Page 38 of Under Locke & Key
“Yeah, we went into college with a single goal in mind—one that was harebrained and not something we should have planned whole degrees around but here we are. Bryce was going to get the business degree, I would get the marketing degree, and together we’d open a hobby shop.”
“What kind of hobbies?” Farren asks Logan and I could kiss her in gratitude.
“Magic.” Logan and Gabrielle’s lips twitch with their suppressed mirth.
“Like MAGIC: The Gathering?” Farren asks and the two finally let their laughs free. Bryce chuckles softly beside me and I find myself relaxing at the sound.
“No, that would certainly have been easier, more popular, and far more lucrative.” Logan takes a bite of his noodle dish.
“Wait, so, actual magic?” I ask Bryce and his large hand comes up to cover his eyes, a groan escaping him.
“Yes. Actual magic.”
“That’s so fun!” I can’t help the tone of my voice. It's part excitement and part just thinking this is the cutest damn thing I’ve heard.
Bryce peeks out at me between his fingers as if he’s surprised at my reaction and I can only imagine what an interest in magic would have been like as a teenaged boy. Somehow I doubt vapid young people would have thought it was very cool.
“I used to be really into collecting old items, especially art and photographs. For a long time I thought I’d become a restorer but there’s not a lot of money in the arts, and computers seemed to be the ship everyone was boarding, so I went along with it. Also didn’t help that my mom was getting sick of all my ‘creepy old crap’ lying around and running me out to markets and thrift stores on weekends. I’ll tell you what though, twelve-year-olds who like antiquing aren’t the height of cool.” I’m breathless by the time I’m done speaking.
By the end of my uncharacteristic sharing Bryce’s hand has dropped from his face and his mouth is curving up at the image of pre-teen me shouldering old ladies out of the way at antique flea markets.
“So, it’s no wonder you’re constantly enamored with Historic Dulaney and that apartment of yours. Even though every stair creaks and the water heater works at the speed of a Model-T. I kind of feel bad now that I didn’t take you to one of the properties I was looking at. It was a Brownstone that had been in the same family for over a hundred years,” Bryce says.
Something in my expression must betray my hidden disappointment at missing out and fright at being pegged so solidly. I love my new apartment and the floors that countless generations have walked. I love wandering Main Street and its offshoots to stare at the buildings that have seen more life than I ever will.
This isn’t something I’ve thought about in over a decade. I put it away, tucked into its own box to gather dust in the dead end hallways of my memories. Saved and cataloged right along with people I encountered in that season of my life and the faces I kept searching for in antique tins of photographs that I knew would be impossible to pinpoint—the ones that echoed my own.
How much of Mom discouraging my hobby was because she was fed up with it and how much was her recognizing a yearning and hunger she didn’t know how to fill?
“Miss Metropolitan has a soft spot for lost, forgotten things. I never would have seen it coming, your vibe is very . . .” Ángel pokes fun, lighthearted of course, but it’s enough to make me bristle.
“Modern,” Sebastian finishes the sentence and the two nod at each other.
“It’s been a long time.” There’s nothing else I can say when I’m being tossed into the sea of unresolved feelings I thought I’d left behind along with my childish longing and unpopular hobby.
“I think it’s great and if you’re interested, I know of a really awesome antique mall up near the state line on the way to Gettysburg,” Bryce says quietly, only for me, and he bumps his shoulder against mine in camaraderie.
His arm is warm against mine, and even closer than it was before. It would be simple enough for me to drop my hand from my lap to tangle with his where it dangles between us. But that would be seeking comfort where I shouldn’t.
Although the reasons against that are growing weaker as my attraction and admiration for him build.
How many more slips, how many innocent touches until I embarrass us both?
Dinner wraps up soon after and I’m a little more withdrawn as I say goodbye to my friends. Ángel pulls me into a tight hug and apologizes for picking at a scab he had no idea existed and I assure him we’re good. Maybe it’s better having someone else know, getting it off my shoulders with my safe person. Maybe it’s healthier that way?
“Tonight has just been a lot. I’m trying to make this work and bringing so many pieces of my life together in one night has taken it out of me.”
“Speaking of—have you told your family about the move and the job yet?”
“Not yet.”
His bleached brow rises and his mouth puckers as he tells me without words that I’m being ridiculous. “You should tell them while it’s still on your own terms. You don’t want to wait until it becomes a necessity and things get even more strained because of it.”
“Yes, Doctor Reyes.”
He ignores my eyeroll and his expression becomes cheeky. “While we’re talking about what the doctor ordered. Jump that man’s bones before I do.”
“You’re a mess. I amnotgoing to sleep with my boss. Besides, I don’t think you’re his type.”
