Page 42 of How to Flirt with a Witch

She gets in before I can argue, the sound of the slamming door carrying down the quiet street. Her words hang in the chilly night air—a final warning.

It feels like someone stomped on my chest. It’s over, then. A brief, exciting spell of curse-hunting with Natalie, done in the span of an afternoon.

But why? What’s so dangerous, and who is she afraid of?

As she drives away, I’m left standing in the fading glow of her tail lights, the slow cooker’s cold metal pressed between my hands, my mind swirling with more questions than when she picked me up.

Chapter 11

Auld Lang Syne

On New Year’s Eve,I meet Clayton and my other university friends to celebrate, still bitter about Natalie’s rejection.

The group chose a restaurant that serves pitchers of beer and sangria, which means the others who are nineteen can order alcohol, and those of us who are eighteen can pour some into our cups when the servers aren’t looking. It’s terrible and probably a flaw that’ll end in the restaurant being shut down, but nobody cares. They’re all just happy to be allowed to drink together in a place that isn’t a dorm.

I haven’t texted Natalie since our thrift shopping day, and she hasn’t texted me either. She doesn’t want to be involved with me, so fine. I won’t force my company onto her—and I guess she doesn’t care that my ability to sense curses could be useful. Totally her loss.

Instead, I’m seated at the end of a long row of four tables pushed together, bristling as Clayton leans too close, trying to avert my gaze from Mo and a girl named Laura groping each other in the booth seat across from us.

It’s not even nine. Can I make it to midnight?

“Those two need to get a room,” Clayton shouts in my ear.

“Yeah,” I say automatically. I sip my sangria, the bittersweet taste prickling my tongue.

“They were talking about kissing at midnight.” He looks at me as if hoping this will suddenly give me an idea.

“I guess that is a thing,” I say. I’ve never done it because my relationship with Crystal only lasted the fall of Grade 10, and my relationship with Mansplainy Matt spanned from last February until June—basically from when he asked me to grad until grad was over and we both realized we didn’t like each other all that much. “I normally just sing Auld Lang Syne and call it a night.”

“What’s that?”

“Auld Lang Syne? The song to bid farewell to the old year?”

“Oh.” He gives a lopsided smile. “Well, both traditions are good.”

I tug my cardigan closed over my top, which is low cut, tight, and mostly black lace. If I’d known Clayton’s flirting would become more shameless with each drink, I would’ve dressed frumpy tonight.

I pretend to focus on the conversation Johnny, Andrea, and the rest of the group are having. Clayton stays in my periphery, his expression soft, like he’s trying to look sweet and romantic.

“So, Laura, what are you studying?” I ask. The restaurant is so loud that I have to yell.

She peels away from Mo. She’s pale and curvy with raven hair and goth makeup, wearing a tiny black corset that pushes up her breasts so they brush the table. A turquoise pendant catches the light in her cleavage. “It’s Aura, actually.”

Heat burns in my cheeks. Why can’t I make it through the most basic conversation without doing something awkward? “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re not the first. And I’m studying Wicca.”

Any standard response dies on my lips. “What?”

Even Clayton pries his gaze away from me to look at her. “Isn’t that witchcraft?”

Aura’s blue eyes dart between us, taking in our reactions, and a smile spreads across her face. “Yes. I own a shop.”

I try to picture Mo with his preppy polo shirt and well-groomed facial hair walking into a Wiccan shop. “How did you two meet?”

“At a rave,” Mo says, making gooey eyes at her. I’ve never seen him like this. I’ve watched girls flirt with him several times since we met, but he’s never shown interest in anyone until now. Apparently, goths are his type.

“What do you sell at the shop?” I ask.