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I was beyond disappointed when she advised I needed at minimum five years of study, before beginning to write spells. She read my reaction and drilled home that my gift is special. That it’s dangerous to simply tap into it, to wield what could be a dangerous weapon without training.
More waiting didn’t sound like my jam whatsoever, and I initially had a little internal tantrum about it, but told myself to try to be more patient. She warned my lack of fortitude in that arena could be my downfall if I wasn’t careful.
Pondering all this while being wowed at my invisibility, I heard male voices.
Excitement kicked my heart rate up as I reminded myself we were actually invisible. I held my breath as rustling indicated the voices were moving closer. The clouds parted and the sun shone down on three men walking in our direction. Three absolutely delicious shirtless, shoeless male specimens of rugged good looks wearing a light sheen of sweat on all their muscled bodies.
My belly dipped as my eyes locked on one of them and I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He was on the right and he was laughing. He had sexy cheek dents, beautiful green eyes, and dark, slightly curly hair. The sound of his laughter blended with the light in his eyes made my belly swoop. For some reason, my hands started to tremble.
I didn’t know why my hands shook, whether it was the way he looked or if it was about the fact that we were invisible.
Were we? Were we really? I couldn’t help myself. I threw a magnolia blossom and it hit him on the shoulder before I held my breath.
He looked right through me as his eyes scanned the space and then he resumed talking to the other guys with him. The one in the middle had dirty-blond hair, light brown eyes, and tattoos. The other was extra-tall, dark-haired and had piercing peacock blue eyes. I’d put them all in their mid-twenties.
“I say we build it here,” the guy I had my eye on said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket. “Me and Mase worked on this last night. Picture it up there.” He pointed to the tree we were under.
The other two guys huddled with him and examined the piece of paper.
“Why here?” The tattooed one asked.
“Climb this tree and you’ll see why I picked this spot,” the guy holding the paper mused. “Good vantage point of our village in one direction, The Hollow the other way. This tree is the biggest of its kind around here, so it’ll give us a bird’s eye view and the flowers’ll help shield the platform from view.”
“Could build a shelter with one of those shed kits?” The tallest, dark-haired guy suggested. “Save ourselves some time.”
My guy scratched his jaw thoughtfully, “Can build it from scratch just as easily. And it’ll be better.”
“Riley!” a shout came from a distance. The three heads swung that way, as did mine.
“Yeah?” my guy answered.
“Grey’s old man says since this tree contains a shitload of magic, it’s a bad idea.”
Riley shimmered. Sun glinted, sending a prism of beautiful light off his smile with a ping I was sure only I could hear. The world stood still for two beats where his name echoed in my heart.
Riley.
I then saw who the smile was aimed at. Another gorgeous guy with light brown hair and dark eyes. He carried a gym bag, which he tossed to the ground kind of close to where we were. He wasn’t dressed for a day at the beach like the rest of them; he was in jeans, a t-shirt, and work boots.
I held my breath, thinking we were in danger of having our invisible bubble breached, but Aunt Lyrica whispered something that I didn’t catch and then I felt a little whoosh in my ears. It was as if air sucked us backward a few feet.
I gasped, but nobody looked my way. And now the tree we’d been under was in front of us and though pink mist now hung in mid-air in front of us where we’d been, it dissipated.
The four men talked about the thing they wanted to build in the tree, and I didn’t make out much because I was mesmerized by the one called Riley who then climbed the magnolia tree and talked from a big trunk-sized branch that he stood on.
It was as if a spotlight was on him while I took in his body language, examined the way his lips moved. He oozed charisma; it was addictive to watch. The four friends were clearly very close. The late arriver opened the backpack, pulled out beers, and passed them to everyone, tossing one up to Riley. They continued to shoot the breeze, talking about finding another tree to build their security tree house so they could use it to see what was happening all around the area. I wasn’t even fully aware of the contents of their conversation because not only was it tool and building supply talk, mostly because I was so fascinated with watching Riley move, watching how his throat bobbed while he drank his beer, and thinking on the fact that my great aunt had cast a spell, an actual spell that allowed us to watch these men while unseen.
