Page 25 of Goody Magic Academy: Year Three

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. I had made my choice, for better or worse. The problem was telling Finn. The very thought made my palms sweat and my breath hitch.

We walked into the living room and my heart lurched into my throat. My worst fear had come true. Finn and Kamaron were waiting for us, their presence like a punch to my gut. Kamaron’s eyes darted nervously between Finn and me, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by an uncharacteristic silence. For once, he didn’t make a dad joke, the tension in the room too thick.

The disappointment and hurt in Finn’s eyes cut me like a knife. My chest constricted, making it hard to breathe. Without a word, he turned and left the room, each step feeling like another twist of the blade in my heart.

I instinctively went to follow him, my body yearning to comfort him, to explain. But then I looked up at Jaxon, torn between two worlds, my body trembling with the weight of my decision.

The headmaster’s gaze locked with mine. “It’s time for us all to retire. Tomorrow will be a big day.” His don’t-even-think-about-sneaking-out-again tone made me wince, and I hung my head.

I briefly reached for Jaxon’s hand and then released it, my fingers trembling as they slipped away. A chill immediately raced up my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Peyton,” Jaxon murmured, his voice low and husky. “You don’t have to go.”

I shook my head, unable to meet his eyes. “Yes, I do,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

A hollow ache formed in the pit of my stomach as I crossed my arms tightly over my chest and followed Twyla back to our room, each step heavier than the last. I kept my eyes fixed on the floor, afraid that if I looked at Jaxon, my resolve would crumble,but I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, burning into my back, making the hair on my neck stand on end.

My throat constricted as I swallowed hard, dreading the tongue lashing I knew would be coming once Twyla closed the door. The taste of fear filled my mouth as we approached our room, my muscles coiling tighter with each passing second.

She pushed the door to our room open with a creak that set my teeth on edge. I brushed past her, the static electricity between us ready to shoot lightning strikes. As I entered, I swear she hissed like a snake. The tension in the room was like a gathering thunderstorm, about to bring on a downpour.

Twyla’s pupils constricted to pinpoints. “How could you do this to Finn?” Each syllable landed like acid on my skin.

I squared my shoulders, ignoring the trembling of my hands as I faced her. My heart was slamming so hard in my chest I was sure she could see it through my clothes. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” I said unsteadily.

“Well, you did.” Her voice crackled with fury. She jabbed a finger toward me hard enough to make me flinch. “It was a slap in the face for him to discover you had snuck out with Jaxon to fool around. He deserved better than to find out this way.”

I held up my hands, palms out, trying to ward off her anger. “I know,” I said, the words tumbling out. “It wasn’t a planned thing. I was nervous about tomorrow and needed some fresh air. And Jaxon just happened?—”

“Just happened?” Twyla’s voice sliced through the air, sharp as a blade. I could almost see the steam coming out of her ears and a vein throbbed visibly at her temple, her face flushing an angry crimson. “Are you daft?” she hissed, nostrils flaring. “He can’t keep his eyes?—”

Her gaze raked over me. I fought the urge to cross my arms over my chest and my heart hammered against my ribs as Twyla’s eyes narrowed, cataloging every damning detail. I wassuddenly hyper-aware of my messy braids and wrinkled clothes—of my untucked shirt clinging to my skin, still damp with sweat. Of the grass stains on my shorts, a vivid green reminder of my indiscretion.

Twyla’s lips curled as she took in each piece of evidence and she jabbed a perfectly manicured finger at me, the gesture so aggressive I flinched. “Or his hands off you,” she finished disdainfully.

The accusation hung in the air, thick and suffocating. I inhaled deeply, the scent of crushed grass and Jaxon’s lingering cologne filling my lungs. Time slowed down as I turned Twyla’s words over in my mind, examining them from every angle.

To my surprise, a warm, defiant spark ignited in my chest and spread through me, melting away the ice of shame Twyla had tried to instill in me.

I squared my shoulders and met her judgmental gaze head-on. My voice came out steady, surprising even myself. “Maybe he didn’t, Twyla.”

She blinked, clearly taken aback. Then her features rearranged themselves into a superior smirk, her chin lifting in an I-told-you-so expression that made my fingers itch to slap it off her face.

But the fire in my veins burned away the last of my uncertainty. I leaned in close enough to see the flecks of gold in Twyla’s hazel eyes, close enough for her to feel the heat of my breath as I delivered the final blow.

“And you know what? I don’t care.”

My words rang out, clear and unapologetic. Twyla’s smug expression faltered, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. I savored the moment, tasting the sweet victory on my tongue as I watched her struggle to process my words.

“What? No. Peyton, he’s going to break your heart,” she sputtered, regaining her composure.

I took a deep breath, a feeling strange and a calm settled over me. “Maybe,” I said softly. I met her gaze, unflinching. “But it’s mine to break, not yours.”

The silence that followed was deafening, thick enough to cut with a knife. Finally, Twyla stood up from her bed and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door with a thunderous bang that reverberated through my bones. The sudden silence that followed was unbearable.

I stood rooted to the spot, my eyes fixed on the bedroom door. My fingers twitched, itching to the turn the doorknob, to flee into the hallway and into Jaxon’s waiting arms. I could almost feel the phantom warmth of his embrace, so different from the chill that had settled deep in my core.

Then reality crashed over me like a torrid rainstorm. The headmaster would be on high alert, his senses listening for any hint of impropriety between us. His piercing gaze would follow us everywhere, as seeing through walls and reading our very thoughts.

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