Page 76 of A Ghost’s Guide to Haunting a Witch

Fuck the patriarchy, though, because I know the truth. I’d already made up my mind long before our date tonight even started. Somewhere between choosing this dress and reapplying my lipstick for no real reason, I’d decided: I was going to sleep with him.

Still, sitting here now, with his absent-minded circles against my skin, I realize I’m not shocked by my own decision.

But I am shocked by how quickly he’s made it feel inevitable.

I take another deep breath. “You did say our third date would be better.”

“I did, and it has been.” He’s still gazing at me with hot eyes. “It could end right here, right now, and it would still be better.”

“I don’t want it to end here,” I admit. “I don’t want it to end now.”

He smiles at that, slow, pleased, and maybe even a little dangerous. It plays havoc with my body, that smile.

“So, you’d like us to be statistically consistent, then?”

“Mm. I really would.”

We leave the restaurant, and outside, the air is cooler, the city quieter in that mid-November way that makes everything feel slightly more intimate.

We start walking, and I know where I’m taking him. My place.

Our hands brush once and then twice. The third time it happens, he doesn’t let mine go, and something deep within me begins to tingle. It’s not nerves, not exactly. It’s better than that, but also, more weighted. Like this moment matters more than it should. We stop eventually, outside my flat, and Theo turns to me.

There’s that look again. That knowing, far-too-clever-for-his-own-good look.

“That sixty-four per cent,” he says softly, stepping towards me, “might need revising.”

“Oh?” I tilt my head. “Up or down?”

“Up,” he says.

He kisses me, and it’s not like the long, lingering kisses of our second date. No, this is better. He’s slow at first, almost tentative, like he’s giving me time to adjust to this, to adjust to him. Then, his hand finds my waist, pulling me closer, and I go easily, pressing myself to him closely, winding my hands around his neck. Suddenly, his kiss deepens, and it’s torrid now, as well as completely uninhibited.

Time does that thing again, slips, stretches, and then disappears entirely, and I realize this is exactly where I want to be. In Theo’s arms, with Theo’s lips on mine and his hands on my body.

Patriarchy be damned.

I only break away to find my key, and pull Theo towards the door.

He looks at the door to my flat and blinks. “What is this place?” he asks, his gaze sweeping over the building with interest.

“My place.”

“It’s a shop.”

“Yeah. I told you I own one.”

Theo looks flustered. “Look, I can be kinky at times . . . but at your shop?”

I laugh, actually laugh, bright and a little breathless, the sound spilling out of me before I can stop it. It cuts through the haze he’s wrapped me in, just enough to bring everything back into focus.

“No. I have a flat above the shop,” I smile as I push the key into the lock. “That’s where I live.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Augustine staggered backwards when she rushed back into her own body, in her own time.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, falling to her knees. “Oh my God. It was me. It was me all along.”