilting my head back. He accepted it as invitation, exploring, claiming my mouth with his tongue. My own hands gripped his shoulders before winding their way into the hair at the nape of his neck. It was soft, so soft. I wanted to bury my nose in it.

All too soon he paused and then broke off the kiss, letting his hand drop away from my skin.

I stood for a moment with my eyes closed and my lips parted, waiting for him to kiss me again. The cool air breached the warmth between our bodies, forcing me to open my eyes and accept the kiss was over.

He slowly came into focus. My lips were swollen and my brain fuzzy from the kiss. He looked torn between joy and uncertainty; both emotions flickered across his face.

“I, um …” he paused, “I’ll see you in class.” He turned and swiftly walked away from me.

I guess he wasn’t visiting Tate after all.

I knew one thing for certain: the love spell seemed to be working.

Andrew had totally kissed me. With tongue.

Seven

I stared at my yellow and black reflection in the full-length mirror on my closet door.

“This? Why?” I plucked at the black tutu barely covering my ass. “Sexy bee? Sexy insect?” I shrieked. “If I was going as a sexy insect, shouldn’t it be a praying mantis?”

Sam glared at me. “No, they eat their males after sex. Not the message you want to be sending tonight.” She snort-laughed. “Bee sending,” she repeated.

“Help. I can’t be a bee. The puns will kill me.”

“Hold on, I’m not finished with the costume.” She placed a headband with a tiny, black witch’s hat on my head.

“I don’t get it.”

“Think about it.”

“I am! I look ridiculous.” Neon-colored diamond-patterned tights, the aforementioned microscopic tutu, and a yellow and black striped top. “Don’t forget these.” I turned to show her my wings.

“You’re bee-witched!” She clapped her hands together. “Get it? It’s brilliant.”

“If you do say so yourself.” I fought a smile. “Fine. It’s clever.”

“Andrew’s going to love it!”

“Does he have a bee fetish I’m not aware of? A passion for all things honey?” I tried to tug my nonexistent skirt lower only to have my hands swatted away.

“Not that I know of, but you look super hot. He won’t be able to resist.”

The last part was true. The love spell had clearly worked. Our chocolate date and the kiss proved it. He’d sat next to me in class again. We’d exchanged numbers, and texted a bunch of times.

Which was all great, but it wasn’t.

Did he really like me, or was it the spell?

There was only one way to find out. I picked up the heart charm and tied it around my neck.

“Red doesn’t really go with the bee thing, Maddy.” Sam wrinkled her nose. “Do you have to wear it tonight?”

“Listen, I’m letting you dress me up as a bee, I mean a bee-witch. Let me wear the necklace. Please?”

“If you insist.” She adjusted her corset and top hat. “Do you think Tate will like this?”

“I have no idea, but he’s a guy, with eyes, so I think he’ll love it.”

Sam was dressed as some sort of time-traveling, Steampunk, corset wearing hottie. She looked like a badass milkmaid.

I looked like a bee. Wearing a hat. At least my legs looked great.

Jack-o’-lanterns and luminaries lined the long driveway to the enormous stone mansion the Winthrops called a summerhouse. It was a far cry from the two-bedroom place my grandparents had on the Cape. Eerie white forms hung in the trees and swayed in the breeze. Shadowy figures spilled out of the house onto the lawn and driveway. It was impossible to identify anyone given the non-existent light, fake smoke, and costumes. A pair of sexy black cats dashed past us, squealing and holding their tails. Sam’s gaze met mine, and even in the dark I could see her roll hers.

“Where do you think Tate and Andrew are?” I asked as we approached the stone staircase leading up to the front door. “We’ll never find them.”

“We just got here, don’t lose faith yet.” She took my hand and led me inside, where the crowd filled the dark, paneled grand foyer and music pulsed from multiple speakers. “Let’s find the bar,” she shouted.

I allowed myself to be led deeper into the maze of hallways, feeling the urge to leave a trail of breadcrumbs behind me to find my way out again. We passed open doors into rooms that might be called studies or dens, each filled with a random assortment of costumed partygoers. Sexy bunnies chatted up rotting zombies while doctors flirted with sexy nurses. Hamilton was there dressed as a pimp, complete with hideous purple zebra pimp hat. Gross. If this love spell and magic thing did really work, I planned to buy a spell to give him boils. Or make his dick shrivel up smaller, if that was possible. He didn’t have the cock to back up his cocky attitude.

After asking a hobbit about the bar, we stepped outside on a large back terrace overlooking the dark beach and black water beyond. A huge bar — filled with bizarre looking jars of smoking potions — stood off to the left. The crowd was only a few people deep when we joined the line. I scanned the space for a familiar tall, lanky form with pale hands and long fingers while Sam chatted up a sexy Tardis in line ahead of us. Still no sign of our hosts.

“What’s your potion tonight?” a familiar voice asked.

My head whipped around so fast my witch’s hat almost flew off. Andrew stood behind the bar in a suit and trench coat.

“Maddy?”

“Andrew? Or should I say, Dr. Who?”

“Who?” Sam asked.

“He’s Doctor Who,” the sexy Tardis scoffed at us while tilting her cleavage in Andrew’s direction. The fact she had cleavage while dressed as a blue British telephone booth earned her bonus points for execution.

Andrew’s eyes widened and he averted his eyes as fast as possible.

“I heard you the first time and that’s why I asked who?” Sam said.

“He’s Who,” I said.

“Who?”

“I’m Who,” Andrew said, laughing.

“Sam, his costume is Doctor Who, from the show of the same name,” I explained.

Sam’s head ping-ponged between us like she was watching a tennis match. “Oh, one of those geeky shows you watch. Explains the coat.”

Andrew scowled at her. He turned to me and asked, “And what are you? A sexy bee?” His lips curled with a grin.

“Ugh, no. I’m—”

“She’s bewitched!” Sam blurted out, still extremely pleased with her idea.

Andrew smiled and leaned across the bar. I mirrored him, moving closer so he could speak directly in my ear. I may have hip-checked the Tardis out of the way on accident. Oops.

“You’ve bewitched me, heart and soul,” he said, quoting Mr. Darcy. I nearly swooned, and did in fact sway on my ridiculously high heels.

I blinked a few times as he smiled and stood to his full height. Bells tinkled and my eyes sought out their source, but I couldn’t find it. Instead, I said the first thing that came to mind, “You’re eyes are different. They’re blue. Or gray.” They reminded me of someone else’s eyes, but I couldn’t place them.

He stared at me for a few seconds. “They’re contacts. You like?” He batted his ridiculously long, dark lashes, rendering me speechless for a moment.

“Maddy?” he asked.

I gave him a shy smile. “I do, they’re very pretty, but I miss your glasses.”

“Good to know.” He grinned at me. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, what’s your potion?” He pointed at the labels on a row of enormous glass jars.

Number nine looked pink and much less scary than the black number thirteen or the milky green number six. “Number nine, please,” I said.

“Excellent choice,” Tate said, appearing from out of nowhere. He was dressed in all black with a long black cape; his dreads were pulled back and tucked under a tall top hat. “The love potion.”

My mouth dropped open, and Sam snickered beside me before ordering the same thing. Tate handed us both smoking glasses of pink liquid, which tasted like strawberries.

While Sam and Tate chatted, Andrew served drinks to a teen wolf and a fairy. I watched him and played with my heart charm. If I took it off now and dropped it, would it seal my fate with Andrew? Did I want him to fall in love with me because of a spell or potion? Would it even count as real love?

Before I could dwell, Sam was tugging me to the dance floor. I waved to Andrew before we were swallowed up by the crowd. The music was louder inside and I lost myself to the beat. We danced our way into the center of the crowded space. I grabbed Sam’s hands and raised our arms in the air, giggling together as we bumped hips. People jostled us and we broke apart. A monkey man spun Sam around, and then gave her a banana. I laughed so hard I bent to catch my breath… and felt the ribbon at my neck loosen and give way before it fell to the floor.

Oh no!

The heart.

I froze and looked around, holding my breath, wishing Andrew would be standing in front of me. Instead, my worst fear walked toward me. A purple zebra pimp hat moved through the crowd in our direction. Blond hair and brown eyes came into focus. Hamilton winked at me.

No. No. No.

I closed my eyes and spun around, stumbling when I met with the solid wall of someone’s chest. A pair of hands wrapped around my biceps, steadying me.

I gasped and opened my eyes to meet pale blue ones, and a lopsided smile.

“Hi,” I said, exhaling in relief.

Andrew just smiled and grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the dance floor and Hamilton. Outside he kept going past the terrace, leading me down a stone path to the beach.

“My heart!” I exclaimed, stopping in the middle of the path.

“What?”

“I lost my heart pendant on the dance floor. I should go find it.”

“You’ll never find it in the crowd.”

I frowned.

He pressed his finger to my bottom lip. “It’s not important, is it?”

The charm itself wasn’t worth anything, but how could I confess to him how important it was to find it — or even more important, he find it, for the love spell to be completed.

He studied me for a minute before pressing his hand to my cheek.

I wanted to kiss him again — more than I wanted to find the heart, even more than I cared about superstitious hocus-pocus magic, so I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.

He responded by wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer. With my heels, the height difference was much less and I could easily reach my hands into his hair. His open coat formed a cocoon around us.

We kissed like no one could see us, like we were the last two people alive, or the first people ever to fall in love. We kissed like we were falling in love.

My head spun as the earth shifted beneath my feet. Unable to catch my breath, I broke off the kiss, nuzzling my nose in his neck.

This was falling in love.

“Madison,” he whispered into my hair.

“Mmm.”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Okay.” I lifted my head to meet his gaze.

Gently cupping my cheeks, he searched my eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I know about the love spell.”

Eight

“What?” I tried to pull away from him, but his arm around my waist held me in place. Therefore, all I achieved was bending backward and grinding my hips against him.

Oh. Spell or no spell, Andrew liked me. Really liked me.

I had hard evidence… against my stomach. When he moaned and pulled his hips away, I pouted.

“The spell?” he reminded me.

Oh, right. The spell.

“I don’t even believe in magic. It was kind of a joke, and I lost the heart pendant. My true love was supposed to find it when it dropped, but you didn’t. And I saw Hamilton first. So it didn’t work,” I babbled.

Andrew stilled and remained silent.

I rewound what I’d said. Not believing in magic, joke, not working … true love … him.

Closing my eyes, I wished for the ground to swallow me whole. The beach and the icy cold water sat a few yards away. A short run and I could throw myself into the sea.

“Madison, open your eyes.”

I opened one eye, and then slowly the other.

Andrew smiled at me. “Even if you don’t believe in magic, I do.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Really?”

“Doubts the girl who used a love spell on me,” he said with a chuckle and a peck to my lips. “If you didn’t believe, just a little, why are you worried about the spell working or not working?”

He had me there. “I, um.” I paused and sucked in a deep breath to buy some time. “If it worked, then you don’t really like me, you’re just enchanted. Or whatever you call it. And if it didn’t work, then I’m embarrassed and a fool.”

“What if I told you it didn’t work, but I’m still enchanted, although I prefer the word bewitched.”

Bewitched. My skin tingled and warmed.

“Walk with me? I want to show you something.” He entwined his fingers with mine and gently pulled me down the path.

I followed. Of course.

The beach was quiet except for small waves slapping against the rocky shore. Sand and rocks were madness with these heels, so I removed them and walked barefoot through the cold, wet sand. A large shadow loomed down the beach, and I realized it was a pile of wood for a bonfire.

“Is this the midnight surprise?” I asked, circling the pyre.

“It is. Tonight’s Samhain as well as Halloween. Do you know about it?” He followed behind me, but at a distance.

“Sam and Sarah told me a little. It’s the night when the threshold between worlds gets thinner and magic is easier.”

“Sarah?” He stopped walking.

I stopped, too, and faced him. “Sarah, at the Spelling B.”

He smirked. “I should have known.”

“Known what?” I stepped closer. His contacts made his eyes almost glow in the light from the sliver of moon above the bay. “Your contacts remind me of her eyes.”

“How odd.” He glanced down at his watch. “I’ll explain everything in a minute.”

With a look over his shoulder toward the house, he crouched near the wood. He held his hands in front of him and a spark hit the kindling. I never saw a match. Within seconds, a blue flame spread through the stack before transforming into a warm blaze. Flames reached toward the sky.

“I’ve never seen a bonfire alight so quickly,” I said in awe. “How did you do that?”

He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Seriously, how did you do that? Lighter fluid? I didn’t even see you use a lighter.”

“I didn’t.”

“What? That’s impossible.”

“Not if you believe in magic.”

I was utterly, completely, and entirely confused.

“Andrew?”

“Uh huh,” he said, stepping closer and touching my hips above my tutu.

“What going on?”

“Hmm … well, if you don’t believe in magic, nothing. Just two people standing near a bonfire.”

“A bonfire you lit with your hands.”

“Not if you don’t believe.”

“But I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Appearances can be deliberately deceiving.”

“You’re speaking in riddles.”

“I’m hoping you’ll catch on without me having to spell it out for you.” He chuckled and kissed me again.

I let myself fall into the kiss, but my mind kept spinning with questions. Andrew Wildes wasn’t what he seemed. Something clicked.

“You’re not wearing contacts tonight, are you?”

I could feel his smile against my cheek.

“I think you’re catching on.” As he spoke, his scruff rubbed against my skin.

“Glasses?”

“Fake lenses.” A kiss to my neck.

My forehead creased. He kissed the wrinkles.

“Wait. Contacts and fake lenses?”

He nodded, or at least dipped his chin in the beginning of a nod. His glacial blue eyes pierced through me. I shivered with the chill of his stare.

“All part of the illusion.”

“At first we dress to deceive?” I asked. When I crossed my arms, my wings tightened at my shoulders. This conversation was surreal enough beyond the fact it was happening while I was dressed like a bee.

“The quiet, loner boy who no one notices.” He raised one shoulder in a lopsided shrug

“But why?”

“Maybe I didn’t want to be who everyone expected me to be.”

“Because you’re from here.” I was missing something.

“And my mom.”

I gasped. The pieces fell into place like a puzzle coming together. “Your mom is Sarah at the Spelling Bee!”

“The lady is on to something.”

“Your mom is the most powerful witch in Salem.”

“Ding, ding,” he said flatly.

“Sam told me Sarah is a real witch.” I stopped myself and stared at him. “Does that mean …”

“I’m a witch.”

It wasn’t a question.

“You’re a witch?”

He nodded.

I nodded. “So the fire?”

He wiggled his fingers in front of me.

“And the love spell?”

He laughed. “The peppercorns made me suspicious. When I saw your heart pendant tonight, I recognized it from my mom’s shop.”

My cheeks heated, and not from the heat of the bonfire. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be.” He kissed me again. “Those spells don’t work.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s against coven rules to influence emotions.”

“Yet okay for us mere mortals to think they do?”

“It’s all about the power of suggestion.” He looked smug.

“So, according to you, the spell didn’t work?”

“Right.”

“But you’re kissing me.”

“Not right now I’m not.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “Or now.” He kissed the other corner, then smiled.

I smiled back.

“I like you, Madison. A lot. I have since you were a freshman.”

I scrunched up my nose. “I didn’t know you then.” I stopped. “Oh. The boy no one notices.”

He nodded, watching me carefully with a guarded expression.

“A bio-chem major in an English lit seminar?”

He shrugged. “I honestly like to read, but maybe I found out you’d be in Philips’ class.”

“Magic?”

“Friend works in the registrar’s office.”

“Any other magic I should know about?”

He looked down at his feet. “Maybe.”

I used my finger to tip up his chin.

“Hamilton’s chair didn’t fall on its own.”

My eyebrows touched my hairline. “I thought I wished that!”

“You kind of did. I could read your face and helped a little.”

“When else?”

“The rain when you wouldn’t accept my umbrella.”

“You can control the weather?”

He nodded. “Not in the grand scheme of things, but temporarily.”

“And Sam canceling coffee?”

Pressing his lips together, he shook his head. “A happy coincidence. I was working on something, but didn’t need to use it.”

“So you’re a real witch.”

He grinned. “I am. And you’re a Bradbury girl.”

Sarah’s strange words echoed in my head. A brown-haired Bradbury girl.

“I am.” I gave him a quizzical look.

“Mary Bradbury survived the Salem witch trials, but Sarah Wildes didn’t. There’s a long history between our families. And…” he paused and exhaled, “My mother saw you coming into my life two years ago.”

“Freshman year.”

He nodded, pulling me into his arms.

“You must have been relieved she didn’t say Dorcus Hoar was to be your true love.”

Andrew threw his head back and laughed. “So relieved.”

“Poor Dorcus. Persecuted when alive, and mocked in death.”

“I can call you Dorcus, if you feel so bad.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Please don’t.” I laughed and kissed him between chuckles. Laugh-kissing was better than snort-laughing.

He stopped laughing and his eyes focused on mine. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”

I would have said more, but his lips crashed against mine, and I knew he’d waited long enough.

Whoops and screams coming down the lawn broke us apart, but Andrew held fast to my hand, not letting me move away from his side. Various partygoers tumbled toward the fire, among them Tate and Sarah walking close together, arms entwined.

I met Andrew’s eye and he kissed my forehead. “Don’t tell Sam her spell didn’t work either.”

My eyes widened, but I laughed.

If she needed to believe in spells, so be it.

I believed in real magic.

Before writing bestselling contemporary adult romances, Daisy dreamed of being an author while doing a lot of other things. Antiques dealer, baker, blue ribbon pie-maker, fangirl, freelance writer, gardener, pet mom and wife are a few of the titles she's acquired over the years.

Born and raised in San Diego, Daisy currently lives in a real life Stars Hollow in the Boston suburbs with her husband, their dog Hubbell, and a still nameless imaginary house goat.

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Geoducks Are for Lovers (Modern Love Story #1)

Ready to Fall (Modern Love Story #2)

Missionary Position (Modern Love Story #3)

Take Two (Modern Love Story Short)