Page 39 of Charmed, I'm Sure

It’s not fair. The morning light shouldn’t make him look this effortless, and he shouldn’t smell like roasted sugar almonds and sunshine. He shouldn’t remember my coffee order or smile at me like I’m his entire existence. He should hate me for every prank I’ve pulled, yet he loves them.

He studies me, head tilting slightly. “You okay?”

I nod quickly, gripping my coffee cup tightly. “Fine.”

He steps closer, and I can feel the weight of whateverhe’s about to say, whatever feeling is shining just a little too brightly in those warm brown eyes. I can feel my magic rising to meet him, almost reaching out to him as he comes to a stop right in front of me. It’s too much. Too good. Too kind. I can’t let myself get used to it. I can’t—

“I should get some supplies from Elva’s,” I blurt, whirling on my heel.

“Alright, let’s go then.” He swoops his coffee from the table, grabbing the brown paper bag in the process. “We can eat the cinnamon rolls on the way there.”

“You…you don’t have to come.”

“I know Bells, but I want to.”

I suck in a breath. Only one person has ever called me Bells, and that’s Elora. Even my parents only call me Bellamy. I was never given a nickname by them.

“Don’t call me that,” I snap. “Only Elora calls me that.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, the bag dangling from them as he nods slowly.

“Alright, that’s okay. Trouble it is.”

I nod my head sharply and storm down the cobblestone path. I want him to call me Bells, but that’s too personal. Too close.

He doesn’t say a word as he follows behind me,silently being there, a comfort that he will never know how much that means to me. Outside of Nyx, I’ve never had someone justbethere for me. It’s either with judgement, with intention, or with need. Never just to be there.

Shaking my head, attempting to dislodge these feelings and thoughts, I tuck my head, powering towards the shop. I don’t actually need anything. Sure, I can find something so it doesn’t seem weird, but I needed to get away. He’s getting too close.

The Charm & Chisel, our faerie-owned crystal & altar shop, comes into view. It’s a crooked little cottage with stained glass windows, steps lined with jars full of dried petals, and a hand-painted sign swinging above the door.Although I don’t think of this place normally, today it’s my sanctuary. Elva has a no shifter policy due to all the breakables in her shop. She doesn’t want any of them to “wolf out” in the middle of her shop. Which is exactly why I picked it. I’m sure I can find a crystal to buy to make it legit. I just need time to gather myself, build the wall back up, and then face him again, renewed.

I come to a stop in front of the door, swinging around to face a startled Miles. “Sorry, Elva has a no shifter policy.” I toss out a shrug, all fake nonchalance, like I hadn’t dragged him here just to leave him standing on the doorstep. “You can’t come inside. Seems the walk was a waste of your time, sorry.”

“It might have been.” He concedes with a little tilt of his head, like he’s trying to read me. “But if this was just a ploy to ditch me at the door, I’ll still take it. Wasting my time with you never really feels like a waste. And I can still walk you all the way to the door–and hold it open for you.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I don’t. Whispering the words of the hex under my breath, hoping he doesn’t see what I’m doing. Everything hasn’t gone according to plan so far, but hopefully this will.

Twisting around, his hand has just circled around the doorknob of the shop when I hear it.MOO.

Biting my lip between my teeth, I do everything I can not to burst out laughing. I can almost feel his shock, as if it’s a tangible thing in the air. I turn to face him. He’s frozen mid-step, his shoe giving anothermooas he plants his foot.

He stares down at it, bewildered, then looks up at me.

I’m trying not to laugh. I really am. But, I can feel my cheeks burning as I strain to control them.

“Moo?”

“Moo,” I say, utterly deadpan. “It’s your emotional support shoe now.”

He looks from the shoe to my burning cheeks and back again. “I can’t tell if this is a punishment or a gift.”

Before I can even reply, a trio of tiny fae perched on the shop’s windowsill cackle in delight. One of them is literally fanning herself with a leaf, her wings fluttering.

“Such a delight,” she says. “Did you see him smiling at herwith such adoration?”

“It’s swoon-worthy for sure,” another says, a blush blooming on her cheeks. “It even comes with glittery pink hair and questionable footwear.”

The older third faerie cuts her eyes at me. “Better claim that one, witchling,” she calls to me. “Before some thirsty vampire does.”