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Corey

DYLAN DOESN’T SIT DOWN UNTIL COREY DOES. SHE WATCHES HIM closely, as if she’s looking for answers to questions she hasn’t asked and getting angrier by the second when he doesn’t read her mind.

“I haven’t seen you in days,” Dylan says.

“Only three.”

“Four.”

“Okay, four. Sorry, I’ve been busy.”

“I don’t like that,” Dylan says. “Especially when I get a text that you’re here with another girl.”

“You got a text? From who?”

“My brother is a line cook here, Corey. I’ve told you that twenty times.”

Corey should know that, and he mumbles some excuse—that he thought her brother had moved to another restaurant. But his mind is elsewhere, because Dylan isn’t just Dylan anymore. She’s also a witch, whether she knows it or not. Sitting here with her feels like being at the bottom of an oncoming rockslide and not being able to run, or move, or breathe.

What if Alonso and Penny are right? Could the Mayberrys really have cursed the Barrions?

If it’s true, it would mean the Barrions have been wrongly blaming the De Lucas this entire time. It’s not as if Giovanni ever truly confessed. And Corey has heard stories about how much Idlewood shifted in the wake of his family opening Barrion Heating he laughs. “Are you threatening to tell on me?”

Dylan’s face goes red, maybe with anger, maybe with embarrassment. Corey hangs his head. He can’t provoke her like that. He should know better, but his patience is running out. He can’t deal with her pushing him, interrogating his every move.

For one wild moment, the breakup feels imminent. Corey is teeming with the energy of this possibility.

“Corey?” Dylan’s voice is taut like a violin string. She’s watching him stone-faced, as if she’s on the front line of a battle that hasn’t started yet.

“What?” he says.

“You’re going to say something.”

Corey softens immediately. Dylan reads him well. It’s weird, and it makes him feel like the center of the universe. Or maybe just the center of hers.

He won’t break up with her. The brief momentum he felt is gone, replaced by something almost like protectiveness. He isn’t in love with Dylan, but he knows her. She’s not all bad, even if she sometimes does bad things. Maybe it’s impossible to look someone in the eyes for three years and not care about them, because despite everything, Corey wants to keep her safe. And, in her own way, she wants to keep Corey safe, too.

And Corey needs her around right now. He needs to talk to her, to ask her directly about her family history. But will that conversation mean admitting the truth about the curse?

He can’t do that yet. Corey’s life has changed twice in the last twenty-four hours. Right now he needs an excuse to stop Dylan from asking more questions about Alonso and Penny.

The lie weaves itself together easily, out of habit and necessity. It’s a good one, but already Corey’s stomach is twisting with anxiety.

Because this lie will involve Penny.

But there’s a way to tell this story that will keep Penny safe, too. The best way to address Dylan’s suspicions is to convince her that Penny is the last person Corey could ever want.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Corey says, “but you can’t freak out.”

Dylan narrows her eyes. “No promises.”

“Hear me out first. So…” Corey lets out a low laugh. “Penny sort of has a crush on me.”

Dylan’s face turns murderous. “Sort of? What are you talking about? She made a move on you?”

Corey squeezes her hand. “Calm down, okay? I told her it’s never going to happen.” Dylan’s face doesn’t change, but she’s quiet, so Corey takes that as his cue to continue. He makes his voice as condescending as he can. “I don’t know what she expected from me, but Penny doesn’t have a lot of friends. And with everything she’s going through, she needs someone to talk to. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, so I reached out to her, but she thought my attention meant something else, so this is my fault. I should’ve kept my distance. But I’ve made it clear to her that she’s not my type.”

My type . The words echo too loud, and when Corey blinks, he sees Penny’s face. Her eyes are such a strange blue that they look less like the sky and more like the ocean. Has she ever seen the ocean?

“Corey? Hello?”

Corey snaps out of it. He pulls his hand away, wiping its clamminess on his jeans. Where had that train of thought come from?

My type .

Oh god. Is Penny his type?

“I, uh.” Corey’s voice cracks. “What was I saying?”

Dylan stares at him for a long moment. Then she says, “Explain Alonso.”

Corey smiles, but it feels forced this time. It’s too late to go back, to say he was kidding. He needs to see this story through, and he needs to be convincing.

“Turns out Alonso has a thing for Penny,” Corey says, “so I’m trying to set them up. That way Penny will leave me alone, and hey, I figured it might get Alonso off my back, too.”

Dylan doesn’t blink. “You just figured out Alonso has a crush on Penny?”

That’s not where Corey was expecting this to go. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew.” She glances toward the parking lot, and Corey follows her gaze. Alonso is walking Penny to her car, holding an umbrella over her head while he gets soaked from the rain. He’s standing close, and he makes a wild gesture as he says something. Penny laughs, beaming up at him.

“Looks like Penny might know, too,” Dylan says. “I guess you’re a matchmaker.”

Corey keeps his face neutral, but his stomach turns. He doesn’t like seeing them together, but it has nothing to do with the fact that he thinks Penny is pretty. Maybe Penny would be his type if he were allowed to have a type, but that doesn’t change anything. Alonso is a dangerous witch, and he doesn’t deserve Penny. He doesn’t deserve anyone.

And yet he’ll never have to hold back the way Corey does. Alonso doesn’t know what it’s like, being so afraid of having feelings for another person that you learn to mute your emotions like a song. If Corey had been born into another family, would he be the same person he is now? Or would he be completely different—more open, less afraid? Maybe his future wouldn’t be predetermined. Maybe he’d be brave enough to stand up to his grandpa—to live his own life.

If they break the curse, Corey could run away. Figure out what kind of person he is when he’s not defined by his last name. He could look at someone the way Alonso looks at Penny.

Not yet. But soon.

Corey takes Dylan’s hand again, and he presses his lips to her knuckles. When he looks up, Dylan’s eyes are half-lidded, and Corey knows they’ll be okay for now. But he needs one more thing from her.

Dylan has never admitted to leaking Lisa Yung’s nudes. Corey isn’t sure if it was her, even though his friends think it’s obvious. When he sees her like this—so attentive, so obviously in love with him—Corey can’t picture her hurting anyone. It gives him the confidence to say his next words.

“Don’t give Penny a hard time,” Corey says. “She’s in a bad place.”

Dylan turns cold again. She pulls her hand away, leaving Corey’s own hand alone in the middle of the table. His fingers curl into a fist.

“Dylan,” Corey says.

“I won’t.”

Corey tries to keep his voice even. “You promise?”

“Yeah,” Dylan says, her eyes flat. “I promise.”