Page 10 of How Not to Hex a Gentleman (Witches of Edinburgh)

Chapter Ten

KENNEDY

T he next morning, checking in for school goes without a hitch and at least that's settled. Most of my classes are independent study, which gives me the freedom to do more research on this whole magic thing. Olivia gave us a starting point, mentioning the way the magic bonds us together, but I need more.

We wouldn't be given this mark and given this power if it didn't mean something. It's not enough that I know it bonds us. I need to know for what reason and what it means for us, but today, after leafing through half a dozen books, I don't feel any better. The number of warnings I've read between the lines are staggering. While many of these books talk about witches as women who were misunderstood, it doesn't take away the fact that someone was always on the opposing side of magic. Maybe I shouldn't have pulled out that last fairytale book for information, but I had to look somewhere, and according to the story, every good magical being ever always has an evil one trying to steal its powers. How's that for something to worry about?

My aunt's warnings got so much louder after reading that book that I slammed it shut and left it behind, hoping a walk would help me clear my head.

By the time I make it back to the apartment, I'm exhausted. Mostly mentally, but also physically because Edinburgh is hilly. I don't think I was prepared for just how much. The city seems to be built on top of itself, and every street from the Old Town either runs down or up from the center of it. Even when the incline or decline isn't major, my body can tell. As hard as walking is, I'm still quite enjoying its glorious charm. The part where I definitely need to up my cardio workouts just adds to it.

My phone buzzes just as I reach the door to our apartment, and I pull it out to see a new group chat has been created, expertly named by Parker as "Witch Please!" with a few witchy emojis added in. I give myself a moment to grin at it, when no one is watching, and shut the door behind me, leaning against it as I read the messages. Both girls texted to say they'll be home within the hour, so I have the apartment to myself for the first time.

My mind is already coming up with lists of things that need to be done. I haven't really unpacked yet and I need to make a list of groceries we'll need to eventually get. I don't think the fridge is going to magically restock itself, although, wouldn't that be helpful? Also, I will need to clean up?—

The knock on the door makes me freeze, a dozen bad scenarios immediately coming to mind. I don't know anyone who would be casually dropping by. After reading about evil witches sucking the magic and souls of good witches, I am definitely not in a good place to be opening that door—but no, I refuse to live in the same mindset as my aunt, so I need to be better than this fear.

Get a grip, Kennedy, and handle it like a woman.

I rip the door open with a lot more force than I intend, and it nearly takes me with it. When I lift my eyes, a range of emotions rush through me, settling on annoyance. "You!" I glare at the same guy who'd run me over twice already. "Come to finish the job?"

He stares at me for a few seconds, as if unsure of how to take my words before he chuckles. "Hello to you too, neighbor. Do you greet everyone in such a hostile manner?" His voice sends an array of goosebumps over my skin, so I turn up the offensive immediately.

"Just you." I don't hesitate and his grin grows wider. "What do you want?" I ask, placing my hand on my hip, the other gripping the doorknob. It's annoying how good he looks, standing on the dimly lit landing. His hair is tousled by the Edinburgh wind and I guess it started raining after I came inside because a few drops are still clinging to the end of the strands. His brown coat looks tailored to him and fits way too nicely over his tall frame. Before I allow my eyes to wander any farther, I stop myself.

Why am I noticing his body?

I meet his eyes and see that he did not miss me blatantly checking him out.

"You're dripping in my doorway. Say what you need to say and leave." I'm so flustered I stay on the offensive and he makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh, which actually makes me feel hotter than before and I hope my face isn't betraying me too much.

"I came to apologize for earlier. Is your phone okay?"

"It's fine. Thanks," I mumble, surprised he's apologizing again. "If you'll excuse me—" I start to shut the door, but he stops me with a hand.

"Here." His other hand is holding a piece of paper and I stare at it as if it might bite me.

"What is it?" My eyes narrow with suspicion, as if the paper is going to attack me.

"Why don't you take it and check?" He waves it at me a little, raising an eyebrow.

"Because I don't want to get a paper cut or contract contact poisoning?" I reply and he blinks at me, as I'm speaking a different language.

"What does that even mean?"

"That you are a hazard to my health, so who knows what's on that paper." I fold my arms over my chest and this time he does chuckle. Albeit a bit frustrated, like he's not quite sure what to make of me.

"You're ridiculous." He sighs.

"Sure, you bulldoze over me twice and I'm the ridiculous one."

"Just take the paper already."

For some reason, I do. It's folded once and when I unfold it, it looks like one of those old carnival tickets, with the big block letters on top, and a twisty frame around the edges, but it's hand drawn and it says, "Bennett's IOU" on top.

"What is this?" I ask, scanning it quickly before my eyes meet his again. I swear he looks a little sheepish as he tucks his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

"It's a coupon, for you. I owe you a favor. Or anything you want."

I glance down at it again and read the fine print below the large letters.

Admit One. This ticket entitles the bearer to one favor, free of charge. Presented by Bennett MacKay. No expiration date.

"Why?"

"Because I was rude in not helping you with the suitcases and I think it requires more than an apology to pay for my crimes." He’s looking a little sheepish and a whole lot of adorable. My cold exterior begins to melt, but I freeze it back up before I do something crazy like return his smile.

"You're trying to buy my forgiveness?"

"No, I'm working for it."

Well, I can't argue with that. I won't admit this, but this is actually quite adorable. The way he's fidgeting in place and pushing at the hair falling into his eyes every now and then—it's a whole package. It would be very easy to forgive him right here and right now, but I'm stubborn. And still too annoyed.

Which is what causes me to say what I do next. "Do I make you wash the baseboards or do my laundry for a month?" My lips curl up in a tiny smile as his eyes round in response. He looks quite concerned at what he might've gotten himself into.

I surprise both of us when I laugh. His whole body jerks at the sound, his eyes flying up to meet mine, as he stares at me with what I can only describe as awe. Then, after a moment, something changes in his gaze and I forget what we were talking about because he's looking at my mouth and I suddenly can't think straight. I automatically lick my lips and his gaze jerks to mine, his eyes unguarded for just a moment. It's enough to raise my temperature by twenty degrees and I think I need to see a doctor immediately because that is not a typical response. Something must be wrong with me.

Bennett clears his throat and I shake myself mentally. "Anything you want," he says, his voice much quieter now and I can't seem to look away from his darkening gaze.

It hits me all over again just how attractive he is and how his voice is sending pleasant tingles down my back. I'm sweating in my sweater and I need to put a stop to this now before I'm the one making a fool out of myself.

"I'll think on it," I say, waving the ticket at him. I take a tiny step back and he takes that as his cue to move toward the stairs that lead up to his apartment.

"You do that," he says before giving me a quick once over and swallowing hard. When his eyes meet mine again he adds, "Would it be too much to ask—could I—" He runs a hand over his hair, sending it into more disarray before he rubs his palm over the back of his neck. "What's your name?"

The question is barely a whisper and I realize I never told him. He'd introduced himself and I—I was too annoyed to be polite.

For a moment, I want to hold onto it for a bit longer, but there's something in his eyes that pulls at me, and I get the urge to simply reply. "Kennedy."

The grin he sends my way is blinding. I think he'll say something else, but then he turns and rushes up the stairs. I close the door slowly and then turn and lean against it, like I need it to prop me up. What the heck was that?

BENNETT

Kennedy.

Her name is a sweet melody on repeat and I’m grinning like a fool any time I think of it. It feels like I've won something precious and it makes me feel lightheaded. Then that's overshadowed by what I did. Maybe the whole ticket thing was a bad idea. I've been tossing this around my head since yesterday. Maybe I overdid it. My brain is thinking…she must find me nuts. Who does something so random? I drew her a ticket. What was I thinking? I probably scared her into never talking to me again.

Which would be a serious problem considering I want her to talk to me again.

There's something incredibly fascinating about Kennedy. Yes, she's beautiful. Anyone can see that. With her wavy brown hair that is a little wild due to the humidity to her hazel eyes that seem to be glaring at me perpetually. The slightly flushed cheeks as if she's been walking just a tad too fast. And that mouth. I think I'm going to have dreams about that mouth for the rest of my life. When she smiled at me, I thought I was having an out-of-body experience.

Yet, it's not just the physical aspects of her. There's something in her eyes, the kind of intelligence that I find very attractive. She seems like the kind of a person who would meet you on your level and then push you beyond your comfort zone, which is intimidating in the best kind of way.

I want to know more about her, I want to know everything about her.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text, and typically I don't touch it when I'm in the middle of research, but I'm not doing anything. It's been three hours and I think I'm still reading the same page.

Did you scare her away?

Nicholas texts and I roll my eyes.

The number you have reached is no longer in service.

I text back.

Resubscribe.

Nicholas replies immediately.

Stop being a numpty and come over for dinner.

Is that so you and Lana can make fun of me some more? Also, stop picking up weird Scottish slang.

Absolutely not. And you Scotts don't hold monopoly on numpty. It's perfect for you. Dumb but in a cute way.

I roll my eyes. One, he absolutely is. And two, sometimes his vocabulary makes me question our friendship—but not really.

It's been nearly two weeks since we've had dinner together, the three of us, and I would really enjoy it, but I'm not sure I will enjoy putting myself in the position of being made fun of.

Lana has never seen you like a girl. She's fascinated.

Nicholas has no problem double-texting. I groan. Why did he have to tell Lana? She'll be all over this now, meddling in that annoying way teenagers do.

While I would typically endure the torture for the sake of being the better brother, I actually have plans.

I text back, glancing at the time. I did promise a student to help them with a project and we're meeting in less than an hour.

Is it with your building mate? Lana wants to know.

It is not. Now leave me alone.

If only I could.

I chuckle and drop the phone next to me on the sofa before I lean back and stare at the white ceiling and the embedded crown molding lining the top. My flat has always been a place of refuge for me. I found it by sheer luck three years ago and haven't wanted to move since. The building is old and carries much history within its walls. The two-bedroom setup is perfect since it means I can have an office. The living room is small with the bay windows taking up much of the wall space, but it brings in the most beautiful sunrise over the tops of some of the buildings. Oftentimes, I sit on the sofa, gazing out the window, my mind lost in scenarios of a time before my own.

Right now, it doesn't feel like a refuge though. Mostly because I keep thinking about the girl downstairs, with her glaring eyes and wild hair that seems like a contrast to her perfectly put-together persona.

Nicholas is right; I haven't liked anyone in a long time. It takes me a while to let my walls down to give anyone a chance on a romantic scale, and girls usually move on before I do. I may have been told I suck at dating a time or ten. It's not like I don't want to show affection. I actually want to show it pretty badly. There is also that fear of people leaving me when they get to know me that I can't quite turn off. I've been told more than once that I'm "too much" for some. So I tone it down, to the point of a near shutdown and then I'm "uninterested" or "unfeeling," which puts me firmly in the "I don't date" category.

With Kennedy, it just feels different. I barely know anything about her, but I actually have the urge to bring some of my walls down and try . Not that she wants anything to do with me. I don't know what I expected. Her being so amused by the ticket that she uses it immediately? I really need to learn how to curb my expectations, but it's really hard when I can't even understand this pull I feel toward her, which is why I'm being a sadsack of emotions, moping the day away instead of working on my project.

My phone buzzes on the sofa and I grab it to turn off the reminder. Standing, I run a hand over my stomach, tugging at my green jumper before I head for the door. If I'm useful to someone else maybe this meeting will help me take my mind off things.