Page 27 of A Witch in Notting Hill

Willow

P art of executing a successful spell was staying focused, which was becoming increasingly more challenging with Oliver in the vicinity.

Especially on the other side of a glass wall, where I could just make out the outline of his broad shoulders and the wave of his hair as he pushed it behind his ears.

The truth was, I hadn’t focused on much of anything since that night on the isle. Every glimpse I got of Oliver’s personality that went beneath the surface pulled me like a magnet, further and further from the point of the quest.

I was drifting away from the shore with every stolen moment, and I was rapidly losing sight of my life raft. Pretty soon, I’d be flailing in the middle of the ocean with nothing to save me but his strong hands and his green-gray eyes and the sound of his voice in—

Stop it, Willow. I shook out my shoulders and turned my attention back to the pendulum, trying desperately to get myself back on track. I’d lost the past few weeks to daydreams of Oliver—I couldn’t lose this, too.

The pendulum hung proudly in its glass box, still as a statue, reflecting the dim light around the room like sunbeams. The Orientation spell was one I knew by heart, as my grandmother taught it to me and Ivy when we were finally old enough to go out and about in the city on our own.

Only, back then, we used to use Granny Annie’s old locket or tattered flags on hot dog carts instead of centuries-old pendulums behind museum glass.

Still, the phrase was familiar on my tongue.

All I had to do was channel all my energy into making the pendulum move.

Make the pendulum and the universe believe I meant what I said, believe I had the conviction necessary to cast a spell.

Was confident in my craft. Focused. Intentional.

Swing, swing,

Lead the way.

Point to where

I’m not astray.

North, south,

East, or west,

Show me a sign

And I’ll do the rest.

T he pendulum drifted only slightly, like there’d been little more than a gentle breeze.

I mumbled the words again, with my eyes closed, envisioning the pendulum swinging hard in whatever direction I was meant to go.

I knew this spell. This was an easy spell.

There was no reason for this not to work.

Unless . . . there was.

When I opened my eyes, the pendulum was in the far corner of the box. Only, as Oliver moved on the other side of the glass, pacing the floor with his head down, the pendulum moved with him. Followed him. Swung slowly back and forth as he walked, tracing his path.

Come on , I mumbled, willing it to work with me. Show me the sign.

All at once Oliver stopped... and the pendulum stopped. You’ve got to be kidding me.

I whispered the spell again, trying for even more conviction. Eyes closed, seeing the pendulum pointing the way, showing me the direction of the river, leading me one step closer to transforming Vera back into a person. Said it two more times for good measure. Begged, even.

When I opened my eyes again, it was pointing straight ahead. Northwest. Nearly horizontal. Right at the center of Oliver’s back.

In college, I took a psychology course and learned about confirmation bias.

Learned what it means to look for information that supports existing beliefs.

And I couldn’t stop wondering if that was what was happening here.

Was the pendulum actually pointing to Oliver, or did I want the pendulum to be pointing to Oliver?

Surely it could have been swinging back and forth in the direction of a flowing river, couldn’t it?

Only, the thought alone rang the gong of disappointment so hard it rattled through my skull. Something in this building must have altered my brain chemistry, because there was no way I was actually hoping the universe was giving me a sign that Oliver Hadley was the way to go.

It didn’t matter that he was gorgeous, and thoughtful, and protective, and that just being near him made me feel like anything could happen, magic or otherwise. What mattered was that we were from entirely different worlds and his didn’t include magic beyond his day job, and that about said it all.

Though I couldn’t even lie to myself and pretend that I hadn’t watched the pendulum trace his path with a dangerous bubble of hope in my chest. But reality came crashing in as soon as Lola turned around, and the pendulum dropped right back to its resting position.

She tapped on the glass, then made a wrap it up motion with her index finger. It looked like Minho and Oliver were talking to someone, undoubtedly stalling, so I had to get out of there. Last I saw, the pendulum was pointing northwest, so that would be our guide.

Overthinking would be the kiss of death, and we had to keep moving.

I didn’t have time to wonder whether the universe wanted me to step further into the orbit of an incompatible man.

No matter how gorgeous, how contemplative and brooding.

No matter what my name sounded like in his accent; no matter how he looked at me through his dark lashes like we were the only two people in any room.

No matter how much I wanted to.

“Did you get what you needed?” Lola asked as soon as I rounded the corner. “The lads are causing a bit of a scene trying to stall and I think we need to leg it out of here before things get any worse.”

“We’re going northwest,” I confirmed. “But right now, we’re just going anywhere but here. That guy doesn’t look happy, and I don’t trust Oliver with someone looking at him like that.”

“Bloody hell,” Lola said, looking back at the guy and Oliver, now chest to chest like two idiots in this quirky museum.

“Let’s make a break for it.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me in the direction of Oliver and Min, calling “Excuse me, sorry, excuse me, sorry,” to the people we brushed by in our hurry to get out.

“Time to go,” she said, intercepting the men at the top of the stairs and ushering them toward the door.

“Not with the mouth on this bloke,” Oliver was saying, shaking his arm free from Lola’s grip.

“Ol, come on,” she said. “All you were meant to do was stall. No one asked for a fight.”

“That was before he started running his mouth about Willow,” he said, and I froze where I stood. “Telling his mates he thought he saw her, talking shite to me and Min trying to get by. Saying she needed a real man, like.”

“He said that?” Lola asked. “Ew. Why did he think you two even knew her?” Thank god for Lola, because she was asking all the questions that were stuck in my throat.

“I guess he thought we were her security,” he said. His voice was rough, scraped. Something I shouldn’t have found impossibly sexy, especially in that moment. “We just told him someone was busy in that room and he could go in in a minute, and things just, they escalated.”

“Since when do you have confrontations with strange blokes in public places?” she asked.

He looked at me with such intensity I was certain there would be a shadow on the floor when I stepped away. The shape of my body, seared into the carpet.

“Since I’ve had something to give a shit about,” he said eventually, dropping his voice to something low and sultry. Like he wasn’t talking to Lola at all.

“Well, if you don’t mind, can you give a shit outside before we cause any more of a scene?” she said, looking back and forth between us but fortunately sparing us the commentary.

Oliver raised his hands above his head, letting Lola shove him out the door. I was the thing Oliver gave a shit about? Why hadn’t he given a shit about anything before? And why me ? It was no secret we’d be terrible for each other in the long run. And the short run, quite frankly.

Not that that changed how I was beginning to feel about him at all. But surely he had a better grasp on his emotional state than I did, didn’t he? I didn’t really have him pegged as the type to follow his heart instead of his head.

So many conflicting thoughts pinballed through my head, it made my teeth ache. I was losing track of which way was up, caught on the edge of a landslide riddled with caution signs screaming MUTUAL DESTRUCTION and TURN BACK .

But out on the sidewalk, watching Oliver’s breathing return to normal as he looked me over, clocked that I was okay, I couldn’t help but take another step toward the edge.

“Thank you for that,” I said, touching my fingertips to his forearm. Letting them linger. “When you said you’d protect me from the fans, I didn’t quite expect you’d go toe-to-toe with them. I’m sure that’s not at all in your job description.”

“Willow, we are so beyond my job description.”

The heat that spread through my body at the sound of those words was another warning sign, and I tried to listen. Tried to put some space between us. If I kept this up, there were going to be consequences.

And right now, those consequences were coming in the form of squawking birds.

“What the hell?” Lola asked, turning her face toward the sky only to quickly lower it into her elbow. “Where did all these birds come from?”

It wasn’t quite Alfred Hitchcock, but it sure as hell wasn’t normal. A whole flock circled lower and lower, fluttering through the trees lining the sidewalk and screaming like it was end of days.

“Jesus,” Minho said, trying to look up and flinching away.

“Come on.” Oliver grabbed my hand, pulling me in the direction of the Tube stop. “Min, Lola, let’s go.”

I shouldn’t have loved the feeling of my hand in his. Shouldn’t have loved the bossiness in his tone as he made the move to get us out of there. Especially since it only seemed to make the birds squawk louder. Fly lower.

By the time we ducked into the Tube station, they finally swooped back up into the sky, and we doubled over to take deep, heaving breaths.

“What the fuck was that?” Oliver asked, leaning over with his hands on his knees and breathing slowly. I watched his back expand with every breath, caught a glimpse of a gold chain just beneath his collar.