Page 66 of Summer L.A.W.

Magda tapped a sprig of rosemary against her palm. “He’s contributing.”

“He’s a menace,” Sebastian said, placing the beaker out of reach before Wally reclaimed it.

They began to work in a strangely effective rhythm. Magda opened jars and sniffed for emotional resonance while Sebastian calibrated instruments with millimeter precision. She murmured to basil leaves; he logged measurements. She always seemed to reach for the tool he had just finished using, and he kept handing her things before she had to ask.

“You really name your samples after emotions?” he asked, eyeing her vials: Hope, Ease, and Something Reckless?

“It’s easier than A through H,” she said. “And the universe appreciates honesty.”

“You’d hate my dissertation. Nothing but facts and graphs to back them up.”

“Everyone needs a hobby,” she said.

Despite themselves, they kept drifting closer. Magda crushed rosehips in a mortar while Sebastian adjusted the burner under her cauldron, leaning past her shoulder to check the temperature. His sleeve brushed her arm. She didn’t move it.

Wally hopped back onto Magda’s bench, clearly bored. He nudged a beaker toward the edge. Magda caught it, Sebastian caught her wrist, and suddenly their faces were much too close.

“Reflexes,” he said, not letting go.

“Teamwork,” she answered, also not letting go.

They separated a beat later than strictly necessary.

“Let’s try a basic control,” Sebastian said, voice a shade higher than before. “Neutral solution. No variables. No emotions.”

Magda sprinkled chamomile into the cauldron. “Everything has emotions. Even your beakers get moody.”

“They do not get—” He stopped when the cauldron bubbles shimmered violet. “Fine. Your way first. My way second.”

The montage of the day unfolded: Magda selecting herbs by intuition; Sebastian weighing ingredients to the tenth of a gram; Wally attempting to type on Sebastian’s laptop and being diplomatically blocked by a notebook. They moved around each other in an orbit that grew steadily, dangerously, comfortable.

Magda filled a bowl with the potion from her cauldron. “Hydrometer,” she said.

Sebastian passed it immediately.

“Spatula.”

Instantly in her hand.

“Pencil.”

She plucked it from behind his ear before she could second-guess the impulse. He startled slightly, watching her with a look that said he wasn’t used to people reaching into his personal space, much less being okay with it.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

He cleared his throat. “Anytime.”

Wally chose that moment to knock a thin trail of potion from the rim of the bowl. The shimmering liquid slid down the side and puddled. Magda grabbed a cloth; Sebastian grabbed the bowl. Their hands collided in the spilled liquid and adhered.

“Oh,” Magda said.

“Do not panic,” Sebastian said, instantly panicking.

The potion stretched like warm mozzarella when they tried to pull apart.

Wally sniffed, got too close, and the potion latched onto his whiskers. He shook his head violently, which nearly yanked the bowl from Sebastian’s grip.

“Don’t you dare break my bowl,” Magda told the wallaby.