Page 67 of Shroom for Improvement

A Very Solicited Lecture on Soil Health

Claude

On the one hand, the storm water had annihilated one of my favourite brown suits, but on the other hand—quite literally—Sonny had touched me. Several times.

It was magical and I couldn’t get the scent of him out of my nostrils, even now, after we’d returned to our rooms, showered, and had dinner.

I was pretty sure my crush on him was reaching dangerous levels, but I didn’t have the slightest fraction of an idea how to stop it. It seemed the more time I spent with the guy, the more I questioned everything I understood about being a reclusive, misanthropic, loner shroom fae.

A teacup now sat on my coffee table, with a bunch of dry tea leaves in a neat little heap inside. Tomorrow we weregoing to do some indoor practice. I agreed, primarily because I didn’t fancy getting soaked again and ruining another suit. Sonny suggested alternating the days between the ley lines and my room with the teacup.

I’d never made a secret of my dearth in glamour, but I’d always assumed admitting not knowing even the cup trick would be awful. Akin to confessing I didn’t know how to ride a bike, or swim. These were basic skills every fae should be able to do before their one hundredth birthday—should be able to do without thinking. It should have been embarrassing, but I felt relief when I told him. Like ripping off a plaster. Painful at first, but airing the wound to let it heal.

That was all Sonny’s doing. My instinct was to be enraged by the suggestion of learning child’s magic, to run in the other direction, but with Sonny next to me, nothing felt impossible. He had this calming energy about him. Like his bedtime allotment talks, there was something about the guy that soothed me. Soothed my nerves, my embarrassment, my soul.

I hadn’t realised how much stress and tension I’d accumulated worrying that the ritual would be something requiring glamour.

Now that Sonny had promised to hold my hand through the lessons—again, literally—I felt... okay. I felt okay. Like I could get through it. Like it might be a slog, because I hadn’t known of any other fae who’d had to learn teacup magic in adulthood, but Sonny would be there. He would be helping. And he didn’t scoff, or make fun of me, or try to pull my pants down in front of my entire grade-three class.

“I don’t know how to drive,” Sonny said, making me startle. I turned around and realised he’d been watching me stare at the teacup. “I have about eighteen bachelor’s degrees, and I’ve never learned to drive. It scares me. The thought of the road and being in control of a machine that has the potentialto take someone’s life. I’ve never fired a gun either. Even on a range. And I never want to. What I’m trying to say is, it doesn’t make you less of a person because you don’t know how to do something a lot of other people take for granted.” He absently tugged at the hem of his sleep tee. A once black but faded to grey thing with a worn screen print of a poop emoji and the text,Shiitake Happens.

Gods, he was adorable.

Was I too old for him? There was a one hundred and forty-four-ish year age gap between us. Maybe I was too out of shape. He was so tall, and lean, with that youthful, superfast metabolism. My hand found my tummy over my PJs. Sonny’s eyes tracked the movement. Maybe I was just not... cool enough for him. He worked at a uni. I bet he was having frequent encounters—sexual ones—with the other cool young people he worked with.

Shit, I was staring at him now, and spacing out. I shook my head at the thought.

Sonny must have mistaken my internal crisis for one related to magic lessons. “It’ll take as long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve already spoken to the dean, and she’s agreed I can host my lectures remotely via video cam, and my colleague, Mash, will take on most of my seminars—”

“Won’t you be needed in Remy for your students?”

“Not especially. My students aren’t learning anything new. They’re second years, mostly putting together proposals for their research projects. But they have months to finalise those yet. Besides, they have my number if they need me.”

Wow, now I was jealous of his students as well.

“So, aside from the looming solstice, there are no deadlines nipping at your heels. We’ll figure this out together.”

I had to turn away from him, because I was having more reactions. This time, behind my eyes, and a weird lump hadformed in my throat. “Thanks,” I said, attempting to insert as much nonchalance into my tone as possible. “I appreciate it.”

“Let’s start tomorrow. After breakfast.”

“Sounds good.”

“I might have to go to town, or ask Jenny for some more supplies if that’s something it can do?”

“What does he need?” Jenny asked.

“Oh, there you are. I was beginning to think you’d taken a vacation,” I said to Jenny. “It says, what do you need?”

“Clothes, mostly. Jeans, shorts, underpants, pyjama bottoms. I only have these train ones you gave me”—he tugged at the fabric around his thighs—“and I really ought to wash them.”

With that, two, three, four neat stacks of laundered clothes shuffled into piles on the couch. Sonny walked over to them, plucked a pair of jeans from the top and unfurled them next to his legs. “Oh, my.” He thumbed through the rest of the clothes. “They’re all second-hand, well, except the underpants. How did it know? Thank you.”

“Because I can see his soul. Tell him he’s a dumbass,” Jenny said.

“I would never,” I replied.

Sonny frowned at me, but seemed to understand I was talking to the house, not him, because he didn’t ask questions. He took a clean pair of PJ pants—green and gold tartan—into my bathroom and emerged a few minutes later wearing them. They fit his ultra-long legs perfectly. His bare feet poked out at the bottom.

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