I grab my class notebook from the edge of our workstation and hand it over to Aric. As soon as he starts to read, his eyebrows lift. “Wow. Your notes are so clean.” He gives me a sideways smile. “Mine are a mess. Just chicken scratch. You’d think a little kid wrote them.”
This draws a laugh out of me, and Aric’s smile grows.
I’m going to have to reread my rules after class and remind myself of the one I added.
He smiles at everyone, I think.Don’t take it personally.
Aric rereads my page of notes, then sets the notebook down. “All right. You wanna say it with me?”
My face heats up. I nod.
We each hold a hand out over our cake pan, and we recite Professor Sage’s spell together, Aric referencing my notes while I say it from memory. “Levamentum dulcis, rise and breathe, by patient hands that mix and knead. Lightness shaped by craft and care, lift now and fill the air.”
In response to our spell, our batter bubbles a few times, but otherwise, it remains unremarkable.
Aric looks down at me, handing my notes back. “Was something supposed to happen?”
I reference my notebook, but I don’t have anything written down. I must’ve been distracted by thoughts of Aric and the new rule I needed to write down while Professor Sage was covering this part.
Though it’s almost physically painful to admit, I say softly, “I... don’t know.”
But Aric is unbothered, if his easygoing smile is any indication. “Well, let’s get it in the fire and find out.”
Chapter 11
Aric
OUR APPLE CAKE IS A thing of beauty, perfectly risen and smelling of cinnamon and nutmeg. And as I watch Poppy frost it, her brow wrinkled in concentration, her tongue barely poking from the corner of her mouth, I get a sudden overwhelming urge to lean forward and kiss her. It’s so strong and startling that I blink and shift back from our workstation, trying to clear my head of her sweet peppermint scent.
She’s Maeve’s friend, I tell myself.And she doesn’t see me that way.But that laugh I drew out of her earlier was such a pretty sound, and I already know it’s going to be locked away in a safe place in my mind, right along with all the other moments that I don’t want to forget, even if I probably should.
Poppy finishes frosting the cake, then looks up at me. Her glasses have slid down the bridge of her nose again, and without thinking, I reach out and push them up for her.
And we both freeze. But blood still rushes into Poppy’s face, turning her brown skin a beautiful shade of dark pink.
I don’t usually blush—at anything—but I feel like I might be on the brink of doing just that, so I turn my gaze quickly away, focusing on our cake.
“Only one step left,” I say, carefully keeping my gaze away from her and her cute flushed cheeks.
Professor Sage’s taste test.
She must be the luckiest professor at Coven Crest, getting to try all the food her students prepare.
Across the room, one pair’s cake lets out a puff of air and sloops to the side, collapsing amidst a geyser of steam.
Okay, maybe she’s not the luckiest professor. The students in her classes probably create some pretty questionable dishes.
“Miss Waverly, Mr. Vandermere.” Professor Sage approaches our workstation, her eyes going wide as she takes in our cake.
Poppy decorated it beautifully, with slices of red apple and little puffs of frosting that look as soft as clouds. My mouth waters just looking at it.
“This looks delectable,” our professor says. “And the leavening spell worked like a charm. Not so hard, hmm?”
Over her shoulder, another cake collapses, and the students hurriedly try to salvage it, but it slumps into a pile, unwilling to stand again. I think Poppy saw it too, because when I flick a quick glance at her, I notice she’s trying not to laugh.
“May I?” Professor Sage asks, looking between the two of us.
“Please,” Poppy says. She presses up onto her toes, just a bit, then rocks back. Then she does it again.
