Page 21 of Witchful Thinking

“I forgot about that.” Lucy chuckled. “What did we call our fake bungalow?”

“Shore Thing,” Alex said without missing a beat. She responded with a smile. His heart ached. “I thought Mr. Clarke was going to spit out his coffee at that joke.”

To teach life skills, their high school economics teacher, Mr. Clarke, had made them team up, build a life together, and create a household on paper. The memory of the project washed over him. They played house for two weeks, creating the Caraway-Dwyer household, then were tasked with presenting their findings to the class. They picked out a house, selected careers, and figured out mortgage payments on their imaginary salaries. In that imaginary life, she’d worked as a first-grade teacher at the local elementary school, while he taught photography classes at the local community college while submitting grants for his art projects. During those two weeks, he’d seen what would happen if he’d stayed in the Grove for good.

He’d gotten a glimpse of the future and had honestly gotten spooked at the idea of domestic life. He liked the fantasy a little too much. But it was just that, a dream of a teenager who wanted a place to call home. Everything looked good on paper, but real life didn’t work out that way. He’d learned with Nahla that making a home wasn’t as simple as putting your name on an address. It took effort. He just didn’t have it.

“We got an A-, though,” Lucy whispered, interrupting his thoughts.

“What about the whole dating thing? Could you date or—were you locked up in a tower like a princess?”

“No. My parents weren’t worried about me dating.” Lucy lifted and then dropped a shoulder. “Unless a boyfriend fell out of my spell book, then I wasn’t doing any dating.”

Alex leaned forward. “I thought you had a protection charm on your head.”

She gave him a guarded look. “No. Nothing like that.”

“How come you never had a serious relationship?”

Lucy lifted a brow. “Why? Are you writing a book?”

He held her stare. “I’m curious.”

“You know, curiosity killed the cat.” She lifted her chin, meeting his stare.

“Well, satisfaction brought him back,” he said.

The air charged when the word “satisfaction” came up. Neon light shone brightly in her eyes, sparking something within him. When was the last time you were satisfied? Suddenly, he became aware of how small this gondola was and how good she smelled. He was a merman with a serious sweet tooth. Here she was smelling like an entire plate of fresh-baked sprinkle cookies right out the oven. His stomach churned. Yeah. He was screwed.

“I never clicked with anyone back then,” Lucy said casually. “I hung out with guys, but nothing serious. Besides, you and I were cool. That was enough back then.”

She motioned between them, obviously talking about their teenage friendship. Alex relaxed against the seat trying to ease his stomach. It was true. Their friendship, those half-spinach-and-half-sausage pizzas, cream-soda-can weekdays, and arcade weekends had been enough to satiate his desire for something more. He thought that he had found that “something more” with Nahla, but he was mistaken. Maybe he wasn’t meant to have anything beyond a casual relationship.

“Alex? Everything okay?” Lucy’s question rocked him out of his musings.

“Yeah.” A chill came over Alex. He rubbed his arms to get warmed up, but he still felt cold.

“Your turn, Dwyer,” she said, rubbing her legs. There wasn’t much room in the gondola, but he shifted so she could stretch out. Every time they touched, his senses short-circuited. Her scent spun around his head.

“I only have one cousin. I used to live in Colorado. I like iced coffee,” he rattled off.

“The first one is the lie,” she guessed. “I remember the family tree you drew out. I thought my family was big.”

“Like Pop says, Dwyers don’t die—we multiply,” Alex said. Lucy chuckled at the familiar saying. He’d always liked her laugh. “Pop is one of thirteen merchildren. I have at least twenty first cousins, or some ridiculous number like that.”

“Family reunions must be insane.” Lucy rested her chin in her hand with an amused grin. “You’ve been to Colorado. I’ve always wanted to go, have a Denver omelet, and see the Rocky Mountains.”

“Yes, we lived in Denver for a while. Mom didn’t like being so far from the ocean, so we moved,” Alex said. “That’s where we moved before we came here.”

“How many times did you move?” Lucy asked.

Alex made an uncertain sound. He’d lost count around St. Louis and San Francisco. The number was low enough that it wasn’t too unusual but high enough that he’d stopped telling people because of the shocked responses he got.

“Your turn.”

Lucy tapped her chin. “I’m allergic to strawberries. I take a bubble bath every night. I think lavender smells strange.”

“You’re making this too easy. The second one is such a lie.”