Page 23 of Haunt Me, Maybe

“Don’t touch it,” I warned.

“Too late.” She smirked but lowered her hand.

The maze tightened, and I felt it then—a pressure, not unlike the café. It was louder, less patient. A shove rather than a gentle nudge. The ground suddenly tilted, and Aven stumbled into me. I wasn’t a complete asshole, so…I caught her. My hands landed on her waist, and I pulled her toward me.

Her palms slapped against my chest as the breath knocked out of her in a quiet gasp. What a sound; wispy and sweet. The need to hear it again, to somehow pry another one from her lips, was all-consuming. I resisted by sheer strength of will, and the result left me as frozen as she was. What the hell was that?

Only our rapidly moving chests showed we recognized this moment for what it was. An unintentional one. At least on my part. My hands tightened, thumbs brushing over the bone of her hips while my other fingers pressed lightly into her soft skin.

My entire being hummed at the contact. Like an open channel of pure electricity. It had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with her. I couldn’t explain it. Aven looked up at me, eyes wide and hair tangled with stray corn silk. Beautiful. The thought came unbidden and then lingered. I reached up to free her hair without thinking, and the maze positively thrummed.

The faint vibrations jolted me from my dangerous thoughts, pushing me back into reality. I needed to get a grip. Aven might not be evil, but she was still a witch. A witch the maze was absolutely enamored with, if the way it kept reaching out to touch her was anything to go by.

“Come on,” I muttered. “I was just being nice.”

The stalks parted, curved inward, and funneled the path until there was no space left to go without stepping closer.

Aven swallowed. “It likes us together.”

“I noticed.”

The maze shifted again, the ground nudging our feet until the toes of our shoes knocked. Outwardly, I glared at every sun-drenched leaf my eyes landed on, but on the inside, I was an unorganized mess of feelings. Too many. Alarm, distress, intrigue, anticipation. What I couldn’t deny: I liked the feel of Aven in my hands—but I didn’t appreciate being coerced into it.

Her laugh was nervous, but she hadn’t made a move to step away. “I don’t think it understands boundaries.”

“It understands enough,” I countered, letting my voice carry.

I was keenly aware of every inch between us—mainly the lack of them. The damn corn leaned in again, brushing my back and her shoulders. The sound was approving, pleased, and entirely inappropriate. I exhaled through my teeth. Who knew corn was such a fucking matchmaker?

“Fine!” I snapped. “You win. But if you try to shove us any closer⁠—”

It did shove. Just a little, but hard. Enough that Aven’s forehead bumped my collarbone and she was forced to grab at my shirt to stay upright. Enough that my arms came up to wrap around her without permission from her or my brain. The stalks finally settled. Satisfied.

I glared down at the top of Aven’s head and then at the corn, my jaw clenched so tight it would break if I were alive.

“...I hate autumn,” I muttered, but couldn’t bring myself to let go.

I wasn’t sure how long we stood like that, but we were at a stalemate. The stalks didn’t move again, and so neither did we. Where would we go? It felt like the maze was holding its breath. It bowed inward, like ribs encasing us, and the damn stalks kept rubbing against my shoulders. Very soft. Very insistent.

The ground beneath our feet went uneven, sloped so that if either of us shifted, it would tip us together again. Escape was futile. Aven felt warm against me—too warm. Too real. It was impossible, and yet I hadn’t felt anything like it in seventy years.

I cleared my throat. “You can let go.”

Please don’t, I almost called right after, but I managed not to embarrass myself. As if she heard my silent plea, she didn’t. At least, not immediately.

“I know,” she answered quietly, after a few moments had passed. “I’m just assessing.”

Well, the longer she stood there, the harder it was for me to get my arms to agree to release her. I didn’t appreciate my own body committing mutiny like this.

“Assess faster.”

She huffed a small laugh against my chest, and the sound vibrated all the way through me. Oh boy. That did not make things any easier. She eased back, carefully, until there was a narrow breath of space between us, and the maze rustled again.

“No,” I barked at it. “Don’t you fucking pout.”

The corn responded by moving again. Behind both of us, stalks knitted together, their leaves overlapping until there was no visible seam. Its plan was obvious, but I refused to give in.

Aven glanced around and then back up at me with a concentrated frown. “It’s herding.”