Page 19 of Meet Cute Magic

“Quest,” I say under my breath before taking a bite of the cinnamon roll and trying not to groan. Flaky and buttery, spiced and sweet, with a thick layer of cream cheese frosting on top. There’s no wonder it’s the item that typically sells out first.

“What?”

“It would be a side quest. The games I play, we go on quests.” She nods her head like that makes total sense, like she’s cataloging this new knowledge for future use. One of the most confusing and irritating things about Rosie is that I can never tell if she’s fucking with me. Most people hear that and let out a laugh, calling me a nerd, but her nod looks almost sincere. I’m unsure how to feel about it.

“Oh, of course. Well, my side quest is going to be to win you over once and for all.”

“You’re going to win me over?” She nods. “Good luck with that.” That’s when she does something strange.

She smiles. As if she is thoroughly entertained by me, by this. By the challenge.

“Yes. Now, which coffee do you like? I grabbed a few, one of Vi’s specials, a caramel macchiato, and a plain coffee with a bag of milks and sugars for you to fix it yourself if that’s what you like.” She lifts a small white bag she hasn’t unpacked. I stare, not understanding.

“Why?”

She sighs like she’s tired of explaining, then does just that. “So I can know your order, of course. We didn’t exchange numbers, so I couldn’t text you to ask.”

“Why not ask your sister? I go there enough, she would probably know.”

“There’s no fun in that. I want to be your friend by learning about you, not by using a cheat code from my sister.” I don’t bother to tell her that using her own sister, who owns the place I frequent regularly, wouldn’t be cheating; instead, I shrug and grab the one with S’mores Latte written on top. She eyes me skeptically.

“I would have taken you as a black coffee kind of guy.”

I shrug. “I was until I started going to Sugar and Spice. Once I grabbed the wrong drink when I was picking up, and now I always go for the special.” She nods after a moment, before reaching for a muffin. She digs through another bag, grabbing a knife and butter, then slathers the inside of the muffin with butter and places it on a plate she also brought. It seems she came fully prepared. Then she shifts, putting her back to the counter and hopping up on it. I lean against it, just two feet from her, staring at the cinnamon roll I picked out while also eyeing the chocolate chip muffin. I have to admit I’m a bit… confused.

“You didn’t have to do this,” I say after a few minutes of eating in near silence, the only noise from Rosie occasionally asking questions about posters or figures or signs in the shop and me begrudgingly answering.

“I know,” she says simply. I stare at her as she pops the last bite of her muffin in her mouth, then slides off the counter, cleaning up as she does. “Come on, we have a task,” she says as she tosses the garbage and organizes the rest of the treats we didn’t even touch into a box. My brow furrows.

“What? Oh, did you… did you already forget?” She looks at me with a gentle look before reaching out and touching my arm. “Last night wasn’t a dream, Jack.”

“Jesus, I know it wasn’t. I’m not an idiot. I just…” Didn’t actually think about the whole have to spend time with you aspect of this. Or maybe I just thought I’d have more time to come to terms with things. I don’t know. Either way, I am strikingly unprepared for spending more time with her this morning.

But it probably means I’ll get another glimpse at the magic I can’t stop thinking about…

“Okay,” I say with resignation, shaking my head. “What’s today’s task?” She smiles then, sliding her jacket on and tipping her head toward the door.

“Come on,” she says. And then she’s out the door, and I’m hustling to grab my jacket and follow her.

We walk in silence for about ten minutes in the cool early fall air before finally, Rosie stops at a small field that is about a quarter-mile walk from our place. “What do we need to get from here?” I ask. She looks around as if unsure if this is a good spot before shrugging and setting her bag down to dig through it—a bag I only just realized she had brought with her.

“Dew from grass blades the day before, day of, and the day after a waxing crescent moon. The waxing crescent moon comes tomorrow, and since there’s some room for error with this one, I want to make sure we get our first shot today. If we have an issue, we can try a second time at the next waxing crescent moon, but I don’t want to cut it too close, you know?” I nod, even though very little of this makes sense to me, as she grabs a small vial and stands.

“How are we supposed to collect dew? Are we going to use a towel and squeeze it or…” Then her face transforms into a pitying smile.

“You’re so sweet,” she says softly, then pats my cheek.

“I don’t—” But I’m stopped when she starts to speak and remember the most important part of this task: Rosie has magic. I stare at her hand for a moment before asking the question that’s been plaguing me. “Does it have a shape?”

“Hmm?” she asks, removing the stopper from the vial and inspecting it.

“Your magic. I couldn’t see it.”

“That’s because I wanted you to see it working on the pastries. It knows what I want, and normally, I want it hidden; that’s kind of the default setting, so to speak. Other magical creatures and beings can see my magic, but normal people like you can’t, not unless I tell my magic to reveal itself in that way. So you couldn’t see it moving along the vase shards, but it was there,” she patiently explains, and I nod as if that makes perfect sense, which it does not, not really.

“What does it look like? Is it pink like in my shop?” Her smile is wide and genuine, and for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel stupid asking questions. I’ve always been incredibly curious, always wanting to know more about things, but it turns out, people don’t like it when you ask too many questions. I used to get annoyed looks and heavy sighs when I asked questions, until I stopped, cataloging my inquiries for when I was alone and could do my own research.

But it doesn’t seem to faze Rosie. “Want me to make it visible?” she asks instead. I nod eagerly, and she smiles wide before speaking. “Magic is real, but Jack couldn’t believe it, gather the dew in a way he can see it.”