Page 45 of Hex and the City
I swept my fingers up through my hair. “This isn’t a relationship. It’s just — I don’t know, I like him, I guess. Maybe I’m just scared of what could go wrong, what I could do wrong. I don’t like it when things go too fast. I don’t like being pushed out of my comfort zone. I didn’t want a one-night stand.”
“You brought him here to meet us. You wanted Witch Boy to meet your friends. You wanted to show him off. That’s not a one-night stand. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Just go with the flow, Max. Let it happen.”
I nearly flinched, hearing the echo of Leon’s words, except he was describing his philosophy on magic at the time.
“Thanks. That — that actually makes sense. I’ll try harder to, uh, not try so hard.”
He laughed. “Just relax, Maxy. And besides, I don’t think trading blowjobs in the backseat counts as a one-night stand.”
My fingers closed around thin air as my hands formed into fists. “How did you even guess that — never mind.”
Roscoe smacked the table triumphantly. “Aha! So I guessed right.”
Good thing that Ross’s intel was still fallible, the way he whiffed on his suggestion to break into Atomica. Otherwise, I’d swear the boy was psychic.
Four glasses clinked onto the table, a set of old-fashioneds courtesy of the great Johnny Slivers. I noticed, however, that the great Johnny Slivers was not accompanied by the also-great Leon Alcantara.
“Appreciate it, Johnny, really.” I reached for my drink, cocking my eyebrow in question. “But where’d Leon go?”
Johnny shrugged. “Witch Boy said he needed a breather. I don’t blame him, it can get a little overwhelming in here for newbies.”
I glanced at the front doors, the cold of my cocktail chilling my fingers numb, trying my very best to keep my cool. Leon was always running, on the move, on the go. Just passing through Dos Lunas, he said.
“He’ll be fine,” Ross said, squeezing the back of my hand. “Kid’s probably just out on the sidewalk getting his nerves together. It’s a new world for him, Max. Let him take it in. Let him, you know, expand the borders of his comfort zone. Sound familiar?”
I gave Roscoe a grateful smile. But Johnny’s gaze flitted between the two of us, his drink already halfway to his mouth. He set it down again, glass clinking on wood, his eyes narrowed to slits.
“What’s this, now? Do I smell romance in the air?”
Roscoe laughed. I covered my face in my hands, wishing I could smother myself. I raked at my hair again, staring bleakly at Johnny Slivers, ready to take my lumps.
He leaned on the table with both elbows, cupping his chin in both hands, as excited as a teenage girl receiving the gift of gossip at a slumber party.
“Ooh. Does Maxy have a little crush? Tell me everything.”
I grimaced, then took a long, cold sip of my drink. I loved my boys, even though they could be real fucking jerks sometimes.
21
LEON
My breath streamed out of my nostrils in wisps and curls. Steam, I knew, but it reminded me of smoke and dragons. I stared at my reflection in the plate glass outside Unholy Grounds.
“Smoke and mirrors, more like,” I grumbled, my breath misting on the glass. The guys couldn’t see me out here, hiding behind the fronds of a potted plant. A monstera, maybe, the ones with the leaves full of holes, like Swiss cheese.
The guys, I said. Like they were actually my friends, like I actually was setting down roots in Dos Lunas, dropping anchor.
Why did that seem so scary? Watching Johnny mix up our old-fashioneds, chattering away as if we’d known each other longer than the five minutes I’d spent with him and Roscoe.
They even had a pet name for me already. They were so welcoming, too, so ready to give me a place at their table.
Literally. Johnny had set down four drinks, bless him. The three of them reached for their cocktails. I watched the back of Max’s head — you know, like a stalker — until it turned to look toward the street.
I ducked, safe behind the plant, safe in the world outside. Because that was where it always felt safest for me, living on the fringes, never getting too close or too deep. I couldn’t decide why it felt so much harder to meet and trust new people after Mom died.
Maybe I’d gotten too used to it always being just the two of us. We did everything together, watched soap operas with over-the-top actors and storylines, worked the magic of our ancestors. One by one, the older witches of the Alcantara clan succumbed to disease or old age. And then there were two.
And now there was one.
