Page 26 of A Witch’s Guide to Surviving Halloween

The smile I give her in return is small, but after the week I’ve had, it’s the best I can muster.

It’s not that I don’t like Ellie. In fact, she’s one of my favorite people in town.

She’s strong, bubbly, and one of the most independent people I’ve ever met, without making me feel like I’m lesser for not being that way myself.

But talking to her is still a form of socialization, and I’m just . . . over it.

Thankfully, before I’m forced to make any more small talk, the lights around the square dim, and the opening music of Halloween Town blares from the speakers. I settle into my folding chair, nodding my head to the jazzy tune.

As the movie plays, I can’t help but occasionally sneak a peek over at Oliver at the end of the table.

The whole time, he’s completely absorbed in the film, eating spoonfuls of his chili and the occasional cinnamon sugar donut.

But when I catch him mouthing the words to Dylan’s scathing review of Halloween and Marnie’s iconic “Halloween is cool” rebuttal, complete with a sassy head bob and everything, I practically swoon.

I become very aware of the way the colors from the movie screen cast shadows across his face, highlighting the line of his jaw and the thick column of his neck.

My breath hitches as something stirs deep in my belly, in time for the magic to start stirring as well.

It bubbles between us, each pop sending sparks through the air, and I tear my eyes away from his as Oliver meets my gaze.

Instead, I direct my attention back to the movie and shove a palm full of popcorn into my mouth, swallowing it down along with my feelings that need to stay right where they are.

A brisk breeze blows through the crowd, cutting through my jacket and making me shiver.

Goose bumps rise along my skin until warmth creeps through the fabric, swaddling me like a heated blanket on a cold winter night.

The warmth is accompanied by a subtle sizzle of magic, and I glance at Oliver out of the corner of my eye, who’s covering quiet words with a fake cough.

This time, he doesn’t look my way, pointedly focusing on the movie, but his small knowing smile tells me he can feel my eyes on him and is refusing to acknowledge my scolding look.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing something as stupid as using magic two nights before Halloween to bring me comfort, especially not with all these people around.

But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me want to start kicking my feet and twirling my hair like a middle school girl talking to her crush in the hallway.

It feels so good to have someone take care of me without asking first if I’m okay, which has quickly become my least favorite question in the world.

To have someone notice my discomfort and take the initiative, rather than trying to convince me to do it myself.

So, I nuzzle down further into my jacket, allowing myself to enjoy the warmth and the attention while I can.

So long as the magic doesn’t see this small act as reason enough to respond, I might as well enjoy it.

About the time the kids find their way to Halloween Town and start exploring, I straighten in my chair and turn to Ellie. She gives me a questioning glance, noticing me scooting away from the table.

“Water,” I whisper, and she nods, happily returning her attention to the movie.

Without looking back, I make my way down the center aisle of the seats and back toward the long line of food trucks.

The lines have died down considerably now that the movie has started, but there are still a few people lingering here and there, grabbing a quick bite or drink.

I approach a hot chocolate truck near the end, one far enough in that it’s not visible from the outdoor theater.

The agreed meeting point for Oliver and me before we sneak off to find Lucy.

With a finger to my chin, I study the menu, trying to appear as if I can’t decide between the spiced Mexican hot chocolate or the mega chocolate.

The conglomeration comes with so many different toppings and drizzles that the never-ending list takes up four lines on the board.

Just the thought of it makes my stomach roil, and yet . . . I’m intrigued.

I stand there so long that the girl behind the cash register starts to eye me warily.

“Do you have any questions?” The way she asks it sounds as if she’d rather be asking if I’m going to order in this lifetime or the next.

“Um, yes . . .” My words trail off as I try to think of something to ask, as I scan the line of trucks, searching for a large form to come save me from this awkward interaction. “Are your . . . er, actually, was your Mexican hot chocolate made in Mexico?”

When the stunned woman in the truck blinks at me, I play back what I just said, and I decide it is, in fact, possible to die of humiliation. I stare at her open-mouthed, trying to decide if I should take the question back or if that would look even worse.

“We make all of our hot chocolates in the truck, ma’am,” the woman eventually answers.

I repress a sigh at myself. “Of course you do . . . obviously. Can I just get—Oh, crap!”

Around the corner of the food truck hall comes Stacy, staring at that damned clipboard.

“Maybe next time!” I squeak at the hot chocolate lady, and before I can tell if the look on her face is relief that she doesn’t have to answer any more questions or concern for my mental state, I dart between trucks.

I trip over lines of extension cords laid out across the ground, too busy checking over my shoulder to make sure the coordinator hasn’t seen me shirking my hostess duties.

I make a sharp turn, veering away from the trucks and toward town hall.

There’s a large statue of a man sitting atop a horse that looks out over the square from a distance.

Its base is so wide that three people could stand shoulder to shoulder behind it, and a person sitting in the gazebo wouldn’t even know they’re there.

I dart behind it, and after a moment, I peek around the corner to make sure an angry wedding coordinator hasn’t followed me.

“Did she see you?”

I jump, clamping a hand over my mouth to suppress a scream when I turn and find Oliver hovering over my shoulder.

“Don’t do that!” I press a palm to my chest to ease my racing heart, but he just laughs, his shoulders shaking with amusement.

Adrenaline rushes through my veins, causing a burst of giggles that make me sound like a sixteen-year-old sneaking off at night with her crush.

As opposed to a grown woman, who has every right to leave a movie night if she wants to.

I feel like I’m back in high school, reminded of the time Lucy talked me into cutting class.

This time, I won’t spend the whole time so anxious about the homework assignment I’d be missing that I can’t enjoy a minute of it.

The whole thing feels a bit ludicrous, and I realize how immature I’m being.

Sneaking off to avoid Stacy, like an overbearing parent.

I’m nearly thirty, not a teenager. But I have to admit .

. . I’m having fun. For the first time during this event, I’m actually enjoying myself and getting a taste of that mischievous side everyone should experience during Halloween.

I like the way Oliver brings that out in me and the way he feels like an escape from my socialization duties, rather than just another person to check off my list.

“Come on.” I smile at him, waving for him to follow me after one last look to make sure the coast is clear. “Lucy’s waiting.”