Page 38 of Meet Cute Magic

“Slowly, yeah. I mean, it’s hard not to believe when I’ve seen the evidence live and in person so many times now. Though I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the idea that vampires exist. Or dragons. Did you say there were some behind us?” I nod, and his face lights up.

“Are they—” he starts. Percy meows again.

“Percy, stop it! You’re ruining the good night kiss!” I hear Phillip stage-whisper through the door, and I roll my eyes, feeling my cheeks burning and hoping Jack didn’t hear that too.

“I gotta get in to him. But anytime you want to pick my brain on magic or dragons or supernaturals, come on over.”

“That would be… cool. I have a lot of questions.”

“I’m happy to answer them,” I say. There’s an awkward moment as I try and decide what to do. If he were anyone else, I’d give him a quick, friendly hug, but this is… Jack. He decides for us when he extends his hand out for me to shake.

“See you later, Rosie.” I shift my gaze from Jack’s hand to his face and back again a half dozen times before I shake my head and let out another laugh that fills the space around us and makes those golden strands over his skin dance. Then I ignore the hand altogether and step closer, wrapping my arms around his neck and giving him a hug.

We’re friends, after all. Right?

Friends hug.

He stands awkwardly for a moment, his hands lifted up on either side of me as he tries to decide what to do before whatever pull the bond has takes hold and his body eases, hands resting on the small of my back and hugging me back. We stand like that for a few moments, a bit longer than a quick thank you or goodbye hold before I step back, a wide smile on my lips.

“Later, Jack Attack,” I say, and that seems to break him out of his daze, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at me, though he smiles as he does.

“It’s just Jack,” he says, but somehow, it’s missing the normal fire the words hold. Before I can look or think too far into that, he’s turning on his heel, headed toward the Gaming Den, and I turn to my door, all the while vehemently resisting the urge to turn around and look at him again.

CHAPTER 13

Jack

35 days until Halloween

I manage to avoid Rosie for three days, but on Thursday, I find myself shooting glances at her store all morning, watching the golden strands slide underneath my front door, across the cobblestone road, and under her door.

The kiss bond has been much more of a mind fuck than anticipated, giving me the overwhelming urge to cross the street every single day and see her. Talk to her. Touch her, the voice in my head says, but I ignore him the fiercest, pushing him back into the box that I’ve very carefully kept him in since I last saw Rosie.

Today is the first really cold day of the season, summer officially gone, and a dreary, rainy, cold fall day in its place. Because of this, the town is pretty quiet, and my shop is even quieter. I filled a handful of online orders that needed to be completed today before Jefferson, the mailman, arrived. After, I did some general cleaning and inventory management, but now I have nothing else to distract me from the store across the way, which has a closed sign flipped to face the street.

It’s a slow day, but she doesn’t typically close just because it’s slow. Not that I’ve been taking notes. Since her car is parked behind her place and all of the lights are on, I’m pretty sure she’s home. Without much else to keep it occupied, my mind starts moving. Maybe she’s sick. Maybe she’s hurt. Maybe a spell went wrong. Maybe she needs someone, something. Maybe she needs me.

My mind continues to spiral, and I decide that the only way to make it so I can actually focus on anything today is to go over and check on her, make sure she’s okay. The gold tingles across my skin with a mind of its own, aligning with the sentiment and nearly jumping with excitement at the prospect of seeing Rosie. I sigh, then put the hood of my sweatshirt up before moving out my front door and rushing (to avoid the rain, of course) across the street until I’m in front of her place, the overhang stopping the freezing cold rain from hitting me.

Instead of barging in, though, I stand there, contemplating what the fuck I’m doing. With the increased proximity, the gold strings are now tugging at me, their source somewhere in my chest, but I force logic to win out. If I just barge in there and there’s nothing wrong, Rosie is never going to let me live it down, even if I explain that it’s a symptom of the stupid bond she placed on me, even if I go into detail about how I was worried, even if—

A loud, annoyed groan comes through the door, and with it, concern floods me. I twist the doorknob of her shop, pushing it open. I remember her saying she rarely locks the doors, something I find insane, but in this moment, I’m a bit grateful for.

“What the fuck!” her exasperated voice calls from what I think is her backroom. That’s when a wave of cold hits me, not colder than outside, but surprisingly chilly nonetheless. Definitely not her normal warm, welcoming store. I look around, trying to figure out where it’s coming from as I move by instinct toward where I’m assuming Rosie is.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” my grandfather’s ghost says, floating through the wall and shocking me. I think I’m taking all of this pretty well, but I don’t think I will ever be used to my dead grandfather floating through a wall. I haven’t been in the shop since the bond snapped into place, but now I can see her pink glittering magic around the place, and I am dying to know what each trace of it is for. Cleaning? Organizing? The building of a bookshelf? In the days since the bond, I’ve determined that Vi’s magic is lavender and Poppy’s is a mint green. I was also stunned to see a rainbow of other colors throughout town, reminding me that Rosie said Heartwood Hollow has more than just the magical sisters living here.

But I don’t have time for that, not when Rosie is clearly in distress.

“What’s going on?” I ask as I move through the bookstore, winding around shelves.

“Her heater died. She’s in the back room.” I slowly start making my way to where the heating unit is, following the sounds of groans and whimpers and the tug of the bond. Grandpa floats along with me with a smug look on his face that I can’t focus on much, not with the pull of Rosie being so close.

“The heater?”

“Yes, looks pretty old, but not much older than mine, which you knew how to fix.” Before my grandfather moved in with my parents, I came to his house often to do minor handyman repair work, not wanting him to get overcharged by some asshole who saw an old man and took advantage of him. Not because I felt bad for my grandfather, but because if he realized, he would cause a scene, getting into a full-blown argument with whatever asshole tried to take him down, and I’d typically get called in to handle it anyway.

Since I had to work on his heater more than a few times, I’m well aware of just how finicky they can be. Finally, I open the door to her back room, where boxes are littered everywhere and piled high, and shelves are filled with overstocked books. I let out a quiet sigh of relief that I refuse to examine too closely when I catch Rosie on the ground, her head in her hands, a small pink toolbox before her.