Page 13 of Hexed, Vexed, & Undersexed

I gulp.

I guess that ‘I love meat’ comment would have been fine.

“I’ll follow you,” I whisper, not trusting myself to say more.

Preston just nods and saunters off.

I’m fucked—whether literally or figuratively, I still haven’t figured out.

* * *

The studio is located in the heart of downtown Boston. I try not to cringe at all the noise and people. Danvers gets a lot of tourism, but it’s never overrun—except during Halloween. Which doesn’t really bother me because I’m always in the woods with my coven celebrating Samhain privately. I’m an introverted witch and prefer reading spell books to mingling with others.

That could be why we’re shriveling into tiny specks, my ovaries snark.

Goddess, my reproductive organs are mouthy as fuck.

Shut up, you tramps! You can’t have the one guy we want, anyway!

I stomp after Preston in a pissy-ass mood as he leads me inside the studio.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly in response to my petulant antics.

“I would be better if we could ‘have relations,’” I mutter in disgust.

“Me, too,” Preston says with such heartfelt emphasis, it eases some of my disappointment. “But this is important to you, I can tell. You don’t strike me as the ‘competitive’ type. There’s a reason you want to win and I’m not going to ruin that for you.”

I feel my heart stutter at his words. . . and melt in a puddle at his feet.

Is he trying to destroy me?!

“So, where to first?” I ask in distraction.

“I’ll give you a tour as we walk to the prop room. This way.”

Preston points out various rooms and the people in them. All wave cheerfully. I catch glimpses of an enormous stage illuminated by bright lights, the backdrop a cozy fall scene. Eventually, he steers me into a large room that looks like a costume store.

“Welcome to the Prop Shop!” he booms.

“Wow, my gram would have a field day in this place. Is there anything it doesn’t have?”

“I’m convinced it has everything. Ah, here’s Peter. Peter, this is Evanora. Nora, this is Peter the Prop Shop Proprietor.”

I guffaw at the tongue twister.

“Try saying that three times fast! It’s worse than ‘peter eater’ or whatever that other one is. . .”

I trail off when Preston gives me a strange look until I realize the innuendo in my words. I try not to roll my eyes. He must be as undersexed as I am if that’s where his thoughts are taking him. Good thing Peter is here since he’s keeping any more ‘peter eating’ comments at bay.

“It’s nice to meet you, Evanora—or should I sayCrystal Moon?”

I groan at the reminder of the heinous name.

“Please, don’t call me that,” I moan dramatically, and Peter chuckles.

“Better get used to it. So, I have you down for a broom and a cat—the rest is all hair and makeup.”

“Er, okay,” I say politely, wondering what ‘the rest’ entails.