Page 14 of Practically Witches

Piper and Circe walk over from the other car—they rode in Finnick’s SUV—and they head to the back of Zane’s Jeep and pull the gate open. There’s a cooler back there and the girls pass out beers.

Aimee holds up her hand and doesn’t take one. “No thanks.”

I look at Circe and shake my head. “I prefer vodka.”

Circe smiles. “A party girl.” And high fives me like we’re frat boys.

“Vodka makes me gassy.” Finnick smiles and slings his arm around Isador. “You don’t mind, do you, babe?”

Babe? Ugh.

But then I imagine Zane looking at me the way Finnick is looking at her, smiling, calling mebabe,and I like it. Too much.

It all hits me quick. I’m at the beach with Zane and, at nineteen, I’ve never been on a real date. My breath comes in a short, sharp huff. Holy shit. I’m on a date. It counts eventhough there are other people here. He specifically asked me to come. That makes it a date.

Zane and Dylan return, arms loaded with sticks and small logs. They arrange them in a spot where the sand is dark and mixed with ash, and there are the skeletons of old logs in the space.

When the fire is lit—they use lighter fluid and an old Bic—Zane sits a few feet from the fire on a blanket in the sand and smiles as he gazes at me then pats the spot next to him. I look at Aimee and see she’s shifting from one foot to the other. She’s uncomfortable, and as a result, acting awkward. Not talking. Not smiling. Quiet with jerky movements.

I slide my arm through hers and pull her with me to the blanket. I sit beside Zane and she sits beside me. She’s not talking to anyone or enjoying any part of this. The thing about Aimee is that she probablycan’tenjoy herself right now. She’s too worried about Mom finding out and punishing her.

It would be the sisterly thing to go home with her, but just as I think that, Zane smiles at me and he shifts and leans on his palm behind me.

“Do you want a drink? There might be sodas in the cooler.” When I shake my head, I get a big whiff of his cologne. It has a hint of citrus, maybe sandalwood, too. I want to breathe deeper, but I’m afraid someone will notice. But then he leans in closer. “Do you surf, RJ?”

Dammit. Now I’m picturing Zane in a wetsuit. “I’m more of a swimmer.”

“I could teach you.” His voice is husky and I want nothing more than to surf with him. Now that he’s mentioned it, my mind plays the idea over and over in my head. Us together on a single board with his hands on myhips, my skin tan, hair kissed by the sun, golden where it’s usually brown.

“Okay.” It’s not a definitive plan, not asee you on Tuesday after classeskind of thing. But the idea of it is enough to make my body sing.

Beside me, Aimee chuffs and even though I’m thinking about him while I’m looking at the fire in front of me and I can’t see her face, I can feel her eyeroll. I have to ignore her.

She’s ready to go. I’m ready to give in after the second exasperated sigh, but then Dylan sits beside Aimee and starts talking to her. I don’t listen to more than the first couple sentences. They’re talking about one of the classes they have together and she doesn’t sound so exasperated now.

“I’m glad you came with us.”

The words are warm and rich and make my stomach flutter. “Me, too.”

“I’ve wanted to get to know you for a while.” He doesn’t touch me more than to nudge me with his shoulder, and I giggle. I’m not normally a giggler, not someone who even likes people who giggle, but it’s the sound of happiness.

“Yeah?” It’s not an eloquent response, or one that’s calculated. It’s genuine, though. Probably more curious than is cool to be. Mostly because I have no idea how to respond. The situation doesn’t require sarcasm, my go-to conversational skill, and heaven forbid I giggle again, so this is all I have in the moment.

“I’ve seen you around. You’re always confident.”

If he means it looks like I don’t mind walking the hall alone, he’s right. I don’t like having to force conversation, and small talk isn’t my forte. I don’t want to answer in such a way that he figures out I’m an actress, sosusceptible to insecurity that I choose not to have friends outside of Aimee.

“I like my own company.” I smile. It’s not a lie. I like spending time with myself more than I like spending time with most anyone else. Present company excluded.

“So do I.” When he grins, it’s everything.

Heat flushes my skin and I stare at him, willing him to lean in. He doesn’t. Instead he looks back to the fire.

I am dying to be witty and sparkling, to have something intriguing to say, but I can’t think of anything. I’m literally—and this kind of thing never happens to me—speechless. But Aimee and Dylan are chatting it up. She laughs. He chuckles.

I’m not trying to listen, but I just need something to talk about. “Do you know her?” Aimee asks him softly.

“Not very well. She’s more Zane’s friend.” And now I’m tuned in. “They went out a couple times.”

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