Page 18 of Spellbinding Spirit

“So,” she says, propping herself up on one elbow. “What do we do now?”

I hesitate, rubbing the back of my neck. “You’re the professor. Aren’t you supposed to have all the answers?”

She rolls her eyes but there’s a softness in her expression that wasn’t there before. “I’m serious, Sebastian. Last night was... unexpected. And great. But where does this leave us?”

I think about it for a moment and choose my words carefully. “I care about you, Cat. Always have. Last night... it wasn’t justgreat. It was amazing. But I don’t want to mess this up. You’re my best friend and I don’t want to lose that.”

Her gaze softens and she reaches out to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. “You’re not going to lose me. But maybe we can... take things as they come? See where this goes without putting a label on it?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You mean friends with benefits?”

Her laugh is soft, warm, and it causes butterflies in my stomach. Aren’t I too old for butterflies?

“If that’s what you want to call it,” she says.

I pull her a little closer. “I can live with that,” I mumble but there’s no conviction to my words because I already know that I want more. The question is whether she does too.

Chapter 9

Catherine

The drive to thestation is quieter than expected. Sebastian usually fills silences with jokes or chatter but today he’s uncharacteristically quiet. I watch the familiar countryside slip past the window in golden light of the early morning which gives everything a soft, hazy glow. I know I should say something but words sit heavy in my chest.

“Got everything?” he asks suddenly, his voice breaking through the silence.

I glance at him, his eyes fixed on the road. “Yeah,” I reply and force a small smile. “Just a bag full of equipment and a head overflowing with questions.”

He chuckles but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sounds about right.”

I turn back to the window and fiddle with the strap of my bag. This isn’t the goodbye I’d imagined. I thought it would feel easier and we would slip into the rhythm of our usual banter. But after last night nothing feels like before.

When we reach the station Sebastian parks and turns off the engine but neither of us moves. The train is already there and the platform is buzzing with tourists. I take a deep breath and force myself to break the silence.

“Well,” I say, unclipping my seatbelt. “Here we are.”

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice quieter now. “Here we are.”

We step out of the car and he grabs my suitcase from the boot before I can even reach for it. He wheels it to the platform, his pace steady but slower than usual like he’s dragging his feet. I walk beside him with my hands shoved in my pockets as I try to think of something—anything—to make this less awkward.

When we reach the platform I take the handle of my suitcase from him and our fingers brush briefly. The contact sends a little jolt through me but I quickly shake it off.

“Thanks,” I say, my voice feeling too loud in the quiet between us. “For everything. Letting me crash at yours, the attic... all of it.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

The words hit me harder than they should. I look up at his face, which is shadowed by the low morning light and feel that familiar ache in my chest, the one that’s been there since the first time we crossed the line between friends and something more. The line we’ve pretended doesn’t exist for the past ten years.

“Same,” I say softly.

We stand there for a moment with the train hissing softly behind us. The weight of the weekend and of everything that’s happened presses down on me and I want to say something to lighten the mood. But my mouth feels dry and my mind is blank.

“Well,” I say, glancing at the train. “I’d better—”

Before I can finish Sebastian steps forward and kisses me.

It's a different kind of kiss. Not hesitant like the ones in his flat or intense like last night. This kiss is trying to say so much without words. It feels like a final goodbye, but it won't be. I'll be back in a few months, or he'll come down. It's not the firsttime we've said goodbye, but something shifted last night. And for some reason, neither of us seems ready to move on from it.

The whistle of the train conductor blares and snaps me back to reality but I don’t pull away and neither does he. It’s like we’re caught in a moment outside of time, where everything we’ve never said is spilling out in the way his lips press against mine.

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