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“I’m a bit scared, honestly,” he said, eyes worried behind his glasses. “Charles disappeared into the bathroom with a pitcher.”
“Witch-wine is brewed in the tub, duh,” Lucy said. His face creased with concern.
“Is this safe?” he asked.
“Probably not.” She waved a cavalier hand. “But it is FUN!”
“Are you sure I’ll be able to handle it?” he asked, voice high. “I’m not a witch.”
“Do you wish you were?” she asked.
“Not really,” he said, shrugging.
“Well, you might not have magic, but you can still have fun with the witch-wine tonight!” Lucy bounced, grabbing his arms and trying to get him amped up.
“I’m thirty-one now,” he said. “I’m too old for this shit.”
“Shut up! You’re in your PRIME.”
“Am I?”
“Yes! I had witch-wine for the first time on my twenty-first, and it was my best birthday ever. So if you have it for the first time on your thirty-first, I’m sure you’ll also have the best birthday ever.” She released his arms, twirling, her stocking-clad feet gliding on the tiled floor.
Charles returned to the kitchen with a pitcher full of midnight-blue liquid. He wiggled his brows, and Lucy clapped, both excited.
Lucy went to the cabinet and pulled out the shot glasses, setting them down on the island. She then took the pitcher from Charles so he could sit down. She poured them all shots, spilling a little on the counter.
“Don’t worry,” Charles said, lifting his with glee. “We’ve got a whole tub full!”
Grayson’s eyes were wide. “If this is wine, why are we taking shots?” he asked, voice going high again. He looked scared as Lucy downed her first shot. She squealed as it lit through her like a bolt of electricity, and she jumped up and down, dancing.
“Because witch-wine sounds better than witch-liquor! Haven’t you ever heard of alliteration? And you call yourself an English professor. For shame. SHAME.”
She slid a shot his way, and he lifted it up, brows furrowed. With a deep breath, he downed it, promptly choking. His eyes watered, and she cackled, clapping her hands.
“The fuck was that?” he cried.
“Another, another! Charles! Keep up!”
With a scoff, Charles downed three shots in a row, and she poured more, taking one after the other, already buzzing.
It wasn’t like regular alcohol; this was magical alcohol, which meant it would heighten all their best emotions without any of the bad ones, and the hangover wasn’t nearly as bad.
Grayson took another shot, squeezing his eyes shut. Lucy laughed and turned up some music on her phone. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him to his feet, swaying to the quick beat of the music. Charles joined in, and the three of them danced, laughing, having fun.
She felt like she was floating, her heart a balloon that would lift her high into the sky. Everything was colorful and joyous, the best kind of wonderful. She looked at Grayson, wanting to run her hands all over him, to touch every inch of his skin.
As if he sensed her thoughts, his eyes heated. She danced closer to him until their bodies were a breath apart. All it would take was a little nudge forward and she could press her lips to his, kiss him hard.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, his chest heaving as he breathed.
Lucy swayed, movements slowing. He stepped toward her, bridging the space between them until he was a hair’s breadth away from her lips.
Her heart pounded with sudden fear, and she collected herself, trying to stay steady.
“We can’t,” she whispered, taking a step back. “We’re friends now, right?”
She didn’t want things to fall to ruin the way they had the last time they’d kissed.
