Page 20 of Meet Cute Magic

With her words, pink-tinged glittering strands leave her fingertips, and I watch with bated breath as they move through the air, doubling and spreading across the grass. As the strands hit blades of grass, the dew forms water droplets that hover over the ground, reflecting the pink glowing glitter surrounding it until the ground before us glows and gleams, the fat water droplets dancing. Another pulse of magic moves across the area, and the droplets lift, merging and combining before floating to where Rosie is holding out the vial. The water forms a soft stream before moving into the vial’s opening and settling into the glass.

Rosie looks at the side of the bottle as if assessing the volume before saying, “That’s enough, thank you.” Her magic responds, the water stopping its accumulation, the excess falling to the ground at her feet, and the glittering strands of magic dispersing into the air before she puts the stopper back on her vial.

“Easy as that,” she says, like it’s no big deal, but I’m staring at the now dry blades of grass and the vial in her hands, filled with morning dew. I know I saw her do a bit of magic last night, fixing the vase, and again this morning when testing the food she brought me, but both could be explained away as a trick of the eye. But this?

This is pure magic.

Kind of like Rosie, I’m beginning to realize.

The next morning, I’m slightly less shocked when Rosemary—Rosie—is at my door, this time with only two bags and two coffees. I move to the door, opening it up and letting her in, but this time I grab the coffee carrier from her hands. The top of the coffees read Rosie’s and Jack’s instead of the type, and the look of it warms something in my gut that I vehemently ignore.

“Today is Pecan Pie,” Rosie explains of the coffee before bringing our goodies to the counter, where I start to unpack. There’s a muffin that I assume is for Rosie, and a cinnamon roll and an additional muffin. Clearly, she noticed what I ate yesterday, and again, that same warmth rolls through me. I don’t have many close friends, by my own decision and inability or unwillingness to mingle, but I assume this is what Rosie’s definition of friendship looks like.

I’ve never had a friend like Rosie, though I’m not sure I can call her a friend yet, but it makes me feel good that someone cares enough to try and win me over and take note of what coffee I like and what breakfast pastries I chose.

“There’s also a brownie, a pumpkin scone, and an apple fritter in there, in case you wanted to try something new. I will admit, I did ask Vi this morning what you typically get pastry-wise, which,” she raises her hands as if I’ve argued, though I’ve remained silent, “I know, I know, is cheating. She told me cinnamon roll anytime she has them, and a muffin if not. Sometimes you grab a cookie for later, but she was all out so that’s where the brownie comes in.” I’m blown away by this, by her attention to detail.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask.

“Because I want you to like me,” she says quickly, and as I watch her, assessing, I shake my head. She raises a brow, confused. “People don’t not like me. It’s annoying to me that you don’t.” She’s lying, though.

“No, no. That’s not it.” She opens her mouth to argue. “I mean, it is. But it’s not.” She sighs, once more sliding her ass onto the counter before taking a long sip of her coffee that smells like cinnamon and spices, before speaking.

“I’m the oldest sister. I like to take care of people. I also can’t go on an adventure with you and get myself something tasty as fuel and not give you anything.”

“We’re walking a quarter mile, Rosie. I don’t think I need fuel for that.”

“Well, I do, which means you get gifts in the form of food. Again, I’m trying to win your undying adoration.” My eyes widen and she smiles. “So is it working?” she asks expectantly. I raise an eyebrow, not sure if I didn’t hear a question or if I’m missing the point entirely.

“Is it working?”

“So do you like me yet?”

“What?”

“I told you I’m going to win you over before this whole mess is over. And then we can be neighbors who actually neighbor.”

I tip my head to the side, unable to hid the small smile on my lips. “What does neighboring even mean?”

She shrugs in the way I’m learning is so very Rosie. “I don’t know. Borrowing a cup of sugar or something?”

“Doesn’t your sister own a bakery?” She gives me a deadpan look, and I can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, but she’s all the way across town. Terribly inconvenient if I’m mid-recipe and I realize I’m running low on sugar.” I can’t help but let out a small laugh before she continues. “Plus, I know nothing about you even though you’ve been across from me for three years. It’s weird and I’m not a fan of it.”

“Of knowing nothing about me?”

“Yeah. In a town like this, you kind of know everyone. But you’re so very… mysterious. You’re not from here, so it’s not like I can ask someone who graduated above me about you, and you never go to the town meetings or the business mixers or the town fairs unless you’re setting up a booth there.” I let out a sigh and run a hand over my face. “Mysterious.”

“Yeah, I… I don’t really like… engaging much.”

“You own a store, Jack. A retail store.” Without meaning to, I smile at her, realizing I have to tip my head down a bit to do so since she’s so short. Strangely, I like it. It makes me feel… safer, somehow, to confess this to someone so much smaller than me.

Or maybe that’s just Rosie.

“That’s not typically much of an issue. The people coming into my store are typically nerds, as you love to point out—”

“I would never—” she starts with a smile.