She remembered brands she’d chosen at the grocery store over other brands, for no good reason. Things she’d wanted to add to coffees but hadn’t; food other people had made that she’d hesitated to eat. Like she’d had a constant little voice in her head, telling her danger danger danger. Even if it was just about a certain combination of ingredients that she hadn’t made.
But that still felt wrong.
And it went deeper than that. There was more than what he’d suggested. Like the times some colleague or semifriend had said they wanted something they couldn’t have. And she’d come so close to telling them—just add honey to that cup of tea. Just let it sit outside, when the moon is fat. Just do this and this and this, and everything will be okay.
Then kept her mouth shut, instead. Because she’d promised.
But also because she had been afraid.
Deep down, she’d felt fear about what she could possibly do.
And so she’d limited herself, in the same way she’d limited herself about other, more ordinary things. Going from temp job to temp job because she might fail at something more secure. Never filling out those college applications to study medicine the way she’d always wanted to—because what if she wasn’t good enough there either?
All the friendships she’d been afraid to make. Every date she’d avoided going on.
Always afraid of having the rug pulled, the way he’d pulled it.
And now here he somehow was, being the one spreading it all out before her. Bigger than before, better, enormous. Because this wasn’t just friendship or a possible career or something she could study. It was way beyond that. It was her entire sense of self being turned on its head.
And she just didn’t know how to cope with that.
“Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m going to throw up,” she foundherself saying. But when she did—when she had to lean over and rest her hands on her knees and take deep breaths—he kind of came toward her. He held out his hands to her.
He said, “Okay, okay, just tell me what to do. Should I hold back your hair?”
As if it weren’t enough on its own that he was being so steadfastly the opposite of everything she’d believed about him for the last ten years. He had to keep compounding it, over and over. He had to keep proving her wrong on that point at every turn.
While also telling her that she was something powerful and incredible.
I could turn you into an ant for what you did, and you don’t care. In fact, you’re happy about it, she thought. Then had to hold a hand out to stop him, as the swell of affection toward him grew. As it started to make her feel warm again, like his goddamn juicy stomach had. “Fuck no, that will only make it worse. Stay over there, just stay there,” she gasped out. Then he did, oh god, he actually listened and stopped in his tracks. And he remained there, a foot from her, while she wrestled that sick feeling back under control.
She had to sit down and put her head between her knees.
Yet when she looked up, he was still there. Face a maze of con cern. Every muscle tensed. One hand sort of hovering close to her, like he was waiting to catch her if she slumped into a faint. Even though his hovering hand was the thing most likely to make that happen. She saw it held out and felt even hotter and weirder than she already did.
But this time, she got her feelings under control quick. She made herself focus.
Think about what’s actually important here, she told herself. And she did.
“So what do I do now?” she asked. A little bit weak and wavery about it at first. But then firmer. Surer about things. “Do I have to go look for others like me? Do I have to find a coven?”
“I don’t think covens really exist anymore. Witches are pretty rare.”
“Because of all the witch trials and things like that?”
It has to be,she thought.
But he was already batting his hand at her.
“Oh god no. No human dude could burn a real witch. In fact, real witches spent a lot of time burning those dudes for burning ordinary people. No, no—they just tend to attract certain types, thirsty for their magic. And then said witches end up dead or missing. Or they hide. Plus, often they never even realize what they are. Their magic is so minor they just chalk what happens up to the universe being weird.”
“Which means there’s no one I can ask the millions of questions I have.”
He hesitated then.
She saw it happen—he took a breath as if to say something, before letting whatever it was just hover on the tip of his tongue. Then after a moment, he just went for it. “Well, there might be someone. But I don’t know how you’d really feel about him being that person. You know, because he did a really bad thing to you. And then almost ate your face off and accidentally humblebragged about his giant penis,” he said. Because he was absolutely ridiculous.
“Yeah, and now he appears to be doing it again.”
