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I feel like I’m walking into a trap, but I dive in, anyway, hoping to entirely distract him from the reason we fell to begin with. “Um, yeah. We’ve been friends forever; how can I not?”
His eyes twinkle wickedly. “Prove it, then. What color underwear am I wearing?”
My nose scrunches. “Ew, gross.”
His eyes narrow, but it’s a playful move. “You think my underwear is gross?”
I wrestle back the goofy, lustful smile wanting to possess my face. No, Hunter, not at all. And I’d love to see you in it.
“I don’t know. Depends on the last time you washed them.”
He stares at me, unimpressed. “You think I don’t wash my underwear?”
I shrug, the movement awkward while trapped beneath him. “I’m not sure. I don’t have any brothers, but from what Peyton tells me, boys can do some pretty disgusting things when it comes to personal hygiene. At least her brothers do.”
“That’s because Peyton’s brothers are vampires. And everyone knows vampires aren’t known for being the cleanest creatures.” As he adjusts his position, his hips lightly touch mine. A total accidental move, but the contact makes my skin glitter like pixie dust.
“And everyone knows that vampires can hear almost anything!” Peyton, one of our roommates, shouts from upstairs. “You know, for a wizard who’s supposed to be the next Mystic Willow Bay Star Wizard, you really don’t seem to know very much about your own townspeople.”
I internally cringe at the mention of the title. Every decade or so, a powerful, charming wizard and witch get hand-selected by the Wizard and Witches Committee to become the Mystic Willow Bay Star Wizard and Wonder Witch, which is pretty much a fancy schmancy name for being a mascot for witches and wizards. Some people view the position as gaining celebrity status, and a lot of the townspeople nearly swoon themselves to death whenever they spot the current Star Wizard, aka Hunter’s older brother.
Hunter despises the fact that his brother let the title go to his head, but what he loathes even more is knowing that this year he has a good chance of being selected as the new Star Wizard. At least, according to the rumors fluttering around town, he does.
Hunter’s expression deflates. “I’m not going to be the next Star Wizard. Even if I am, I wouldn’t call myself that.”
“What are you going to call yourself, then? The Super Duper Star Wizard?” Peyton cackles with malicious laughter. “Face it, Hunter; you’re just as egotistical as your brother. And when you officially get chosen as this town’s next Most Vain Wizard in the World, you’ll end up just like him—with a head too big to fit through a doorway.”
Hunter’s lips curl. “Don’t be bitter just because my brother broke up with you.”
“I’m not bitter!” she snaps over a loud bang. “I don’t give a flying sprite’s ass that your stupid, egotistical brother broke up with me. What I do care about is that he treats all of his old friends like shit now that he thinks he’s Mr. Wonderful.”
Hunter’s lips part, but before he can fire a comeback, I cover his mouth with my hand.
“Let it go,” I mouth. “Or she’ll go on all day.”
While Peyton’s cool and everything, she never backs down from a fight. She can’t help it, though. Stubbornness comes with the territory of being a vampire. Just like trickery is part of being a faerie. As is moodiness with wolves. And cockiness with witches and wizards. Occasionally, these traits do skip a generation, like with Opal, our other roommate who’s a faerie.
I’ve known Opal since grade school and consider her one of my closest friends. She never pulls pranks on anyone, or tricks them with glamour.
“Got nothing to say?” Peyton singsongs. “Guess that means I’m right.”
Hunter targets me with a dirty look. I keep my hand over his mouth, urging him to be quiet.
“Your silence means I win, Super Duper Star Wizard,” Peyton continues. “And you lose.”
Hunter’s lips twitch against the palm of my hand. “Please let me put her in her place,” he mumbles.
I shake my head and hold up a finger with my other hand. “Wait for it,” I mouth.
One, two, three seconds tick by, and then …
“Whatever, Hunter. Just give up and ruin all my fun,” Peyton huffs through the thudding of stomping footsteps.
A handful of seconds later, a door bangs shut and the house grows quiet.
I lower my hand from his lips. “She likes the thrill of a fight,” I whisper. “Take that away, and she’ll stop.”
“Or we could just take her away to a faraway land and never have to deal with her ever again,” he suggests quietly with a thoughtful grin.
“She’s not bad all the time.” I keep my voice low in case Peyton is still eavesdropping. “Just in the mornings and afternoons.”
“And nights and every other hour of every other day.” He sighs audibly when I give him a stern look. “Look, I know she’s your friend, but I don’t get why she had to move in with us.”
“Because she needed a place to stay.”
“Why, though? That part was never explained to me.”
“Sorry, but I promised Peyton I wouldn’t tell.” I offer him an apologetic smile.
He grimaces. “Can’t we at least search for another place for her? Four people in a two-bedroom house is too much. And I hate sleeping on the sofa.” He juts out his lip. “It’s lumpy.”
“It’s not lumpy. It’s got character. And you used to say it was comfortable,” I tell him, pushing his jutted lip back in. “I think you’re just being pouty because you don’t want Peyton living with us.”
“Maybe. But I do miss having a bed to sleep in.”
“You can always sleep in my bed if you want.” The words leave my lips without any forethought, and I instantly want to retract them. Not because I dislike the idea of him sharing a bed with me—under the right circumstances, that’d be a dream come true—but I’m fairly sure I’d end up lying awake all night, haunted by sexual frustration. And what happens if my hands wander and do things while I am sleeping?
Before I can joke off the remark, his eyes light up.
“Seriously?” he asks. “Because that’d be awesome.”
Please, please, witches in the sky, kill me now.
I put on my best fake smile. “Yep, mi casa es su casa. Or, I guess, mi habitación es su habitación.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and smiles down at me, making those butterflies go all sorts of mad crazy. “You really are a great friend, Eva.”
Aw, the friend zone, a place I begrudgingly am forced to call my home.
My smile remains shining on the outside, but on the inside, I’m a clusterfuck of frownie faces. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see if you’re still saying that when I hog all the covers and take up three-quarters of the bed.”
“That’s perfectly okay with me,” he assures. “And it beats waking up every morning to Opal’s brownie licking my face.”
A giggle slips past my lips. “I’m pretty sure Starry isn’t going to stop doing that just because you’re sleeping in my room.”
“Yeah, it will,” he insists. “Because I’ll lock the door.”
&nb
sp; “It can pick locks.”
“Since when?”
“For as long as I’ve known it.”
My eyelashes threaten to flutter as he tucks another strand of hair behind my ear. For the love of all things magical and sparkly, if he knew what his touches did to me, he’d probably never touch me again.
“It usually doesn’t do it too often because it’s not easy, and the damn thing’s lazier than a fat cat on Thanksgiving. But I’m thinking with you, it’s going to put in an A amount of effort into getting inside the bedroom where you lay your pretty head to sleep.” Whoops! I so didn’t mean for the pretty part to slip out.
His brows knit. “Why? I mean, I know my head is super pretty and everything”—his lips quirk—“but I don’t get why that’d be motivation for the brownie to pick a lock.”
I smash my lips together, restraining a laugh. “You really don’t know, huh?”
He shakes his head, his confusion doubling.
“Because it thinks you’re sexy and wants your body.” I shimmy my hips around, doing a little dance, which I’m sure looks ridiculous since I’m still pinned to the floor.
He blasts me with an unamused look. “It does not.”
“Does, too. I even saw it checking out your butt the other day.”
“You’re such a little liar.”
I shake my head, drawing an X over my heart. “I swear, I’m not lying.”
Realization slowly kicks in. “So, what you’re saying is, for the past month, a brownie—who I’ve probably changed in front of at least a half a dozen times—has been licking my face every morning because it—”
“Wants to get in your pants,” I finish for him through a giggle.
His face scrunches up. “That’s so gross.”
“Why? I’m sure Starry’s probably pretty popular amongst the other brownies. And you’re popular with the wizards and witches. Together, you can be a total power couple.” I choke on a laugh when he glares at me.
“I’m glad you find my discomfort amusing,” he says flatly, but the sparkle in his eyes lets me know he isn’t really mad.
