Nix’s eyes danced with mischief as she cocked her head towards Mr. Handsome’s direction.
I shook her head. No way was I looking at him after what she said.
She cocked her head towards him again, more insistently this time.LOOK!
Oh, River of Lethe...here goes nothing.
I slowly turned Mr. Handsome’s way.
Magnetic hazel eyes collided with mine, and I quickly snapped my head back. As mortifying as it was to admit, having our gazes meet was already more excitement than I could handle; my breath had locked in my throat as my heart rate picked up speed –for Cronos’ sake, Blair, please act your age!
“Here’s your order, by the way.” Nix placed a steaming hot plate before me. It was Panda’sBreakfast Special: sunny-side-ups, bacon, buttered toast, and a healthy serving of Mr. P’s homemade potato salad. Normally, the sight of it was enough to bring a smile to my face, but right now I had a nasty feeling I might not even manage a single bite.
I could still feel Mr. Handsome’s gaze on me, and I wondered glumly if Nix’s words had him realizing how plain I was. Maybe he even thought I was unattractive? I couldn’t blame him if he did. I knew I wasn’t hideous or anything, but I also knew my features were far from eye-catching.
Wavy dark brown hair I always kept tied up in a bun, the same shade of eyes, skin so fair I could easily get lost in a white background, curves that had never left me since I hit puberty – and, oh, did I mention I was kinda on the short side, too?
Honestly, the only thing I had going for me was my love for clothes. Today’s outfit was a loose floral dress in shades of blue and gray, black tights, and a pair of leather oxfords. If I had to put it in words, I suppose it would be that I had an instinct for knowing what looked good, and it was a talent I found quite handy, considering how little I could afford to spend on my wardrobe.
“Enjoy,” Nix was saying. “And if you want another pair of toast like you usually—-”
“Err, no, this is fine,” I cut the younger girl off hastily before she could say more. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of how much I ate (nothing wrong with a healthy appetite, you know?), but I’d also rather not have my love for carbs be one of the first things Mr. Handsome knew about me.
Nix left with a cheerful wave after pouring coffee into my mug, and I did my best to ignore Mr. Handsome’s piercing stare as I took out my textbook. I wasn’t actually in the mood to study, but I needed something to look at while I struggled to regain my composure.
Placing the copiously bookmarked hardback on the counter, I absently started flipping through it while taking a bite of my toast. It had the wordsLevel 1: Spells and Brewsemblazoned in pretty big letters on its dust jacket, but I wasn’t worried about anyone catching a glimpse of it. All of my books from CSI were spell-protected, and unless they were on the agency’s to-see list, both supernaturals and immortals would see the same thinghumans did: a dusty, obscure economics manual published the first year Adam Smith started talking about modern capitalism.
Thirty minutes later, and I found myself gaping at my empty plate in surprise. I had actually ended up so engrossed with this week’s reading material I had finished my breakfast without even realizing it. I had even forgotten all about Mr. Handsome of all things.
Struck by a sudden urge to have another look at him, I casually reached for my coffee, hoping to peek at him over the rim of my mug—-
Thunder like no other suddenly roared outside the diner, and I jerked involuntarily. My hand rattled, and coffee spilled on the opened pages of my textbook.
Brooms and sticks!
As I hurriedly pulled out a couple of tissue sheets from the holder, I missed the way Mr. Handsome frowned when he glanced at my book. By the time I turned around, Mr. Handsome had a charmingly polite smile on his face. “May I help?”
His voice was deep but gentle. It was my first time to hear him speak, and it had me stammering like a ninny. “It’s f-fine. I c-can—-” My voice trailed off as Mr. Handsome pried the sheet of tissue from my hands and mopped the stain on my page.
After, he ran his fingers on the wet, dark spot, and when he lifted his fingers the page was completely dry and stain-free.
I blinked. “Umm. Wow.” I was genuinely spellbound. I had seen other witches perform similar tricks, but never with the same ease and speed that Mr. Handsome had displayed.
“It’s a fairly simple spell,” Mr. Handsome murmured. “I could teach it to you if you like.”
Before I could even think of what I wanted to say, he had already reached for my hand, and the impact of his touch was, for lack of a better word,incredible.
A thousand sensations bombarded my body – shock, thrill, excitement, fear, anticipation – I simply felt too, too much, and I kept feeling more as Mr. Handsome slowly guided my hand into repeating the necessary strokes for the spell.
I did my best to memorize them, but it was impossible. Every second of having his fingers hold mine had secret parts of my body trembling in acute awareness; in the end, all I could do was focus on keeping myself from fainting.
“Easy, right?” He let go of my hand, and I didn’t know whether I felt relieved or sad that he was no longer touching me. It still seemed so surreal, and my senses had yet to recover from the fact that Mr. Handsome’s hand had held mine in the first place.
“With enough practice,” he told me, “it should be doable for a Level 1.”
I started to nod and thank him when I realized what he had just said. My gaze flew to his, but he only smiled at my obvious surprise.
“How did you know I’m a Level 1?” I questioned uncertainly.
