Page 2 of Sun and Stone (Elementally Yours #5)

2. An Awesome Night Begins

Fynn Callahan, the good Samaritan I just met, leads me through the bustling street. He seems to know where he's going, and I follow him inside to a restaurant bar in a daze.

He takes care of everything and soon the bartender sets down a shot glass in front of me.

I stare down at the shot glass, the amber liquid shimmering under the dim lighting of the hotel bar. Tequila, huh? All my one-night stands have started this way.

"Tequila? Are you trying to get me drunk?" I ask, quirking an eyebrow at Fynn. "What are your intentions, mister?"

He gives me a sympathetic smile. "No intentions. Thought you might need that first."

"You know what? You're absolutely right."

I don't hesitate to throw back the shot, feeling the familiar burn as it slides down my throat. I shudder slightly and notice my fingers are gripping the shot glass so tightly my knuckles are turning white.

Looks like I'm going to need more than one drink to calm down.

To distract myself, I glance around the bar. Where are we? Not a dive. The bar and adjoining restaurant are part of a hotel, since I can see the lobby and reception desk when I crane my neck. It’s a classic hotel bar, chic and tasteful yet impersonal with soft jazz music playing in the background.

Not sure why Fynn chose to bring me here. But there’s liquor, so I’m not complaining.

Fynn clears his throat. "Look, I have no idea what I'm supposed to say here. Maybe we should just drink in silence? We can, if you want. I just want you to know that even if it sounds impossible to let magic go, you will get through this. I did and so will you."

I hope so, even if I can't imagine coping right now. "Did you freak out too?"

He nods emphatically. "Oh, totally. Don't worry. Everyone handles it poorly. I was just as bad."

"Really, you cried all over a stranger on the street?"

"No, not exactly." He chuckles, a grimace crossing his face as he remembers. "At a movie theater when the lights dimmed before the show, I panicked and thought it was some kind of metaphor for my life. You know, the sun going down forever on the sun caster. I kept illuminating the theater and they couldn't start the movie. It's the only time I was ever politely asked to leave anywhere."

I laugh too, since it's hard to imagine him being kicked out for a disturbance. He has an open face that lights up whenever he smiles and he's kind to strangers who bump into him. Who could ever be mad at those sweet green eyes? He's adorable.

If I were in a different mood, I'd turn on the charm and let tequila do the rest.

Fynn drums his knuckles on the bar, his expression turning somber. "After so long trying to become a wizard, nobody wants to hear that it's never gonna happen. That it will be over soon."

No argument there. Even the words make me wince.

"I struggled," he continues. "I was depressed. And seeing that I was always an optimistic, cheerful person, nobody was really prepared or knew how to react to me not being so..."

“Sunny?” I quip, unable to resist the pun.

He nods, giving me a rueful smile. "Yeah."

It's easy to see why people were taken aback by a shift in his mood. With his warm complexion and bright, expressive eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles, Fynn radiates sunshine. No wonder sun magic attracted him. The thought of that light being extinguished makes me sad.

"But I had to go through it," he continues. "After all the years, energy, and money I spent trying to permanently gain magic, you're supposed to have a meltdown when that ends. It's life changing. Failing sucks. And there are so many questions that are hard to answer. What was the point of it all? What comes next? Who am I now?"

"Who am I without magic?" I whisper, twisting my scarf around my fingers.

I've been wondering about that very thing ever since I got the devastating news earlier. Magic has been the core of my identity for so long, an integral part of who I am. I'm the charming guy with the colorful scarves and a trick up my sleeve, because there's always some rock magic I love showing off. How am I supposed to go on if I lose something so vital?

"It's tough," he says. "I did mourn magic; I grieved the future I thought I was supposed to have. Those were some of the toughest months of my life. I wouldn't wish them on anyone. I'd hate to go through them again."

"But it got better?" I ask, crossing my fingers.

“Yes, after my perspective changed. When I kept focusing on everything I was missing by losing magic, it hurt. But then I realized magic was only one door closing. There was so much of the world still out there, a lot of it that I hadn't seen because I was busy chasing magic. I stopped feeling so terrible when I stopped focusing on what I lost and started exploring what I could have."

I frown slightly, mulling over his words. "That simple, huh?"

He shakes his head. "No. And trust me, I'm not expecting you to put on a happy face and see it my way tonight. I'd be more worried if you acted like everything was fine. Just keep an open mind in the future. There are some things that are just as amazing as magic. Ah, here's two of them now."

The bartender sets down two huge fishbowl glasses. They're filled to the brim with a creamy mixture, piled high with ice cream, chocolate syrup, and chocolate shavings. More dessert than drink.

"What the holy hell?" I murmur.

"Mudslides," the bartender announces with a proud grin. "Don't worry, they're stronger than they look."

Though I'm not a calorie counter, this drink must exceed my recommended daily allowance of anything for at least a week. My midsection is fuller than it was 20 years ago, and I can't just go wild on dessert… but Fynn's got a hopeful puppy-dog expression on his face, watching and waiting for me to try the drink.

And the bartender said it's strong. Fuck it.

I dive in. I close my eyes and take a long sip, letting the sweetness flood my mouth. Rich, creamy, and undeniably boozy. Damn, I cough slightly, because it is strong; stronger than I expected. I half wondered if the bartender was lying just to get me to drink it, but no, there's definitely vodka and maybe a creme liquor in there too.

The alcohol hasn't had enough time to work, so maybe it's the sudden sugar rush that has the tightness in my chest loosening. All the dismal things we were discussing seem a bit further away.

Fynn is already happily slurping away, and he beams at me after a long drink. "Good, huh?"

"Yeah, yummy…" If you like mountains of sugar with a side of diabetic coma.

"And alcoholic too," he adds. Okay, that part I do like.

"Am I missing something? How is this magical?" I ask, my skepticism evident.

"I didn't say it was magical. I said it's comparable to magic."

"Huh," I reply, taking another sip.

"Again, I’m not expecting you to agree."

"I might be convinced by the time I'm done with this thing," I quip.

The drink is alright. And I'll be tipsy by the end of it, so maybe everything won't seem so bad. But the company is what I enjoy most. Watching him drink his mudslide, his delight is already telegraphed on his open, expressive face, but he plays it up even more when he sees me looking.

Fynn savors each sip, his eyes fluttering shut in pure delight. The creamy, chocolatey concoction leaves a smear of whipped cream on the corner of his mouth. I find myself captivated by the way his tongue darts out to lick the remnants of whipped cream from his lips. Our gazes meet, and a spark shoots through me that has my heart fluttering in my chest.

“Mmmm.” He grins mischievously and lets out an exaggerated moan of pleasure.

The moment ends and I roll my eyes at his little display. Fynn practically cackles, his infectious laughter lighting up his whole face and making the corners of his eyes crinkle in delight. He’s adorable and it’s hard to stay upset when met with such genuine…. adorableness.

The drink works its magic, or whatever, and the time starts flying by. We ease away from the serious topics and start having more fun as afternoon turns to evening.

Fynn keeps the conversation flowing and it gets easier to laugh and keep talking to him. Every story we trade and laugh we share has me leaning closer and closer like a flower drawn to the sun. The familiar buzz of alcohol starts to settle in, and I lose track of time.

Not long after we down a melon-flavored shot, a couple waltzes by. A man in a crisp black tuxedo strides through the bar, a striking woman in a flowing red evening gown on his arm. They cut through the bar towards the hotel lobby.

Fynn's gaze follows the pair, his head tilting slightly as he observes them. It looks like he's watching one of them, but I can't quite tell which of the two has captured his attention, the dapper gentleman or the elegant lady in red.

"Are you gay?" I blurt out.

He turns his head back to me. "I'm usually interested in men, so I mostly date men. But I prefer not labeling myself because I'm open to making a connection with someone regardless of gender.”

"Fair enough."

"What about you?"

"Gay," I answer immediately. I cough, hoping I don't sound too eager. It's not like he asked because he was interested. I asked first.

We both like men. So what? It doesn't matter.

I'm not interested in Fynn anyway… I'm just not not interested. Every time his hand accidentally brushes against my arm or our thighs brush, it sends a spark of electricity through me.

We've ordered enough booze to stay pleasantly not sober while we talk for hours, but nobody is falling down drunk by the time we settle the bill. The alcohol has us both feeling pretty good.

A bleary eyed Fynn raises his head after he signs his receipt, and a slow smile lights up his face. “You’re smiling. Did you have a good time tonight?”

“I did.”

He looks so damn pleased it makes my heart ache. “Good. I’m glad.”

“As far as vices go, these aren’t bad," I admit. "Just not sure they’re sustainable. What am I gonna do tomorrow when my liver needs a break and I’m hungover while still on a sugar high?”

“I didn’t say these were the only pleasures regular life has to offer. Just some of mine.”

“Oh yeah. Any other tricks up your sleeve?” I lean into him, and he leans into me too.

"You know..." he murmurs, "There is one vice I haven't mentioned yet." If I'm not mistaken, his eyes slide down to my lips before he shakes his head. "Never mind, maybe we shouldn't."

"No, enlighten me," I say. My hand finds his thigh and he swallows hard.

Our eyes meet and there seems to be a question in his gaze. Like he’s wondering if this is a good idea. Maybe I wasn’t in the best headspace when we met and we’ve had a couple drinks, but I don’t care. It’s more than the alcohol that draws me towards him. I don’t want to resist.

Fynn closes the distance between us, his hand cupping the back of my neck as his lips crash against mine in a searing kiss. The melon shot wasn’t my favorite, but it tastes better on him.

My hands find their way into his thick, soft brown locks, the strands sliding through my fingers like silk. His body radiates warmth, and I can feel the solid muscle beneath his clothes as I pull him closer.

"Get a room, you two!"

The bartender's gruff shout breaks through the haze of arousal. Oh. We were just making out like horny teenagers in front of the bar. Oops.

Fynn pulls back, lips swollen and eyes glazed over with hunger. He looks utterly debauched and insanely hot. “Want to get out of here?”

“Have you been trying to seduce me this whole time?” I gasp, teasing him.

He gives me an amused expression. “When we met, you burst into tears.”

“Don’t remind me.” Not my finest moment. “Is it the drinks that changed your mind?”

If so, then we have a problem.

“No,” he says. “Somewhere after you crying and before the drinks kicked in, I realized you were attractive. What about you?”

I think about it and tell him, “To be on the safe side, I'm too drunk to drive, but not drunk enough to regret this in the morning.”

I know I want this, want him.

"Good answer," he says, grabbing my hand and leading me out of the bar.

Honestly, it seems impossible to regret this. Today will always suck because it’s the day I found out my days as a caster are numbered. Things can’t continue as they are. I’ll either gain magic or lose it forever.

But as far as bright sides go, Fynn is pretty damn bright. It's hard to be sad around his earnest sweetness. And ending this day with getting laid must be the best bright side ever.