Page 35 of Hexed & Hazy

On my way out of the greenhouse, someone calls my name—distinctly feminine but not entirely memorable until I turn to find a very pink Farrah Poole.

She’s out of breath by the time she meets me. “Seth. Sorry. I’ve been looking for you.”

My brow knits together. “You… have?”

She nods, warm air puffing out of her nose like she’s a dragon. “Victoria told me you were visiting her, and I… I hope she wasn’t too mean to you.”

Farrah looks up at me so earnestly that I feel bad. She’s friends with Victoria and me, and times like these must make her feel weird.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I never meant to put you in the middle.”

“No, stop. It’s fine.” She shifts and looks away, pressing her lips together. “That’s… all I wanted to say, I guess.”

My face crumples in confusion. “And you ran over here to say it?”

Seems like an awful lot of effort. I don’t deserve apologies, but Farrah can’t understand that, and I’m still not sure how many people I want to know about the hex. Did Victoria tell her about it?

My face heats with embarrassment.

Silence falls over us. Heavy. Awkward. I’ve worked with Farrah for years, but it’s never felt as awkward as this moment.

“Um… yeah. Bye!” And then she runs away.

She’s so weird sometimes.

I turn to look at Donnie in the greenhouse and, of course, he’s doubled over with laughter.

Chapter 13

Rowan

I know David well. He’s a few years older than me—closer to Juniper and Maple’s age than mine—but we’re acquainted from the tavern and his family’s ice cream shop. He’s kind, and perhaps I should have made our meeting with him the first one. It will doubtless go better than meeting with Victoria did.

It doesn’t take much for him to agree to get a drink with Seth and me. It’s strange, all things considered, and I have to convince him we’re not looking for a third—why does everyone think Seth and I are dating?

David

Is this a sex thing?

Me

No. What?

David

I could be open to it.

Me

Sorry to disappoint, but it’s not.

Needless to say, I have my doubts that Dave is behind the hex, but stranger things have happened; he may be lulling us with a false sense of security.

Seth and I squeeze into a little booth at the back of the Moonlit Tavern—the bar owned by my oldest sisters. They boast the best food, drinks, and potions in all of Starbrook, and the ambiance is unmatched. Natural wood furniture, magical floating lights, soft goth music—likely Juniper’s choice—and spelled drinks for any intention.

Or perhaps I’m biased.

Seth looks around as he lifts his beer to his lips, taking a heavy swig.