Page 29 of Hexes and Exes

Ava’s mouth is pressed tightly together. She shoves her glasses up on her head and her eyes are red rimmed. Has she been crying?

“Fine. But I’m driving.”

15

AVA

Bram shifts in his seat and grunts for the fourth time since we got in my car.

“I didn’t realize you were so particular. Do you need a special pillow to sit on? I could probably order one of those beaded car seats for you. Do they still sell those?”

“If your car wasn’t the size of a postage stamp, I wouldn’t have a problem.”

In all fairness, my car is small. Bram has the seat all the way back and his knees are still pressed against the glove box. Stellan refuses to ride in my car. I knew Bram would be uncomfortable, but I couldn’t resist.

“I suppose your car is large and manly, and not at all a symbol of your masculinity.”

“No, it’s normal sized and not made for clowns.”

The visual of all my friends piling out of my car like a circus act, with Bram having to unfold himself as the last to exit, brings a smile to my face. “Are you calling me a clown?”

“No, but your car is small enough to fit inside a larger car.”

“I’m all about economy and reducing my global footprint.” I flip my hair, or I would if it wasn’t stuck inside my coat.

“This car was built before you were born. I highly doubt that.” Bram shifts and his elbow rams into my boob.

“Ow. How the hell are you so massive that you can’t contain yourself to one side of the car.”

“I am massive.” He gives me a look, and I roll my eyes.

His aura when I walked into Morty’s this morning was a dingy brown and the shadows were almost calm, but still somehow heavy. They’ve retreated to the edges of his aura, which has turned a pinkish-yellow color.

He’s so confusing.

Fitz’s house is just outside of the city limits. We’ll be lucky if we make it in ten minutes. She’s probably going to yell at us, maybe even throw a hex our way for being late. She’s unpredictable like that. The radio is playing the song of summer from a few years ago. I think we’re just going to quietly mind our own business until we get to Fitz’s, when Bram opens his mouth again.

“Have you been crying?”

“What? No,” I deny.

It’s a lie. I spent half the night crying because I felt like shit. Jamie popped up out of nowhere to grace me with his attention once again. Bram declared that our kiss was a mistake. It had me thinking that I’m not even worthy of Jamie’s attention and definitely not Bram’s. I’m just some sad schlub and maybe I should be grateful that Jamie still remembers me.

“Your eyes are all red.”

“I’m hungover.”

Bram pauses and then lobs a hit from out in left field. “What’s your curse?”

I jerk my head to look at him, and the car swerves so hard I nearly drive us off the road.

“Shit,” I hiss, my heart in my throat. I straighten the wheel and prevent us from dying in a ball of flames. “That’s a little personal,” I huff out once I’m assured we aren’t going to fly off the road again.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

I sneak another look at Bram. What’s he playing at? Are we friends? I like the idea of being friends with him. Even if he’s kind of a dick. It’s okay when it’s pointed at other people though. It’s actually kind of nice when used in defense of me.

“Um, okay. Sure, friends.”

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