you know?” His lips quirked up as he downed the rest of his drink in one swallow. “Why don’t you tell me about your family? Do you get along with them?”
She tried not to laugh. “I feel like I’m being interrogated.”
“Sorry, I like to talk. Ask questions. Get to know people.”
“All right.” Another sip of her whiskey sour and she found that it was almost gone. “Well, I have a younger sister named Becca, and we live with our mother above the Speckled Muse Bookshop.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“Sometimes. Are you a reader?”
“Do graphic novels count?”
“Sure.”
“Then yes. I’m practically a bookworm.”
She watched him, feeling more comfortable in his presence the longer they sat there. “How about you? Do you have any siblings? No, wait. I already know you from that photo spread. You have a younger brother and an older brother.”
A shadow of pain crossed his expression. He signaled for the waitress to bring over another vodka.
Crys eyed him carefully, now worried that she’d said something wrong.
“Good memory,” he finally said. “Yeah, two brothers. I’m the middle child with all the psychological baggage that comes along with that position.”
Whatever sadness had passed across his face had now disappeared. Maybe it had been nothing at all. “Are you planning to go to college here?”
“Thinking about it. Not sure campus life is my scene, though.”
“So what is your scene?”
“Good question. I’m currently at a crossroads. What choice should I make today that will affect my entire future? Talk about pressure. I’m not a fan of pressure.”
“Me neither.”
He leaned forward after a few moments of silence passed between them. “Tell me your biggest secret, Crys. And then maybe I’ll tell you mine.” His expression turned mischievous.
She couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?”
“The worst kind.”
She considered him in silence, this boy she never would have met had coincidence not brought them together twice, before she spoke again. “Do you believe in magic?”
“Actually, I do.”
Her gaze snapped to his again with surprise. His hazel eyes were so lovely—one moment stormy and intense, the next sparkling with humor.
Forget about his eyes, she told herself firmly. This wasn’t a date. This was a conversation with a potential new friend who could be very useful.
She had no idea what kinds of contacts the Graysons had, but if they were as rich and powerful as Crys believed they were, they were sure to know a lot of equally influential people.
They might even know a man like Markus King.
“I mean, I’m not talking about card tricks,” she clarified.
“Me neither.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what I believe, really. I just know I’m open to the possibility that there’s more to this world than meets the eye.”
“Exactly.” She bit her lip, feeling a giddy urge to confess all her secrets to him.
After one cocktail, she didn’t think she was drunk, but she wasn’t quite sober, either, especially since she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.
“So . . . let’s talk magic.” Farrell glanced at a couple in a nearby booth, their lips locked in a passionate kiss. “There are so many strange things in this world. Why can’t it be possible that magic is real? Agree?”
Maybe their paths had crossed on purpose . . . like it was some sort of universal plan. Fate.
Maybe they were soul mates.
Go home, her brain told her. You are drunk.
“I totally agree,” she said instead.
He raised an eyebrow and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Do you know something, Crys Hatcher? Or are you just making conversation?”
If he only knew. What would his reaction be if she told him about Dr. Vega’s theories about the magic language? About the Codex? But just before she opened her mouth, she closed it again and glanced down at the time on her phone. It was already after nine o’clock. Her mother had texted her twice, wondering where she was.
“You know, I should probably get going. I said one drink, and I managed to devour it in record time.” She stood up. “Thanks, Farrell. For the help . . . and for the company. I needed a distraction tonight.”
“I aim to distract. You’re not planning to walk, are you? I can get my driver to take you home.”
“I’m fine. Really. What happened with that mugger . . . that, like, doesn’t usually happen in this neighborhood. And home is only a couple of blocks from here.”
“Can I see you again?” At her startled look, he tempered his words with a fresh grin. “As just a friend, of course. Capital-P Platonic.”
Crys tended to