Nervous habit?
A desire to know all her habits and quirks comes over me. I curl my fingers into fists at my sides and tear my gaze away.
Professor Sage cuts a tiny slice of cake and puts it on a plate. She lifts it to her nose, breathing deep as it sends up puffs of apple-cinnamon-scented steam, and her lips curl into a smile. I hold my breath as she takes a fork and scoops up a bite.
Her little sigh of delight puts me immediately at ease. Then she takes another bite, as if to ensure the first wasn’t a farce. Or maybe it’s just that good. I’d really like to take a slice now.
“Perfectly baked, moist but not too soft, and that frosting.” She takes another bite and sighs again. “Phenomenal. Truly.” She smiles at the two of us. “Well done. You may have baking in your future.”
“Professor!” a student calls from across the room. I look over to find their cake rapidly expanding, like the leavening spell worked a bittoowell.
Professor Sage polishes off the last bite of cake and dabs her lips with a cotton napkin before hurrying over to stop the cake from taking over the classroom.
Now alone with Poppy, I clear my throat and ask, “Well, you wanna try our creation?”
She looks up at me with a smile, her glasses catching the late-afternoon sunlight slipping through the classroom windows. Her lavender eyes sparkle, reminding me of theflowers Ma used to grow in the beds along the front of the house when I was a kid.
And that urge comes back again. The one that makes me want to tuck her soft-looking hair behind her ear and press my mouth to hers, to know if she tastes as sweet as she looks.
“Do I have something on my face?” Poppy asks.
Which means I just got caught staring. Shit.
“Y-yeah,” I say quickly. “You’ve got a bit of flour. Right...” I reach out slowly, giving Poppy a chance to pull away. Surprisingly, she doesn’t. “Here.” I sweep my thumb gently across her warm brown cheek, and it flares red beneath my touch. There wasn’t actually any flour on her face, but I couldn’t pass up that opportunity. My thumb tingles where it brushed her skin. I drop my hand slowly back to my side.
“Thank you,” Poppy whispers. “That would’ve been embarrassing, walking around with flour on my face.” She lets out another laugh, but this one is lined with a touch of nervousness.
“Nah, not embarrassing,” I say, turning now to cut us each a slice of cake. As I hand Poppy her plate, I say, “It looked cute on you.”
She turns redder than the apples decorating our cake.
And if she keeps blushing like this when we’re together, I think I might be in trouble.
Chapter 12
Poppy
AFTER CLASS, ARIC OFFERS TO walk me back to my dorm room. At first, I tell him it’s fine and I can do it myself. But he insists.
So that’s how we end up navigating the crowded hallways side by side, me clinging to the strap of my bookbag while Aric carries our cake plate. There’s enough left for the girls—and Juniper and Yuki—to each have a slice. It’s become a bit of a ritual for them to try the leftovers from my cooking class, and they’ll be pretty happy about this one.
We make it out of the congested elective hallway and step into a wider corridor. Aric takes up a good deal of space, and the other students flow around him as he walks, like he’s a boulder and they’re the stream. It’s so different from walking alone, having to look out for everyone to make sure I don’t get bumped into or run over. That’s happened more times than I care to count. I’m just small and quiet enoughto go unnoticed. But I’m used to it. It’s been this way my whole life.
I’ll admit, it’s a nice change not having to worry about it for once.
As we reach the bottom of the north tower and start up the long, winding staircase, I say, “You did well with that spell today.”
Aric looks down at me, his tusks catching the golden light coming through the stained glass windows lining the exterior wall of the spiraling tower. “You’re a good teacher.” He flashes me a charming smile, and my stomach flutters for the hundredth time since he stepped up to my table and asked if I wanted to be his partner.
I thought Aric saw me as a tool, or a means to an end—his way to improve his grades and make sure he doesn’t get kicked off the runeball team. But when he smiles at me like that, it gets me confused. Like maybe I’m not just useful to him. Maybe he actually... enjoys my company. Maybe I’m important in some way.
No. Stop it.I almost physically shake my head to rid it of the silly thought.It’s just tutoring. That’s all.As if in response to the thought, my cheek tingles where Aric brushed it with his thumb in class.
“So,” Aric says as we climb the stairs, “have you thought about where we’re gonna host this ball?”
I tip my head at him. “I thought here. It’d be easiest.”
Aric hums. “Easy, yes. But memorable? I don’t know.” Then his hazel eyes light up. “Wait, the princess is your roommate, right?”
