Page 31 of The Trouble With Spells
Once our bellies had been filled with pizza, the events of the day had us both yawning. We’d shared the bathroom, each of us going about our nightly routine, and deciding we would worry about showering tomorrow.
I had watched Michael strip down to his black boxer briefs, biting my lip as his well defined chest and abs had been on full, delectable display. He had caught me, smirking, but hadn’t commented. Instead, he had climbed beneath the sheets of my bed–my bed!–his back against the headboard, arms crossed behind his head, and waited while I had undressed down to my briefs, and gingerly climbed in next to him.
When I had placed my glasses on the nightstand and reached out an arm to turn off the bedside lamp, he had gently caught my chin with his hand and turned me to face him. He had scooted down and lay on his side, propped up by his elbow.
Staring at him with wide eyes, my body had tensed, my breathing speeding up.
“Can you see me?” he indicated my glasses with his head.
Softly smiling, I nodded. “I’m nearsighted, so yeah, I can see you perfectly. Now if you go across the room, I’ll know it’s you, but you’ll be all fuzzy and out of focus.”
We were so close like this, barely any space between our faces, and I could feel the ghost of his warm breath whisperacross my skin. Seeing me shiver, he frowned, pulling the blankets over my shoulders.
The tiny act had been so sweet, done without thought, that I hadn’t had the heart to tell him I wasn’t cold. The exact opposite was true, in fact.
“Good night, Callum,” Michael had whispered, his eyes lingering on my lips. “Thank you for everything today.”
“For binding us together? Not my finest work.” I had teased to break up the unresolved sexual tension that hung over us like a cloud.
He had stared at me for a long time, before whispering, “Actually, yes. I think the binding part was my favorite thing that happened today.”
And with those cryptic words he had rolled over, presenting me with the long, lean line of his smooth back. Turning out the light, I had plunged the room into darkness and waited for sleep to claim me.
I was still waiting.
My mind was whirling with all the events of today, and what it all meant. Not to mention, I was tense as fuck laying next to Michael in the dark, in my bed, both of us nearly naked. My muscles were tight, nervous energy strumming through my veins.
Michael was not what I had expected. Not that I had expected him. But maybe I should have? My cards had said a new love interest would enter my life, and here he was.
Michael was smart, funny, extremely good looking, sexy as sin, and he actually seemed to like me. That last part was what was tripping me up.
On paper, we had nothing, not one thing, in common. I didn’t know all that much about Michael’s life, but I knew we ran in completely different circles. Always had. And I knew he’d never be happy settling down in Salem. The man had left faster than a speeding train after graduation, and despite being only forty or so minutes away, rarely came back to visit. From what his mom had said, even then, he didn’t stay long.
So why would he ever be interested in me? I was too skinny, and nothing exciting to look at. My family owned an occult shop, and oh yeah, we were witches. The real deal kind of witches, not the wannabe kind. We did witchy things, and owned a witchy store, and our business, which paid our bills, revolved around all things witchy. Michael wasn’t a believer, or at least he hadn’t been. By his own admission, he barely even knew the town's history, beyond the basic knowledge of the famous witch trials.
Had I somehow fucked up and placed an accidental love spell on him? Was that why he was interested in me? Was it nothing more than my wonky witch magic causing all of this? Would Daphne return next week and unravel all the spells, and this little bubble of love…er, lust…er, attraction…that was better, would vanish. Poof, like a puff of smoke, everything would go back to the way it had been,and Michael would look at me and see what I saw in the mirror each morning.
A geeky guy, with glasses that constantly slid down his nose, wild hair that he could never get to do what he wanted, and not a single muscle with any definition.
I hadn’t been to college, happy to spend my days in our shop, reading cards and hoping for a tip, content in my house and hometown with my cat.
In a nutshell, I was boring.
And Michael was the exact opposite.
Huffing for about the twentieth time, I turned onto my side, trying not to jostle the mattress as I did. Hex, who had been perfectly happy to take up the space between Michael and me, had gotten annoyed with my tossing and turning minutes ago and fucked off to who knew where, fluffy tail high in the air.
“Oh my God,” Michael groaned, wrapping his arms around me from behind, and stilling my restless movements with a heavy, toned thigh over mine. “It’s like being in bed with a fish flopping around on the shore.”
“Sorry,” I whispered, trying not to notice the soft bulge pushing against the crease of my ass. No guy’s bulge should fit so perfectly or feel so good. Holding myself stiffly in his arms, as he made me the little spoon, I closed my eyes and tried to will myself to sleep. Where was the freaking sandman when you needed him?
“Why are you so tense?” Michael demanded, running a hand down my arm, his touch soothing.
“Because I’m in bed with my high school crush and I’m freaking out!”
Had I just said that out loud? Please tell me I had kept that inside my head, where it safely belonged.
“You had a crush on me?” Michael whispered, answering my silent question.
