Page 7 of To Teleport, or Not to Teleport?
“I’m not sure how you didn’t know. The entire town has been buzzing with the news.”
I shook my head. “And here I thought you were my best friend.”
Cami laughed. “Considering I just confirmed his invitation for a date since you couldn’t… not that I blame you, because holy hell.” She fanned her face and leaned against the counter. “I thought you two would go up in flames.”
“Stop it! That’s not true.”
“Aileen! He didn’t askusto check out his shop. And he sure as hell wasn’t looking at me like he wanted to eat me up when he dropped that little claiming line you think I missed. Whatever attraction you two not-so-secretly held as teens is burning about a million times hotter.”
I shook my head. “I can’t process any of this.”
“Okay, how about you tell me what happened before you showed up here?”
Kenny’s face came to mind, and I curled my fingers into my palms, my fingernails biting into the flesh. “Kenny pissed me off.”
“Okay, that’s not new. What was different this time? What did he say or do that you didn’t want to bring it up in front of Grayson?” Cami asked.
I rubbed the spot between my eyes and sighed. “He brought up Grayson. Why this darn town seems to think he is anything like his father is beyond me.”
Cami pulled me into her arms. “Oh, honey, I know you want to protect him from the assjackets of this town, but he’s a big boy.” She pushed me back and ducked her head to meet my gaze. “Now you’ll have to tell me if all of him is big,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.
“Cami!” I shrieked.
Her laughter died as she cocked her head. “Did you really not understand your vision?”
Pressing my hand to my stomach, I shook my head. “No, I didn’t. It just made me sick to my stomach. Give it a few days, and I’m sure it will unravel.”
“In the meantime, you need to walk your beautiful ass back to work to get your things, unless you’ve finally figured out how to teleport.”
I sighed. “I’m probably the only witch in the world who can’t figure it out and then poof, I did it.”
Cami chuckled. “Maybe Grayson is the key,” she said with a wink. “Get going, and I expect a rundown of your date.”
Butterflies replaced the nausea giving my body whiplash. “And on that note, I’m leaving, but not before I—” I snagged a chocolate croissant I’d missed when I’d first arrived and hurried around the counter.
Cami’s laughter followed me out onto the sidewalk. A pair of witches shot me a dirty look before continuing on their way. Their words reached my ears as they continued their conversation.
“I still don’t understand how Baba Yaga didn’t throw him into the pokey with his father for stealing that money.”
“I know, right? It’s bad enough he didn’t tell anyone about the honey badgers.”
Their voices trailed but not before their negative comments regarding Gray stole every drop of moisture from my mouth. The chocolate croissant tasted like dirt, and a sharp pain under my breastbone drew my attention away from the awful witches.
By the time I reached the edge of downtown, I’d heard enough. It didn’t matter that I wore sandals and a long flowy skirt—or the fact I should grab my things from the school—I ran the rest of the way home.
I hurried up the steps, opened the unlocked door, then slammed it shut and slid down the wood. The moment my bottom hit the floor, I burst into tears. All the emotion from my day bubbled out in large tears that streamed down my cheeks.
I cried for the boy Grayson had been. For the girl who’d been unable to protect the boy she cared for. For the frustrated witch I had become, with a power that sometimes made no sense and always reared its ugly face at the worst times.
Rita purred, placing a paw on my cheek to get a better look of my face. “And why are we crying?”
“A rough day is all,” I said, unable to mention Grayson.
Rita narrowed her yellow eyes. “I don’t believe you.” She dropped onto all four paws, rubbed her long body against my side, and shoved her head into the palm of my hand. “You may pet me until the wet stuff ends, but if you get it on me, Iwillbring you a present.”
I shuddered, thinking of Rita’s past presents: hair balls, dead rodents, and the time she used my bookshelf as a scratching post.
Once I was all cried out, I forced myself to my feet. Rita headed for the bright-red cat hammock she’d demanded I buy for her, and I padded toward the kitchen. I hit the squeaky wooden slat I always tried to avoid and cringed. Shifting to the left of the hall, I made it to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. My bottle was still at the school with the rest of my things, but I didn’t care. There was nothing I couldn’t live without until Monday.
