‘Lucky I’m not driving,’ I said, taking a swig and grimacing. ‘I think I just travelled into the future. Where did Mom and the others run off to?’
I asked because I suddenly felt vulnerable, here alone on the picnic blanket with Noah as the sun dipped low, casting the cove with that soft, endless light of a late-summer evening. I always enjoyed Noah’s company, but it was so rare that the two of us spent time alone, and I was nervous. Or perhaps it was the way Noah was looking at me, his gaze thoughtful as always.
‘They got roped into judging the Tiny Trick-or-Treaters costume contest,’ he replied.
I smiled at the thought of little kids in pumpkins and bumblebee costumes.
‘So, how’s Lesley?’ I blurted suddenly, remembering the jogger’s name.
‘Lesley?’ He cocked his head quizzically as he helped himself to a handful of cashews. ‘Oh, right. She volunteers at the shelter. They’re doing an adopt-athon, trying to free up some space while everyone’s in town. The animals will be out for the next hour or so, if you want to take a look. But they’ll be taking them back before the fireworks so that they’re not spooked. I offered to help out.’
Ah, so that explained the whole standing close and giggling thing. Not that it was any business of mine. Not that I cared particularly whether Noah was still single.
‘You know I’ll never say no to snuggling a shelter kitten,’ I said. ‘Or a puppy with really long ears.’
‘They have some beagle mixes,’ said Noah, his serious expression giving way to a smile. ‘You have to tie their ears back with a hair scrunchie while they eat.’
Unwilling to risk another sip of punch, I opened a fresh cider, sipping at it to hide my self-consciousness. There was something about Noah’s presence that set my nerves jangling. But in a way I couldn’t quite articulate. Maybe it was that he lookedsculpted, even in his casual jeans and T-shirt, both flecked with paint, with his hair mussed from the ocean breeze. Maybe it was the way that I could see how his magic glimmered around him – even if he rarely used it, unlike Finn, who argued that it was malpractice not to show off your built-in party trick at every possible opportunity. Maybe it was that when I looked at Noah, I saw someone who felt and cared deeply – and the fact that I could be the subject of that emotion made me anxious.
‘Floppy-eared dogs are my type of dog,’ I said at last. ‘The sillier, the better. Or an agility dog. I could write about it for the paper.’
‘Is dog agility part of your usual beat?’
I chuckled. ‘When you have a newspaper pretty much run by two people, anything goes. If there’s movement involved, it’s fair game.’
‘Rubik’s Cube speed-cubing?’
‘I reported on that last year.’
Noah laughed. It was a sound I hadn’t heard in a while: deep and musical, and with a timbre that made the hairs on my bare arms stand up.
Now even more self-conscious, I drank my cider too quickly, spilling it down my dress. Magic crackled at my fingertips, but Noah got to it first. With a snap of his fingers, he used his own magic to lift the spill before it could stain or pucker the fabric.
‘Thanks,’ I said awkwardly. It wasn’t lost on me that, in spite of his hesitancy to use magic, he’d acted quickly on my behalf.
‘It’s a pretty dress,’ he said. ‘You don’t want to ruin it.’
There was a beat as he gazed at me.
‘Molly,’ he began quietly, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket. I leaned closer, waiting to hear what he was about to say.
But he was interrupted by a commotion behind us.
‘Ooh, back just in time!’ cried Rosie, hurrying up with a giant cinnamon roll in one hand. The other was looped around Mom’s arm. Tiff, meanwhile, clung to Mom’s other arm, and together they were a floral, witchy chain. A tipsy one at that.
I smiled – rarely were Mom and Tiff carefree and giggly. The Summerween festivities were one of the few times they allowed themselves to drop their facade of perfectionism and productivity. Mom didn’t even have her Bluetooth earpiece in.
‘Finn’ll be on stage any second now,’ said Rosie. ‘He’s up after the Bangles cover band. They’re not bad, are they? The Bracelets. Takes me back to my big-haired, big-earringed prime.’
‘You’re still in your big-haired, big-earringed prime,’ I told Rosie, giving her a hug.
‘Spoken just like Charlie,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m glad you’ve taken on the responsibility of talking me up.’
‘It’s an honour, not a responsibility,’ I teased, giving her hand a squeeze.
‘You should join Finn up there, Noah,’ said Tiff with uncharacteristic verve. She’d clearly had more than her usual single drink. Poor Damien. It sounded like he might miss his FaceTime tonight. ‘I’ve heard you singing in the shower. You’re not entirely tone deaf.’
I flushed, trying to avoid thinking of Noah in the shower.
