Page 45 of The Neighborhood Witch

Alice smiled. “Thank you.”

They leaned closer to each other, their shoulders touching. His fingertips glided over her exposed forearm. He wrapped them around her wrist, but didn’t squeeze. His thumb massaged the back of her hand. She closed her eyes. The hairs stood at attention with his every stroke. Shivers shot up her arm. She curled her toes as goosebumps magically appeared.

Alice couldn’t decipher what invisible words Hugo was drawing on the back of her hand. Words in a dark language that she couldn’t read, but which her body would fully understand. She bit her lower lip. Her breathing paused. A smolder built inside her.

Alice turned her head toward Hugo. Their eyes locked. An unseen force pulled her closer to him. Her heart raced. The smolder spread across her being. Hugo leaned toward her. They touched; his forehead against hers. The inner smolder now raged out of control. Emotions set ablaze with desire. His breath danced across her lips. Each exhale torturously teased her. She wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her. She closed her eyes again, waiting for him to make the move.

The waiting was excruciating.

It was exquisite.

“How much have we drank?” Hugo asked.

His words pulsed through her as she shivered.

“Too much.” Her voice was soft and low.

“Then why aren’t I feeling it?”

The grandfather clock chimed once. Hugo pulled away. A wave of disappointment doused the inner smolder. Alice’s body longed for him to touch her again. Her eyes opened and drooped with inner pain.

“It’s only nine? It was a few minutes before nine when I came over. That can’t be right. Where are the other eight chimes?”

Alice focused on the side table. The elaborate hourglass moved from where she had placed it earlier in the evening. “Hugo, did you touch this hourglass?”

“Maybe.” He paused. “Why?”

“And did you turn this ring all the way up?”

“I feel like I shouldn’t answer.”

“Oh, that’s not good.”

Hugo sat up on the couch with a distraught look on his face. “It’s never good when a witch says it’s not good.”

“How many bottles did we drink?” Alice asked, even though she already knew the answer.

Hugo counted the bottles on the table. “These three, plus that one I brought over.”

“Oh. Well.” Alice paused. She locked onto Hugo’s eyes. “Things are about to get really interesting, really fast.”

“How interesting?”

“I need you to listen to me. You need to stay perfectly still. The hourglass slowed down time. Like a lot. The opposite of what we did downstairs. We might have been moving around fine, but our bodies have not yet processed all the wine we drank tonight. I need to normalize time again, but when I do…” Her voice trailed off.

Hugo’s eyes widened. “Oh, no.”

Alice counted the bottles again. The three bottles they brought up, plus the one he brought over. “It’ll be like drinking all four bottles at once,” Alice explained.

Hugo’s face turned pale. Alice felt the fear in his eyes.

“Oh, no.” His voice lowered with dread.

“This happened to me once before. Only once. I’m going to turn the ring. I need you to be perfectly still.”

Alice picked up the hourglass. The sand sped up with each partial turn of the ring as it descended toward the middle of the pedestal. The ticking of the grandfather clock started back up. Eight more chimes followed.

“Alice, I don’t feel so good.” Hugo stood up and stumbled over the coffee table.

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