Page 93 of Zero Happily Ever Afters

“What? No.” Carter coughed up the drink he’d taken. “No to the bucket list. Not no to the liking you. I do like you. A lot. Obviously, we’re friends, right? But I also like you in an unfriendly way, too. No, I mean, in a non-friend way. In an ‘I think about kissing you all the time’ kind of way.” Carter’s entire face burned bright red, his cheeks so flushed it’d take hours for the color to fade.

Jennifer giggled, actually fucking giggled, at the sight. It always made her smile, seeing and feeling Carter’s awkward confusion since he usually strutted through life carefree and confident. Yes, Jennifer felt the waves of panic he struggled with, and she was always there to offer support. But those feelings were different from shy embarrassment. And she’d know the subtle differences in every emotion as the expert empath.

“I also like you in an unfriendly way.” Jennifer blushed. “Your annoying kissable face and all.”

“Good, good.” Carter sighed. “I guess I was overthinking it. ‘Cause our first kiss was…”

“Hot?” Jennifer rocked her head from side to side. “You know, ‘cause of the fiery death explosions going off everywhere.”

Carter’s face stretched into a thin smile, biting back a snicker.

“Too soon?” Jennifer batted her eyes.

“Yeah, no, um…I don’t know. It was momentous, though.” Carter held onto the word, momentous, having heard it a dozen times over when seeking advice on his kiss. “How do you go about following that up? If I wanna hold your hand, I’ll have to fight a warlock first. If I wanna make out with you, I’ll have to banish a demon.”

“Awww.” Jennifer sipped her drink from the straw. “You’d banish a demon just to make out with me?”

“I’d do anything for you.” Carter clammed up.

His mind whirled with flashes of a conversation he’d had with Gael and Jamius about the topic, when the two boys who were self-proclaimed experts in the field of romance declared Carter had screwed up by making his first kiss with Gothic Barbie so grand.

Everything popped too quickly to track the fragments of memories but there were lots of lude gestures from Gael as he explained… Christ, I didn’t want to know what he explained. And Jamius kept stacking duplicates in some cheerleading pyramid style which I could only assume was a Jenga analogy on romance that resulted in forty collapsing clones who ended up fighting in Carter’s backyard.

“I don’t know.” Jennifer shrugged. “This is a pretty lowkey first date. I think it balances things out to normal.”

“Date?” Carter buried his memories. “Right. This is a date. A casual date.”

“Are you calling me casual, Preppy Prince?”

“Never, my Emo Queen.” Carter leapt out of the booth and took a dramatic bow, dropping to one knee for the added flair.

It made Jennifer snort and laugh and let out this unhinged, wheezing giggle fit of delight. I’d never seen her so ridiculously happy. She looked as bizarre as me with a smile.

As they slipped into comfortable conversation that overlapped with their feelings, their hopes, their thoughts, I silently observed until my telepathy waned, and I was able to unwind for the night.

Tara used her telekinesis to decorate the pool enclosure. She wore a flower-patterned bikini top with a skirt bottom thatreached her knees and had an open slit going up to her hip, which revealed a bit of a tattoo on her thigh. I scoffed, knowing that was definitely Gael’s influence, and found myself almost drawn back to my other half, where another part of me actively battled against the kitchen stove in some futile effort to prove I could cook dinner.

Tara ignored her nerves, her thoughts about Theodore’s escape, the whispers she’d heard everywhere she went. Not that she went to many places with Chicago on high alert and the academy closed. This party was a selfish distraction. It made her wonder if her father threw similar events to avoid his own anxiety over family drama.

At first, a small pool party seemed like an impossible feat. Who would want to go to a Whitlock party? After Theodore had once again caused so much destruction? Despite Tara’s nerves, Gael assured her he had everything under control. Now, she found herself setting up for a gathering three times her initial estimates. How he managed, she’d never know, but she was grateful to always have Gael at her side.

While I shouldn’t be excited for a bunch of seventeen-year-olds gathered together to drink and smoke and screw around while next to a dangerous body of water without adult supervision, I was admittedly a bit excited to see them all interact together.

I missed the talkative energy they brought into the classroom. I missed the curiosity in their surface thoughts. I even missed the ridiculously asinine questions some students would ask.

“So, are you just gonna be here lurking all night watching teen hotties strutting around in their half-naked bodies?”

Case in point.

Gael stared at the security guard posted at the door of the pool party. This wasn’t the security at Milo’s building, not thatthose attendants were lacking in skill, but this guard had biceps bigger than Gael’s head. He had six visible knives strapped to his person and three guns and enough hidden pockets in his Kevlar jacket to probably hide a dozen others. Even his thoughts were difficult to read with the number of enchantment sigils and ward symbols tattooed on his skin.

Whitlock Estates was actually one of the most secure places in the entire city since Tara’s father had hired private security after Theodore’s escape. Muddled minds of several dozen elite witches buzzed at full attention as they patrolled the grounds. Seriously, half of them were fully armed with gear and gadgets and an arsenal of destructive weaponry and magic like the one Gael currently squinted at. These witches were former marines, navy seals, or ex-operatives of all kinds from across the world. Whitlock Industries spared no expense when buying a private army.

Tara folded her arms. “He’ll be joining the rest of the little unit surveying the grounds outside.”

“But your father said—”

“My father is out of the country and has left me in charge of the estate.” Tara’s expression shifted, almost stern, like she was channeling her inner Whitlock authority. “Besides, if a threat really managed to get all the way inside, past the thirty-some-odd magical military boys swinging theirgunsaround, do you think you’ll make a difference?”

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