Chapter 6
Nolan
The US History classroom feels like a shitty sauna, the air muggy from the heater and drying clothes. Most of my classmates look like drowned rats. The rain was so sudden that few could escape unscathed. Magic will do that to people.
I take in Callie sitting next to me. She’s moved her desk close to mine so that we can share my textbook. Unlike a lot of my classmates, drowned rat looks good on her. Her long, thick hair is twisted over her right shoulder, exposing her slender neck and striking profile. Her clothes are soaked and stick to her like a second skin, showing off the subtle curves of her small, compact body. She manages to be both cute and hot all at the same time-- not an easy feat.
I would totally go for this girl if one, Felix didn’t look so damn smitten-- dead or not, I don’t go after friends’ girls, two, I dated at all-- Callie doesn’t strike me as the casual hookup type, and most importantly, three, I hadn’t sworn off witches after the train wreck that was my relationship with Gina.
Yep, learned the hard way that messing with witches only gets you royally screwed. I broke up with Gina because I couldn’t take her two-faced bitchery, and she made sure I would suffer for that decision the rest of my life. Then again, her fucking obsession with me gives me all the ammunition I need to make her suffer right along with me, and she only has herself to blame.
I notice Gina glowering from across the room. Unlike the rest of the class, Gina’s clothes are dry and her makeup and hair are perfect-- almost as if by magic. It was definitely magic.
Thanks to Connor’s long ass legs under my desk and between my feet, my right leg is close to Callie, and I let it relax against her. I lean slightly into her as well, throwing my right arm over the back of her chair. At first she stiffens then seems to consciously relax her body, something I noticed earlier. If I were a gentleman, I’d probably take that as a hint to back off, except I get the feeling if she wanted me to stop, she’d tell me. She certainly made her feelings about Gina perfectly clear, which was both amazing and slightly terrifying. For a girl that didn’t know she was a witch that was an intense piece of magic.
Which makes me wonder what the hell I’m doing with Callie in the first place? I swore off witches, and here I am flirting with one. Except Callie is completely clueless about the world she just stepped into, and she also isn’t trying to claw her way into my pants. Probably should be insulting, but it’s rather refreshing. This morning felt like a test that I didn’t realize I was giving her until she started laughing instead of sighing and fluttering her eyes at me. It’s a sexy laugh, too.
Poor Felix. The perfect girl really did fall in his lap, and he’s a ghost. Which is the other reason I’m warming up to Callie. Felix obviously likes her, and from the little I’ve observed, she seems to like him back. Maybe not in the same way, but again, he’s dead so he’s not really in a position to start anything.
Callie glances up at me then looks at Gina, sees the fiery death glare, snorts, and goes back to reading the textbook and taking notes. God, this girl is fun, too. She clearly has some of her own issues to deal with-- don’t we all-- but she’s enjoyable to be around and seems to fit with the rest of us. Hell, Connor even likes her. It was hilarious to watch her get riled up by Connor’s uh, brief answers, but what she doesn’t know is, if he didn’t like her, he wouldn’t have said anything at all.
I sigh, my breath playing with the fine strands of hair on Callie’s neck. At this point, I’m more looking over her shoulder than simply sitting next to her.
She softly elbows me then writes at the top of her notes, “Having fun?”
I laugh silently, my breath twirling more of her hair. She also smells really good-- some girly, fruity, flowery smell. I wonder if Connor can pick that up over whatever leaking magic smells like. Sometimes, I’m really grateful that I’m not a wolf shifter.
With my left hand, I write on my blank notebook paper, “Very much.”
She shakes her head. From her profile, I can see a hint of an amused smirk. It’s funny. Her lack of interest in me makes me want to flirt and touch her more. Not because I can’t handle her being uninterested, but more because it’s friendly and fun-- something that’s been pretty much impossible for me. Doesn’t hurt that it pisses off my ex at the same time.
I strike through my last comment, then write, “Want to come over to my place after school?”
She turns and looks up at me when she sees what I’ve written, both fine brows raised. The humored light hasn’t left her pretty grey eyes. Damn, whoever she does choose to date will be extremely lucky-- assuming Donovan or Connor don’t scare them off for fun.
I give her a mock expression of shock, then scribble down, “To do homework, obviously. The rest of the guys will be there too.”
Her eyes say she’s on to my game, but she merely smiles and nods. See, fun! She leans over, her shoulder brushing my chest, and writes on my paper, “I don’t have a car.”
“I’ll give you a lift,” I reply quickly, both of our hands now hovering over the same page.
“Cool. Need to pick up my books first,” she pens back.
I jot down my phone number with “Text me when you’re ready” written after.
At this angle, Callie’s head is tucked under my chin, and to any outside observer, we look pretty cozy. Ah, I can practically feel the death lasers being shot from across the room. A smart person would presumably not want to antagonize the wicked witch in Prada, but I’ve long since stopped giving a shit. It appears Callie might give even less shits than I do. I should at least give her the hazard warning about Gina. Might be important to know what she’s dealing with even if it’s probably too late.
I don’t know how to feel about what happened at lunch today. On the one hand, even though Callie just met me, she stood up for me-- in a rather epic fashion. On the other hand, being in the middle of two witches is a bad place to be. Christ. Too late now.
Callie nudges me, and scribbles, “Do your work!” then leans back to return to her notebook. On a different page, she quickly jots down my cell number.
We have a sub today, so the class assignment is to answer the questions listed at the end of the chapter-- aka, write all the bold words down and the sentences they’re in. Takes absolutely no brain power.
I rest my chin on her shoulder and whisper in her ear, “I’ll just copy yours.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s called cheating,” she murmurs back, turning the pages of the textbook so she can write down the next question.
I shake my head, my chin digging a little into her shoulder. “Nope, being considerate.”
She chuckles quietly, her whole body shaking against mine. I like making her laugh. It’s genuine and free. I also enjoy antagonizing her for the same reason. In her frustration there’s humor, like she can appreciate the joke even when it’s on her. I swear I’m a hairstyle away from tugging on her pigtails.
Once she’s in better control, she mumbles, “How’s copying my work considerate?”
“Well,” I answer, like it should be obvious, “you’re clearly farther ahead of me in the assignment…”
“Because you haven’t started it,” she interrupts with a snicker.
“And we’re sharing a book,” I continue evenly. “If I started the assignment now, I’d just be getting in the way of you doing the assignment.”
“Uh huh,” she replies. I’m pretty sure I can feel her eyes roll.
I can’t help myself and give some of her hair a playful tug. “Is there any actual thinking required for this assignment?”
She sighs knowing I got her. “No.”
“And if I was looking for different answers, would it interrupt your work?” I inquire, taking the strands of her hair I nabbed and wrapping them around my fingers, the damp tendrils sticking to my skin.
Another sigh. “Yes.”
I smirk. “So…”
“Fine, Casanova,” she grumbles and turns her notebook in a way so it’s easier for me to see.
“Thank you,” I croon into her ear.
Still playing with her hair, I flip to a clean sheet of paper and begin copying down the assignment. Her writing is neat and easy to read. Definitely stealing her notes from now on; Connor’s chicken scratch is impossible to translate.
Class moves at a snail’s pace but poking and teasing Callie passes the time well. I get her to snort once, which earned me another elbow to the gut. Worth it.
When the bell rings, Callie moves her desk back over and gives me an exasperated look. She doesn’t say anything, just shakes her head like she doesn’t know what to do with me, then starts collecting her things into her backpack.
I grin. “What’s your next class?” I ask, while tossing my stuff into my messenger bag.
“Jewelry 1,” she answers, checking her schedule.
Connor gets up, looks over Callie’s shoulder at her schedule, then glances at Gina who I’m pretty sure never stopped scowling at us from across the room.
“We’ll walk you,” he offers, his voice low and soft. A wise decision that I was about to suggest myself.
She looks startled then offers a peek of a smile, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Thanks.”
Connor nods, picks up Callie’s bag, and hooks it over his shoulder, then patiently waits for Callie to move ahead of him.
We file out of class and head downstairs and toward the south side of the building. Fortunately, the art classrooms aren’t too far from the garage that Connor and I have our next class in.
Connor and I have positioned Callie between us with her arm looped through mine. Unlike earlier, I don’t have to deal with random brushes of people, because they’re too busy leaping out of the way of Connor. He can do a hell of lot of damage if he wanted to, so they’re not wrong to want to stay on his good side, but he wouldn’t be a dick just because someone bumped into him. Ah well. I’m enjoying the space to breathe.
When we reach the door of her classroom, Callie retrieves her backpack from Connor and thanks us again before making her way inside. Surprisingly, this will be her first class of the day one of us isn’t in. I half expect Felix to pop up out of nowhere so she isn’t alone, but he disappeared after lunch. Not unexpected considering everything that happened.
I sigh and walk with Connor towards auto shop. Damn it, I really like hanging out with Callie, and I pray it doesn’t bite me in the ass.
I take a deep breath and glance up at my friend. “What did you mean by different?” I ask him seriously.
He looks down at me with one raised brow.
Okay, I deserved that. Connor wasn’t intentionally being obtuse with Callie.
“Leaking magic means something, right?” I continue, trying to puzzle out how to ask the right questions. “So what do you think power wise? Compared to Gina?”
“Don’t know,” he huffs, shrugging his shoulders. “Just different.”
I groan, scrubbing at my face. “That’s what worries me.”
Connor rests his big hand on my shoulder, stopping us in the middle of the hall. We’re like a giant rock in a river, students splitting in wide berths around us.
He waits until I look up, meets my gaze, and says, “We’ll figure it out.”
I nod in understanding, and we go back to walking towards class. Despite his promise, I still have a sinking feeling in my stomach.
∞∞∞
I’m leaning against a wall in front of the school, dicking around with an app on my phone, when Callie strides breathless through the front double doors.
“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” she puffs, walking up to me. “When I got my books, I had to track down my locker. Didn’t really feel like carrying seven books around when I only needed two.”
“It’s fine,” I tell her, getting up from the wall. I sling my messenger bag over my shoulder and motion towards the parking lot. “Shall we?”
She nods, tugging on the sleeves of her red hoodie. Quietly, we walk to my car, her short legs having to take extra steps to catch up with mine. She’s so freaking tiny, I wonder how long it will take before we’re picking her up and carrying her everywhere. I smirk over the thought of her inevitable grumbling expression.
The sun is once again back in full force, and the world looks rich in color. There’s still a dampness to the air that smells of earth and green things. Unsurprisingly, the parking lot is pretty much empty, and the aged asphalt is mostly dry with patches of puddles scattered about.
“Where’s everyone else?” Callie asks as we approach my car. She pulls her hair out from under her sweater and splits it over her shoulders.
“They went on ahead. Alicia makes a mean spread for us after school,” I answer, pulling my keys from my bag and hitting the key fob to unlock my car.
She’s a stunning gunmetal grey, 2017 Audi R8 with a V10+ automatic manual transmission. This beauty sticks to the road like no other, and it’s a damn shame I have to put all purpose tires on her. She deserves a set of Michelin Pilot Sport Cup, but street racing tires and rain don’t really mix.
“Alicia?” Callie inquires, eyeballing my car.
“Our chef,” I reply, walking to the passenger side to open the door for her. “She comes over and preps meals for us during the week.”
“Uh huh,” she mumbles, cautiously sliding into one of the black, bucket seats and putting her backpack between her legs.
I close the door behind her and with a few long strides, I’m on the driver’s side getting in. I throw my bag behind my seat, pull on my seatbelt and press the button for the starter. Out pours the throaty growl of 610 horsepower. Damn, this car is sexy.
“So, is Alicia like you?” Callie asks over the idling sound of the engine.
I glance at her real quick and notice a speculative gleam to her eyes, before looking into the rearview mirror and backing out. “Do you mean is she a vampire?” Shifting into first, I follow the drive out to the front of the school. “No, she’s human. My parents and I are the only vampires in Twin Cedar Pass.”
“Oh,” she replies. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her chewing on her lip. “Does she know about your uh, special dietary needs?”
I snort. “That’s one way of putting it, and nope.” I hit my turn signal, see the roads are empty, and turn onto the main boulevard. “Number one rule of supernatural club is…”
“Don’t talk about supernatural club,” she groans with a hard roll of her eyes. “That movie will never die.”
I shake my head. “Felix is the one to argue with over movies. I just watch them.”
She rubs her hands along her thighs, her fingernails scratching at the denim. “So Felix didn’t know about you guys, before…”
“He died?” My chest is tight every time I think about that night in July. I clear my throat. “No.”
Callie’s quiet for a while, looking out the window, until we get to the outskirts of town and onto the open road, where I’m able to really give my car some freedom.
She shoots back into her seat, her fingers locked into a white knuckle grip. “You’re way too young for a midlife crisis, so what’s with the car?” she demands over the growing roar of the engine. “Death wish?”
“I like cars,” I answer with a Connor grade shrug then add my signature smirk. “And speed.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that,” she sputters.
I reach over for her left hand, untangling her death grip from the leather seat, and give it a gentle squeeze.
“Relax,” I encourage in smooth, dulcet tones. “Vampires have increased reflexes, and even if I didn’t, despite what it may sound like, I’m going maybe five over the speed limit. I’m just getting there faster than most.”
She shivers and squeezes my hand back. Her hand feels like ice against my skin. After a moment, she takes a closer look at my hand and rubs on the nail bed of my pointer finger. “This is why I smell engine grease,” she murmurs to herself, then looks up at me. “So you actually work on cars? Not just buy them?”
“Yep. Connor and I had auto shop as our last class of the day,” I explain, giving her hand another squeeze before taking mine back so I can change gears on the paddle shifter. “This is our third year taking it, so Mr. Russ pretty much lets us do what we want. Our project for the year is restoring a classic 1969 Boss 429 Mustang that I found last summer. It was a crime how I found her, rusted and baking in the hot sun.”
Callie pulls her sleeves over her hands and pins them between her thighs. She nods at me in that I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you seem to care way. Damn, not into cars. Probably for the best. Reasons one through three on why not to go for Callie would be hard to remember if she was a car enthusiast on top of it all.
“Do you like working on cars so you can race them? I assume you race them.” She scrunches up her face in thought, which looks really cute, and I can’t help the soft smile that comes to my lips. It’s nice that she’s trying.
“I do like racing cars,” I answer, subtly turning the wheel to follow the gentle curves of the road. The path is bracketed with trees painted in the russet colors of autumn. “But my real passion is restoring old ones to their former glory. I’m in the rare position that money isn’t really an issue, so I can do these amazing pieces of history justice.”
She turns in her seat towards me and leans her head so she can look at me as she talks. A sweet smile plays on her lips. “And you and Connor work on cars together?”
I nod. “Connor has always enjoyed hands on stuff that doesn’t require having to talk,” Callie snorts at that, “and I’ve been obsessed with cars since way before I could even think about driving. Don’t know where the obsession came from. Neither of my parents are interested in it.”
“But they support you?” Her eyes flicker down, and she scratches at her knee.
I can tell there’s a lot more to her question than what’s being asked, but I don’t know what she’s looking for. I clear my throat and half joke, “Yeah. Whatever keeps me happy and out of trouble.”
I can see the wheels turning as she tries to come up with another question, and I decide to change the subject. “So, how was Jewelry 1?”
She blinks at me for a moment, then releases a weighty breath. “It was alright. I took the class because I thought it’d be nice to do something creative that fulfills my fine art requirement, and since I can’t draw, or play an instrument, and you’d have to knock me unconscious to get me on stage… well, this seemed the best option.”
I glance at her. “And?”
“And nothing,” she sighs dismissively. “The class requires a crap ton of supplies I didn’t have since I just transferred. I read the textbook all during class while everyone worked on their projects.”
“There’s a textbook for Jewelry 1?” I chuckle, braking to turn onto the main road leading up to my house.
“Yes, fascinating reading,” she giggles, twisting strands of her hair in an absent way. “I learned about different types of metals, beads, and precious stones. The textbook also has patterns, so it isn’t a complete waste.”
“I’m sure they’re very tasteful,” I tease.
Her giggles turn into peals of laughter. “They’re so ugly!” She wheezes, her knees curling up toward her. “It’s all patterns from the ‘80s, and not in a cool retro way.”
“So, going to make up your own patterns?” I grin over at her.
She nods with a beautiful smile that reaches every corner of her face. “I wouldn’t call myself creative, but I definitely can’t do worse.”
I see the front gates for the estate coming up, and I know I need to warn Callie about Gina before we get to the rest of the guys. I want her to know enough so she’s prepared, but I don’t want to hash out the hell that is my connection to the witch bitch-- and Donovan has a big mouth.
Sitting up straight, I take a fortifying breath. “Callie, about lunch today,” I start, but she’s not listening to me.
Her eyes are huge saucers taking in the massive house sitting up on a large hill that backs up to the miles of tree filled acreage. “That’s your house?”
I slouch back into my seat and sigh. “Yeah. That’s it.”