“Are they now?” He taps his fingers on the table, only his neck craning to the side to sip his shake. I don’t think he lifted it once since I sat down. Not Lucas. It’s beneath him to hold his own drink.
“It is.” I nod empathetically, but I’m mercifully saved from talking more when the waitress returns.
“How’s everything tasting?” she queries, cocking her hip to the side. She glances at my full shake and then Lucas’s nearly empty one. “Another shake, hon?”
“Yes, please,” Lucas answers, and the smile he throws her is capable of moving the clouds in the sky. I swear the heavens open up right then and there, all in an attempt to feast their eyes upon this stunning man. He looks so incredibly sure of himself and powerful, that another flare of heat explodes inside of me. I doubt Lucas would even bow to Satan if he rose at this exact moment, attempting to take control of the world. Instead, I believe Satan would cower in front of him. In front of this gorgeous man with the elegant, aristocratic face and a smile capable of making angels weep.
It takes me a long moment to realize I’m staring blankly at Lucas. And it takes me a minute more to realize he’s staring back just as intently.
Those damn eyes of his crawl over my skin, and while they normally feel like thousands of fire ants, today they remind me of a lover’s finger lightly caressing my bare flesh.
“So you’re a witch,” Lucas clarifies.
“Yes.” I finally take a sip of my strawberry shake, nearly groaning at the explosion of flavors. “But I think you already knew that.”
“Suspected,” he says, voice completely monotone.
“How?” I didn’t have my magic in middle school, so there’s no way in hell that I gave myself away. And I can’t remember a time when I talked about my powers with anyone outside of my coven.
“Do you remember when we played hide and seek?” He folds his hands primly on the table, nudging his now empty plate to the side.
“Do you mean when you and your asshole friends would chase after and terrorize me?” I ask, and his eye twitches.
“In a manner of speaking…”
“Which time are you referring to?” I cut in.
“That college fraternity member.” A bitter sort of darkness slides across Lucas’s face as his eyes harden. “The one who held your hand.”
“When he made your pants fall down?” I can’t help but chuckle darkly at the memory. “It’s kind of funny. Most boys would try to think logically. They would assume that their pants were loose or something…not automatically think that magic was involved.”
Lucas appears genuinely affronted. “So all four of our pants were loose at the exact same time? No, I suspected something was different about you right then and there. I imagine your Prince Charming was behind that incident?” He spits out the nickname as if it’s vile-tasting, coating his tongue in a sickly poison.
“He was,” I agree with a nod. And then, “I really did plan to thank him with sex when I turned eighteen. Oh well. Maybe next week.”
A vein in Lucas’s forehead bulges.
“I always knew there was something different about you, Peony,” he says softly. “Something…special.”
“So you only suspected I was a witch then and there?” I ask for clarification, and when he nods, I continue, “Then why did you guys always call me little witch?”
Obviously, I didn’t think they knew my secret, but I could never figure out the nickname. Was it meant to be demeaning? Hurtful? Annoying?
“Because, my little witch, you enchanted all of us,” he confesses in that same impassive voice.
“Okay, fine. Don’t tell me the truth,” I say around my chuckle.
Lucas blinks.
“Sometimes the truth is directly in front of you, but you choose not to look at it. And when you look at it, you don’t acknowledge it,” Lucas supplies cryptically.
I can’t help but snort. “That’s deep. Did you get that from a fortune cookie?”
“Snapple cap,” he deadpans. The joke is so unexpected coming from him, that I can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes. “But seriously, what can you do? Is this apparent ‘magic’ inside of you? Do you feast off of the energy of others?”
He reminds me of a third grader attempting to learn everything he can. I half expect him to begin waving his hand in the air as he asks questions.
“We have a natural magical reserve inside all of us,” I confess, and it occurs to me that this is