Page 61 of Charmed, I'm Sure
“Honestly, you are too easy to rile up. I’ve never in my life laughed this hard, nor have I actually enjoyed someone’s company. Thanks for that,” she says as she wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater.
I just stare at her. I’m pretty sure that I need to call Elora, or someone. I glance over to Nyx who is blinking slowly at her with his head tilted. Even he seems concerned.
“Bellamy…you alright?”
“Yeah, why?”
I frown as I shrug my shoulders. “No reason. So, does that mean I don’t need a costume or…”
She waves her hand. “You don’t need a costume. But, there will be a lot of interesting events tomorrow.Halloween isn’t the same here.”
“We have Samhain back home, but we don’t have magic or vampires.”
She chuckles. “Fair enough.”
Her chuckle lingers in the air like the smoke of her incense, soft and warm and way too rare. I don’t think she even realizes how much she’s giving away in this moment. She looks so different when she forgets to keep her walls up. There’s a certain softness in her unguardedness. I don’t know that anyone has seen this, maybe only Elora.
As for me? I should be tearing through Ivora’s diary, focused solely on the curse, on the puzzle that is keeping me awake at night. But all I can think about right now is how beautiful she is with cheeks warmed from happiness instead of anger. And for the first time since I came to Pumpkinridge, I finally feel hope that she’ll accept me.
Because, maybe, just maybe, I’ll get to hear her laugh again.
Chapter Twenty
Love at First Fright
Bellamy
The whole town smells like cinnamon and pumpkin spice. Which would be delightful if I wasn’t trying my hardest to hate every second of it. The cobblestone streets are glowing with lanterns, their light seeming to bounce in time with the fiddle music spilling out of the square. The fae have strung enchanting lights that mimic the musical notes and pulse in time with the beats.
Every few steps you are either showered in confetti, candy, or small frogs. It’s sure to give you a jump scare. There is even the smell of roasted almonds, caramel popcorn, and apple pie floating through the air no matter which direction you move through town.
I tell myself I came down here to make sure no idiot tries to summon a demon in the bobbing-for-apples tub again this year. Not because I actually enjoy the Samhain festival.
Nyx disagrees as he taps his tail against me. He rolls his eyes from where he’s laying across my shoulders, Lady Bandit peeks her head out from my over-the-shoulder bag. I never imagined I would be toting around a fox and a racoon in my life, but here I am. We are weaving through the crowds as I scrunch my nose at the couples arm-in-arm.
“You want that, don’t pretend you don’t.” Nyx hums.
“Wipe that look off your whiskers,” I mutter. “I’m here as the most powerful witch. I have to keep these idiots fromsummoning something we aren’t ready for.”
He yawns wide enough I can see his entire mouth and promptly hops onto a barrel of candied apples, ignoring the vendor’s protests. Of course he does.
Rolling my eyes, I continue down the street. Children run past in costumes that sparkle and change colors every few seconds—seems the fae have been extra busy this year with the charms. Parents are trailing behind them as they sip their spiced apple ciders and talk amongst themselves, smiling proudly at their children. A sentiment I wish I could have experienced, at least once in my life.
And then there’s Miles.
He’s standing there, right in the center of the festival chaos, looking far too much like a golden retriever, happy to exist. His bed hair is tamed, shirt annoyingly fitted, and his grin wide enough to split his face in two. His dimple is on full display and there is a gaggle of girls captivated by it as they fan themselves. He’s practically glowing beneath the lantern’s light, as if they want to ensure I see him.
When he spots me, he turns towards me, and if we were in a movie I swear the theme song for the intended lovers would start here. The crowd parts—why is everyone suddenly moving out of the way?—as he moves towards me. It’s as if he’s in slow motion. Of course the confetti would pop when he comes to a stop in front of me.
“Dog Boy,” I say in greeting. “I see you survived the Costumegate.”
He holds his arms out, ruffle sleeves on full display, as he presents himself on a stage in front of the town of Pumpkinridge. He’s wearing a cape. A literal cape. Who gave him a cape? And—saints save me—is that a foam sword?
“Behold,” he declares, his voice deeper than normal, with a mock seriousness that is far too rehearsed. “Sir Miles ofPumpkinridge. Defender of small towns, wielder of ghost cupcakes, and protector of a witch’s heart.”
From somewhere, I don’t even know if I want to know where, he pulls out a ghost cupcake, drops to one knee, and presents the cupcake to me with his head bowed and everything.
I roll my eyes as I shake my head, I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. Someone in the crowd gasps, but I can’t stop staring at this guy.