Page 32 of Hexed & Hazy

I don’t have to finish the sentence. We share the same worst fear: some magical thing in our lives harming her. Mrs. Bautista is one of the few people who remains untouched by Starbrook’s magic. She’s the final motherly figure either of us has now that my mom is gone.

“Then I won’t tell her,” I whisper.

He says nothing. With the sound of dramatic horror screams drowning out my thoughts, I continue chopping.

My gaze lifts when Seth pulls off his dark blue sweater. The shirt underneath rises, revealing a sliver of his stomach. It’s over, too. The fabric falls back around his midriff, and his arms flex beneath his white T-shirt as he flips the meatballs.

It’s nothing. So, why is there a pulse between my thighs?

He turns to look at me and smirks. “See something you like?”

And just like that, the spell is broken. He’s back to being a teasing, all-too-flirtatious fool who got himself hexed.

I narrow my eyes. “Not particularly, no.”

Laughter falls past his lips as he turns away, lifting and dropping his shoulders. This time, I can’t help but wonder if the flex of his arms is on purpose. “If you say so.”

I look away. “Onion is done.”

“Thanks. Can you put it in a bowl?”

“Mhm.”

I slip past him to grab a bowl, our bodies brushing as I go. His front presses to my back, and for a moment, his hand lands on my hip. When I first began gaining weight, I was insecure about the extra padding that collected there. If I hadn’t already worked through that little adjustment phase, the slight groan that falls from Seth’s mouth as his fingers dig in would do the trick.

How would it feel for him to hold me there when I’m wearing less? To feel his calloused fingers on my smooth skin?

“Careful,” he whispers harshly. “The pot is hot. Don’t want you burning yourself.”

“I-I know. I’m not that clumsy.”

“Just trying to keep you safe.” His voice softens. “Like you do for me.”

Looking back at him would be too bold. I keep my back to him as I scurry to the other side of the kitchen. It’s safer this way. More space. We’re friends—barely friends and only because of forced proximity from our childhood. Now, he’s only hanging out with me so I can break his hex.

I’m nothing to him. Gods, I wish he meant nothing to me, but every touch wakes up my soul, and I want more… but I can never quite bring myself to ask for it.

I chop up the green onions with a little too much aggression, and even when I finish, I avoid looking at him. “You don’t need anything else from me?”

“Uh, no. Not really.”

“Cool. I’m going to sit…” I gesture to the living room and stride away.

The more distance between us, the better.

Dinner is as delicious as always, a savory meatball soup with fish sauce and onions, and the thinnest noodles. I leave with a giant Tupperware bowl full of soup for the rest of the family. It will probably be gone by the end of the night. Liezel is there to act as a buffer between us—sweet Liezel, who has no clue about Seth’s hex. Maybe it’s her right to know. My mother would want her to know, and if it’s true that the hex could transform and impact her… her health… her life…

Well, it’s not my call to make either way.

Once Liezel’s movie is over and she’s retired to her bedroom, I bolt to the door without speaking or talking to Seth.

“Wait!” he says.

I freeze and cringe.

“Let me walk you home.”

I turn to face him, lifting an eyebrow. “I live across the street. You don’t need to⁠—”