by Kallie Khan
“That’s sweet of you, Alistair. I’m glad to know I’m better company than Twila,” she replied with a snort.
He chuckled lightly, then looked down at her with a sudden, fierce, intimate earnestness. “I’m being obtuse,” he said softly. “I enjoy your company, Tobie. It pains me to think just how happy my mother would be if she knew just how much I enjoyed it.”
He gave her a rueful little grin, and she was suddenly aware of how little space was between them, how she could feel the warmth radiating from his body in the chill of the evening air.
“But I wouldn’t even mind admitting it to her,” he added.
“N-no?” She raised an eyebrow and meant it to be a pithy, skeptical sort of reply, but the word came out trembling, like a flower in a breeze.
“Not at all.”
He took her shoulders gently between his palms. His deep blue eyes were like pools of darkness—a warm, compelling darkness. A creature-of-the-night darkness.
She was ready to be swept into it. She was rolling onto the balls of her feet; he was leaning down.
His lips were soft to look at, and a bolt of joy and fear ran through her at the thought of her lips touching his. The bright, clean scent of his hair and faint cologne assailed her like some beautiful, disorienting enemy.
She was no good at this.
She rolled back onto her heels.
“Tobie…”
His arms went around her, respectfully loose to allow her to pull away from him again if she wanted.
But she didn’t know what she wanted, except that maybe exactly what she wanted was him.
But then she thought of Kaiden (floppy dark curls, hot-cocoa-and-mittens smile), and their lunch—the sometime-soon maybe-date—and then she didn’t know what to think.
She turned away at the last second, and Alistair’s lips touched her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“No, I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step back. “I shouldn’t have assumed—”
“No, it’s—I mean, I assumed too.”
“Oh?” His smile was touched with disappointment. “Changed your mind, though.”
She shook her head. “It’s not like that. It’s just, well, I thought this was just a friend thing. I bail you out; you owe me. And then I can guilt you into bailing me out in my own time of need.”
He laughed, looking upward and shaking his head. “Me and my mouth,” he said. “It—it was a friend thing. And I definitely still owe you, don’t get me wrong. But the more I spend time with you, the more I realize I need someone like you in my life.”
Her heart gave an almighty lurch, like some slippery fish caught in a net. She wanted to scold it, but instead just looked up at him, breathless.
“There doesn’t have to be kissing,” he said. “Not if you don’t want. But it’s a small magical world, and they don’t make girls like you every day, magical or mundane.”
“I’m nothing special,” she said, and although the words were meant to sound haughty (not because she thought he was just plying her with empty, honeyed words, but because she was legitimately afraid of the idea that he might actually mean those honeyed words), her insides quivered in pleasure and mortification.
“You’re prickly. But you’re also sweet. Like a cactus. Most girls want to be flowers, but you? You’re different.”
“But all species of cacti are flowering,” she said, voice weak, but her nerdy plant girl heart and knowledge mortifyingly strong as the words bubbled out of her. “It’s just, sometimes the blooms take years, or won’t happen if there’s not enough water or light, or…”
“Then you’re the kind of bloom that’s worth the wait.”
Tobie wracked her brain for something witty to quip back at him. She felt like a cornered dog—except the man cornering her was only threatening because she wanted to go to him so badly. He had treats in the form of those deep eyes, and glossy black hair, and the ever-present allure of his scent.
She was at an impasse, and at a loss for words.
He seemed to sense this, because the intensity in his expression faded, and he gave her a small, reassuring smile. “It appears I must apologize again. I’m coming on far too strong.”
She just gulped, half-subconsciously, in reply.
“Just...give me a call or send me a text every once in a while. If I haven’t totally freaked you out.”
She found her voice enough to recover with a suitably aloof scoff and to say, “You have not freaked me out.”
“It’s gracious of you to say that. Anyway…” He leaned down to give her a chaste, brotherly sort of kiss on her forehead. “You’ve done me a solid, kid. I hope I’ll see you again.”
She raised a hand mutely in farewell as he turned to go. He waved at her over his shoulder, and she heard the distant beep-beeping of his car as he unlocked it.
She climbed into her driver’s seat and stared at the seams of the leather on the wheel. Part of her felt relieved.
Part of her also felt like she’d stuck her hand in the car door and slammed it shut on purpose.
And yet another part of her, the part clinging desperately to a fraying thread, wondered why on earth she was depleting mental capital worrying so much about cute boys that smelled nice and occasionally said intelligent things in the first place, because really, were they worth it?
Chapter 12
KAIDEN
He was nervous, which made him even more nervous, because he was usually never nervous. But it had also been quite a while since he’d been on a first date, and he’d certainly never eaten at an Ethiopian restaurant before.
A million tiny insecurities ate at him, like tiny fish nibbling on a large chunk of meat: what if Tobie thought he was uncultured if he had to ask what the dishes were? What if he mispronounced the dish names when he ordered? What if he got food in his teeth? What if he spilled his drink?
What if he couldn’t think of a single sparkling thing to say to her and started blabbering about the weather (“I definitely think we’re getting a small cold front tonight. I mean, you can just feel the barometric pressure changing”), or the soil conditions in his backyard (disappointingly dry in some places, but nothing some do-it-himself makeshift sprinkler system couldn’t assuage)?
Oh dear.
Yeah. He was definitely going to end up talking about soil conditions.
But he couldn’t escape the wondrous anticipation at seeing Tobie again, and he also couldn’t escape his natural tendency toward fatal optimism, so by the time he pulled up in front of Aster’s Fine Ethiopian Cuisine, his nerves had been transmuted into an enthusiastic (if overly ambitious for his vocal range) rendition of In the Air Tonight (complete with passionate drum solo onomatopoetics, because otherwise what kind of man would he be?).
As luck would have it (or possibly just as expectation would have it, since he arrived a few minutes before they’d agreed to meet), Tobie pulled up at almost the exact same time, and was so quick to get out of the car, he barely had time to wave before turning his truck off.
She gave him a lopsided grin. It made her look like some sort of adorable pixie scoundrel. “Was that Phil Collins I heard?”
“What makes you say that?” he said, though a guilty half-grin was forming on his lips.
“Oh, just something about the general Phil Collins-y music and the way you did your air drums.” She raised her arms as though she were holding sticks. “Doo-doo, doo-doo, do-do do-do—! Well, you know.”
His face reddened and he shoved his hands in his pockets, stifling an embarrassed laugh. “You caught me.”
“Happens to the best of us,” she said brightly. “Come on! I’m starving.”
As soon as they walked in, a chorus of “Hi, Tobie!” assailed them.
Tobie smiled and waved back. “Hi, Gadise! Hi, Martin! Hi, Izara!” She turned to Kaiden. “I may or may not eat here every day. It’s a miracle they keep letting me back in.”
“Pick your favorite table, Tobie!”
a woman called. “I’ll be right over.”
“Thanks, Gadise!”
It turned out he needn’t have worried about mispronouncing anything; when he said he’d never had Ethiopian food and was excited to try it, Tobie walked him through each portion of the menu, explaining the different spices and herbs used in the dishes, and the cooking methods. “And you can’t forget the injera,” she added. “They make the best injera here. It’s kind of like a really thin pita bread. Nice and porous. You use it to scoop up the food.”
They decided to split doro wat and afiza (“My favorites,” Tobie admitted with a guilty shrug), and Kaiden was overwhelmed by the flavor. “How have I never eaten this before?!”
“Delicious, right?”
“How does one live without this flavor in one’s life?”
“At risk of blaspheming, it’s a pretty spiritual experience, I’d say.”
“I absolutely concur. To enlightenment and flavor,” he said, and raised his glass.
“Enlightenment and flavor!”
He drank deeply, peering covertly from under his lashes as Tobie did the same. She had a faint, half-forgotten smile on her face, and held her glass in two hands when she lowered it from her lips.
“Hey,” she said suddenly, looking sharply up at him. “How’s the landscaping going?”
“Me?”
She made a show of looking around. “Yes! Who else? You were supposed to show me pictures.”
“Oh, right!” He twisted in his chair so he could take his phone out of his pocket, and told himself firmly that he would not, under any circumstances, discuss soil conditions.
“Ooh, that’s lovely!” she said as he leaned forward and flicked through the pictures (the series of which he’d very officially deemed “Phases Point-Five through One”). “Oh, a fountain! I’ve always wanted a fountain...Say, what’s the soil condition like?”
His jaw dropped and his eyes bugged ever so slightly out. Then he laughed, incredulous.
She sat back, looking little miffed and more than a little bemused. “I don’t get what’s so funny,” she said, a touch of offense in her tone.
He shook his head as his laughter dissipated, then sighed, rubbing his face with both hands. “I was so nervous I’d say something ridiculous, or worse, bore you,” he confessed, holding his hands out. “I figured the most boring thing I could bring up was definitely soil conditions.”
“You realize I have a degree in plant science.”
“Yes.”
“You realize I work at a plant nursery.”
“Yes,” he said again, tone contrite.
“So you must realize that I’m actually obsessed with soil conditions.”
“I confess, I feel a little ridiculous right now.”
She arched an eyebrow, mouth quirking upward a touch. “So do you think I’m boring?”
“What?! No! What gave you that idea?”
“Well if soil conditions are the ‘most boring thing’ and also one of my obsessions, that must make me boring.”
“An expert twisting of my words, my dear Tobie.”
She inclined her head. “I do my best.”
“And no—I don’t think you’re boring at all. And I don’t think soil conditions are boring; I just thought you might find them boring. But, as you so astutely pointed out, that was a rushed and illogical conclusion to reach.”
“I accept your apology.”
He looked around, mimicking her earlier action, pretending to look for witnesses. “Did I apologize?”
She nodded with an arch sereneness. “If you want this date to continue, then yes, I believe you did.”
His mouth dropped open and he sputtered for a good two seconds.
She clapped her hands over her mouth at his expression. “I’m kidding! Oh my goodness, I’m kidding,” she said, laughing.
“See? Too good to be true. I can’t even compete.”
“I’m sorry—I’m talking to you like I’m talking to my sister—and no, I don’t think of you like a sister,” she added when he opened his mouth. “But Mystia’s usually the only person who can keep up. Not used to having such a decent sparring partner.” She gave him another gracious nod and lifted her glass to him before taking a sip.
“Well, I’m glad I—”
But before he could finish his sentence, Gadise, who was making her way past them with a tray full of drinks, slipped on a well-worn patch of linoleum between the tables. He reacted, but not fast enough.
Except suddenly, she stopped. She froze in the air at an impossible angle, body ramrod straight, forty-five degrees from the floor. The drinks and tray fell, plastic clattering against the linoleum and water spilling spectacularly.
But Gadise straightened up from her impossible backward lean like the hour hand on a clock hand speeding from ten to the twelve, unruffled and unscathed, aside from the water that splashed around her ankles.
Gadise looked at him and back at Tobie, wide-eyed and speechless.
“I’ll get towels!” Tobie said, springing out of her seat and running toward the kitchen.
Gadise looked back at Kaiden, still clearly flabbergasted. “What happened?” she breathed.
“I…” Kaiden began, also at loss for words. He raised his hands in an I-got-nothing gesture. “I...I have no—oh! Let me help, too!” he said, bafflement interrupted when Tobie returned with an armful of clean cloths and several people.
Tobie tossed him some towels at him, and they had the floor dry in quick order.
“That was incredible,” he told Tobie when they were settled again. “Incredible. It was like—like magic.”
An expression Kaiden couldn’t quite read flickered across Tobie’s face. “Yeah, magic,” she said, nodding.
“I mean, right?”
“It was crazy.”
But something odd had come over her, and Kaiden couldn’t put his finger on it. She smiled, but it was weirdly stiff and didn’t quite meet her eyes. Her eyes practically glittered when she smiled—but not now.
She seemed to relax after a while, and once they got the check (which she snatched away from him and insisted on splitting the bill), she was utterly normal, and as they were standing in the little garden outside of Aster’s, he said, “Hey, I’m gonna get you that fountain you want,” and she lit up like the sun climbing above the horizon.
Then she rolled her eyes, but the glitter was definitely back in them. “Don’t be silly.”
“I’m not,” he said, shoving his hands in his back pockets. “I know a guy who can get me a great deal. Okay, yes, I forgot you were someone who’d appreciate a discussion of soil conditions, but you forget that I was in landscaping for years. I know people,” he said again, and gave her a reassuring grin.
She grinned back, and he detected a sweetness, a bashfulness to her grin that for some reason thrilled him to his very core.
Then her expression grew sharp again. “But I can’t let you buy me a fountain.”
“Well, I’ll tell you how much and you can pay me. Or attempt to pay me, at least.”
“Ever the gentleman.”
“Your professional friend has connections,” he said, laying a finger along the side of his nose.
She gave a bright laugh that sent a warmth through his body. “Back to professional friends, huh?” But she didn’t seem offended at all this time.
“If it’ll make you feel better about letting me get you a cheap—seriously, pennies—fountain from a guy I know who owes me a favor anyway, absolutely.”
She sighed. “I’m not letting you buy me a fountain. That would be totally irresponsible of me. Taking advantage of our professional friendship, and all.”
He laughed, then shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
He was totally getting her a fountain.
Chapter 13
TOBIE
“I’m sorry, you cast a spell—” Mystia pronounced the words slowly and precisely, as though she were speaking to someone whose words she didn’t quite un
derstand “—in front of restaurant patrons?”
Tobie gave an aggrieved sigh and enunciated her words with much more force. “Mystie. She was going to crack. Her. Head. Open. I couldn’t let her fall!”
Mystia tut-tutted, eyes closed, and shook her head. “Thank goodness we live in a more modern era. I can just see ‘Goody Moon’ being drowned in the river for her evil transgressions.”
Tobie barked a laugh. “Well that got dark fast.”
“Well! You’re my only sister, and my little one at that. I’m supposed to protect you. Instill fear in you. All that good stuff. What would happen to you if someone found out?”
Tobie rubbed her temples. “Ugh. I don’t know. But also, I’ve been thinking—what happens if it works out? I mean, not necessarily with Kaiden,” she rushed to say, “but you know. I meet someone, fall in love, and...he happens to be a mundane. What then?”
Mystia looked her solemnly. “Well...remember what happened to Elodie.”
Elodie was their second cousin who had the misfortune of falling in love with a certified public accountant, and then she’d disappeared, ahem, “mysteriously,” from the family function guest list (at least as drawn up by their mother).
“I’d be disowned,” she said, nodding stoically.
“Don’t be silly!” said Mystia, but she didn’t look as confident as she sounded.
“Uh-huh,” said Tobie, pointing at Mystia’s uncertain expression.
“You wouldn’t.” But Mystia’s voice lacked conviction.
Tobie sighed. “RIP, cousin Elodie.”
“Are-Eye-Pee,” echoed Mystia.
“Excommunicated,” said Veronica helpfully, the word oddly crisp from her cat’s mouth. Then she mewed sweetly and twined herself around their ankles.
They exchanged a mutual expression of glumness.
“Wanna watch Scarface again?” Mystia offered.
She loved her sister. “Always, Mystie.”
Chapter 14