Page 47 of A Barista's Guide to Love & Larceny
“A little bit of both,” Kass said. “Not every mage can do it, but it’s not like you’re born with the ability to transform into whatever you want, unless you’re super powerful. It was something I learned in high school, when my dad made me go to spellcraft camp during the summers.”
“Wow,” Dani said, lost momentarily in the fantasy of being raised by parents who sent you to camp to learn something instead of spending the summer at a betting hall. She let out a breath to blow the image away. “That’s impressive. Did you get to pick the dog?”
He laughed. “No,” he said, “that’s just the form the gods decided I got, I guess.”
“Interesting,” she said. “But seriously—health violations aside—are you worried about being an asshole? Because you shouldn’t be.”
“I don’t know. Maybe sometimes. They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Proverbs are only useful when they’re useful,” Dani said, “and in any case, there was more than one tree you could fall from.”
“You’re not wrong.” Without her pressing him further, Kass kept going—but to her pleasure, no colors formed in the wake of his words. “I’ve honestly never really thought to compare myself to my mom now that I’m older. I was twelve when she died, and it’s just been me, my dad, and my sister since then.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister. Are you two a lot alike?”
His eyes grew wide as he shook his head emphatically. “We couldn’t be more different, I don’t think. I mean, we kind of look alike, but our brains don’t work the same way at all. She’s always been my dad’s idea of a perfect child—followed the exact path he laid out for her, from going to the grad school he picked to marrying the right person. She works for his company now, which is, like, the last thing I’d want to do on this planet.”
Their server returned to take their order. Dani insisted Kass choose for both of them, with the assurance that she was completely omnivorous and allergic to nothing that she knew of, so they ended up with a smorgasbord of spanakopita, souvlaki, moussaka, and pita with tzatziki and hummus. Dani was ravenous, and it all looked so delicious that she threw etiquette to the wind and helped herself to big portions of everything. Twenty minutes later, they were laughing and talking as comfortably as if it were their fifth date rather than their first.
“So,” Dani said, having eaten as much as she could possibly fit into her jeans, “what’s the first thing you’d want to do on this planet?”
Kass swallowed some of his water wrong and coughed into his napkin. “Sorry?”
“Earlier you said working for your dad was the last thing you’d want to do on this planet. What’s the first?”
“Oh,” he said, looking down at his lap. “It’s kind of silly.”
It echoed what he’d said the first time they’d studied together at Quarter Cast, when he’d told her about his father’s expectations. That night, he’d dodged giving her any concrete details about what he’d really like to do if he got to pursue his passions, and she hadn’t pushed him. Tonight, though, she wanted to hear it. She took a sip of water and watched him intently.
“Well, first I’d like to travel the world and do research,” he said finally, like it was a terrible secret. “I’d like to visit all kinds of ecosystems and study the magical properties of trees in different areas. Maybe go to grad school—one thatIpick—and do my thesis on whatever I find the most interesting.”
“Then what?”
“Then?” Kass looked up, but not at her, gazing instead into space, as though glimpsing the future. “If I could choose anything, I’d find a little cottage in the forest, maybe a farmette. I’d still study trees, or maybe have a little furniture business, and carve wooden flutes for my kids, and just be happy.”
His eyes focused on her again, and she could see that he was bracing himself to be laughed at, but she only smiled gently.
“Kass,” Dani said. “You’ve been telling me to be kinder to myself. I think you should take your own advice, even if just this once. Your dream isn’t silly. It’s just yours.” She didn’t know what emboldened her—the vulnerability of his answer or the connection between them—but she reached across the table and put her hand on his. He didn’t speak, just twined their fingers together, and they shared a quiet moment just like that, knowing they understood each other, and that understanding didn’t need any qualification.
He looked down at their hands, only to startle at the sight of his watch. “Oh shit, it’s almost eight thirty. Our next thing is at nine—we’d better get going.”
There was still a pita point left over, so Dani scarfed it, full or not, while Kass signaled their server and took care of the check. For a moment she considered telling him they should split the bill, but everything happened so fast. It wasn’t like shereallyhad the funds to cover her half anyway.
But I will, she thought, remembering suddenly the payout Silva had promised her. If all went according to plan and she had twenty-five thousand dollars in her bank account by the end of the semester, she’d treat Kass to dinner at the most expensive restaurant in town.
For now, she allowed him to take her unabashedly by the hand and lead her out of the restaurant. He forgot to put up the umbrella charm, so they were drenched in the fifteen seconds it took to get into his Subaru. They were both laughing and wet and for a brief, electric second she thought she might kiss him, or that he might kiss her, but the moment passed. Kass started the car and pulled away from the restaurant.
“What’s next on the agenda, Mr. Mysterious?” Dani asked, smothering her disappointment with the promise of the rest of the evening.
“Please, just call me Kass,” he said. “I think we’re at that level now. And I prefer to show, not tell, if you don’t mind waiting just a little bit longer.”
“Fine,” Dani said with mock impatience. “But this had better be good.”
Seventeen
This time Kass did take them downtown. Dani watched the glittering lights of the warehouses repurposed into clubs and breweries go by, glad it was a Thursday, and a rainy one at that. There was a certain charm to downtown on a low-energy, bad-weather night, like a poem written by a lonely heart under black light.
“Are we going to a bar?” Dani asked.
