“I have no idea what you just said.”
“You honestly want to know?”
He nodded.
“Okay, then think of it like …” I narrowed my eyes, thinking. “You are a kitchen witch, and you want to create happiness or joy.”
“There are different types of witches?”
“Depends on how label-y you want to be, but of course. Anyway—”
“What type of witch are you?”
Wow. We were really getting into this.
Taking a deep breath, I set my laptop to the side.
“I consider myself an eclectic witch.” Like all things, I couldn’t make up my mind. “Before school, when I was fully able to embrace myself and all of it, I was a solitary practitioner. It was magic in an odd sense, which I found comfort in when I was alone more than any other time, I think. I kept hoping for a better next.”
“A better next,” he repeated.
“I have to remind myself how grateful and happy I am not to have to learn and talk about magic by myself. Not since I gained my coven. They took me in. A family. Back in high school, this, right here, was my better next. Anyway …”
I waited for him to cut me off again.
He waited in case I had anything else to say, a softness to his eyes.
Of course, they always looked that way.
“For example, with the magic question. A kitchen witch might use witchcraft or magic by baking. She might decide to create little cakes for happiness. She’ll put corresponding ingredients in and make sure her intention while baking them is her end goal. What you want hard enough, already is.”
“I like that. What you want, already is.”
“I’m sure there is a better way to phrase it. Anyway, that’s mainly the thing. Desire and manifestation for a witch, like a kitchen witch making her cakes mindfully is bringing her goal for happiness in others around her to life.”
“Huh,” said Ryan. A hint of confusion clouded his expression. It was the same sound he had made when I explained my crystal necklace in the dean’s office. “I think I need some of those cakes.”
Didn’t we all?
His phone chimed.
I forced myself not to lean over the table to see who was messaging him.
He only grinned, grabbing his crutches to stand again. “I guess we’ll have to settle. Pizza’s here.”
Pizza. The thought of pizza caused any talk of happiness cake to disappear. Outside the wide second-floor window, a nondescript white car with a dent in the bumper pulled up to the curb.
“I didn’t realize it was so late,” Ryan whispered, looking around the empty library as they made their way downstairs.
Like them, however, there was likely at least one other person still hiding in a corner somewhere. The steady tapping of a keyboard echoed through the empty lengths of space, pausing with the occasional hum, as if someone were writing to music and couldn’t help but sing along to their study playlist.
They likely thought they were the only ones inside the library at this point too.
“What? Have somewhere to be?” I asked at a normal volume, watching from the bottom step as Ryan made his way down the final few stairs.
He stumbled on the second to last. I flinched, as if to catch the large buffoon of a man.
He cocked his head. “You going to try and save me, Lu?”
