Page 42 of The Entanglement of Rival Wizards (Magic and Romance #1)

Kenneth opens his mouth, his eyes bloodshot, and before he can say anything and exhale fire all over me, I whip up my hand.

“If you singe even one hair on my head, I will resort to magic-user stereotypes and turn you into a newt.”

His mouth shuts.

And his lower lip juts out.

“Oh, for the love.” I pull a vial of components for a cleansing spell from my back pocket. “Here. Mix it in some water. Drink it. And start bringing your own counterspells to parties.”

Kenneth takes it with a happy mew, his lips firmly shut.

Ivo snorts. “Softy.”

Over their shoulders, Orok is still doing his best to look terrifying. Thio’s expression is even more terrifyingly blank. I’m hard-pressed to figure out how this is going to go down, which side I should be leaping to defend.

But Thio smiles. “Your stats are impressive,” he says to Orok.

My confusion forces out a strangled cough. “What?”

Thio looks at me but points to Orok. “His stats. He’s one of the best defensive tanks we’ve ever had.”

Orok glances back at his teammates with a lip pucker of approval. “He’s a fan. Stand down.”

The group immediately clears. Music starts back up. Ivo and Kenneth cut back to the potion pong table, and I hurry to the door, my face scrunched.

“You know his rawball stats because—?”

“I… go to Lesiara U,” Thio says, like it should be obvious.

“And you watch rawball games?”

“Yes.”

“On purpose?”

He smiles. “Ah. Not a fan?”

“I’m not not a fan,” I allow, and Orok elbows me hard enough I puff out all the air in my lungs.

“Don’t lie to your date, Sebby. That’s rude,” he says in a fatherly, chastising voice.

Thio’s amusement sharpens. “I’m guessing I shouldn’t have bought tickets to the Philly Hellhounds training game for our date tonight?”

Silence reigns. Me, in horror, trying to figure out if I can date someone who likes rawball; Orok, in a drunken delayed reaction, piecing together whether Thio’s joking about the tickets, and if he’s not joking, whether he could weasel in on our date; and Thio, watching me, bright eyes glittering.

Orok breaks the silence with a barking laugh and throws his arm around me. “I like him, Seb. Don’t fuck it up.”

I shrug him off. He has a habit of mussing my hair, and I managed to tame my curls tonight. I don’t want my clothes wrinkled either, a bright blue crewneck sweater that makes my eyes pop, brown pleated pants, and even my nice leather shoes—sorry, Converse, sometimes I gotta cheat on you.

“Well.” I kick the kitchen floor. All things considered, this wasn’t as awkward as Orok threatened, so I resolve to get out while I’m ahead. “Don’t wait up.”

But Orok grabs my arm as I step away. Thio, who’d turned for the hall, stops and meets his eyes.

The party’s back in full swing behind us. Someone takes a potion that makes them refract light like a disco ball, so we’re bathed in flashing silver specks, but the energy between the three of us dips.

Orok’s expression toward Thio is severe, and I lift my other hand, start to step between them, when Orok says, simply, “Don’t hurt him.”

It’s a plea. It’s a command.

I’ve had relationships before and gone on dates plenty. Orok’s messed with a few of them, playfully threatened people, but that’s where it ends.

This protectiveness is… new. Why?

My usual wall-building thoughts stack up in my head like bricks.

This is just a date. Brick.

It’s still something simple and easy. Brick.

Whatever Orok’s picking up on, about this being different, he’s wrong. Brick.

The wall wobbles. Teeters. Topples right on down, even before Thio steps back across the threshold.

“I won’t,” he promises with a smile, one as vulnerable, somehow, as Orok’s plea. “It took me most of the semester to get him this far. I don’t plan on hurting him or letting him go.”

The noise I make is somewhere between a wheeze and an undignified whimper.

Orok and Thio both look at me, then back at each other, and the serious moment is broken when they share a grin. At my expense.

I free myself from Orok’s clutches. “If you’re done discussing my dowry, we’re off.”

“Two grand,” Orok says too quickly. “I’d also settle for a new gaming system. Dealer’s choice.”

Thio pretends to consider. Or, at least, that’d better be fake consideration. “Done.”

“Two grand?” I squawk. “Fuck you both, my virtue is worth more than that.”

Orok laughs in a way that’s just the word wah shouted really loud. “Virtue. Right.”

I wave Thio to leave and follow him into the hall. But as I shut the door behind me, I lock eyes with Orok.

Thanks, I mouth.

He winks.

Then points in the direction of Thio and makes a complicated series of perverted hand gestures I interpret as tap dat ass.

I slam the door.

Thio’s leaning against the wall next to the stairwell, swinging a set of keys around his finger.

He looks wildly amused. “I passed the best friend test?”

“That’s not an accomplishment. Orok has a terrible bullshit radar.” I nod at his keys. “No Hordon tonight?”

“Nope. I’m going full proper date with you. Pick up at the front door, interrogated by the father—”

I’m on him, pressing him into the wall, hands fisted in the sides of his shirt.

He does smell good. Like the deep part of a forest after it rains, lush greenery and warm springtime, but something else, too; garlic, maybe? Spices? I bury my nose in his neck and he hums contentedly.

“I need to get this out of my system before you drive us anywhere,” I whisper against his skin.

He shivers, hands going down to grab my ass. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve stopped believing there’s a way to get this out of my system at all. I’m pretty sure you are my system now.”

My lips trail up the side of his neck, tongue following the curve of his jaw. I rest my mouth over his and close my eyes, but he’s still consuming me. Scent and touch and taste and the stuttered gusts of his breath.

“You’ve wanted me all semester?” I ask into his mouth. No way I’m going to let that comment to Orok slide. Not when Thio’s said stuff like that before. Not when he didn’t back down from Orok’s interrogation, and does seem to be legitimately unthreatened by our relationship.

Thio threads his fingers up the back of my hair. I swear I can feel the warmth coming off his cheeks from his blush. “Yes.”

“Even when we hated each other?”

His forehead rests against mine and he drags his hand around to cup my jaw.

My eyes are still shut. Can’t look at him.

Can’t see whatever his face is doing as he says, “That’s part of what drew me to you at first—you so obviously hated the Touraels.

And it wasn’t the usual type of hate we get; it was—” He falters and goes silent.

“It was personal. I know now. But I knew you wouldn’t be a pushover like everyone else.

I knew they wouldn’t be able to manipulate you.

” He pauses. “Plus, you’re insanely hot. ”

I peek at him, doing my best to look sardonic. There’s a crash of emotions battering me apart, fighting to be felt, to be acknowledged. “Ah. My prejudices and virulent sex appeal are the only reasons you’re with me. The truth comes out.”

He smiles. “ At first . But now?”

A kiss on my cheekbone, trembling.

“Now,” he says again. Like there’s a lot more waiting behind that now, more he doesn’t want to say. Not yet.

I swallow, my body overheating in this chilly stairwell.

“Now,” he says again, more resolute, “I’m going to take you to my apartment, where I made you dinner.”

I pull back with a goofy grin. “You made me dinner?”

He looks deservedly proud. “And I’m going to wine and dine the fuck out of you. I haven’t had many good things in my life that my family didn’t ruin.” He interlaces his fingers with mine. “So this? I’m going to do this right.”

Gods help me. Someone, somewhere, surely there’s a god up there who’ll step in and prevent me from melting into a useless, babbling puddle of myself. But no such luck; I’m a doe-eyed goner. A sappy, lovestruck—

Woah.

Big word.

Big, scary word.

I look down at Thio’s hand in mine.

I’m going to do this right.

On the challenge field, I’d decided that, too. Hell, pretty much from the start of this, when we were hooking up, I made myself adhere to doing things right. The healthy way. The way with boundaries and communication.

I promised I’d tell him what happened. And I know, if I want this to be something more, something solid, that he needs to understand that part of me; and there’s no way he can do that if I don’t tell him.

I probe that decision now, have been all night. Is it still something I want? That’s the real test of this being different. If I can nudge that bruise, and want to push forward even with the pain.

I kiss him. Just lips and breath, gentle nips and unspoken secrets.

“Let’s get to this wining and dining, mister,” I tell him, and he happily obliges.