Page 39 of Everything She Does Is Magic

“Do you want to sit on the car for a better view?”

Darcy nods, and I pop the trunk to set out one of the large blankets Cal keeps in the back—a patchwork quilt not unlike her signature jacket. It takes some situating, the sloping hood of the Volkswagen not very interested in accommodating us, but eventually we make it work, with the windshield acting as our headboard.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Darcy says once we’ve gotten settled.

And even though we’ve kissed and I know now that she must like me, it still feels rare to hear her gratitude. I’d go with you anywhere, I think but do not say.You’re the best part of every room I’m in.

We’re not touching. Not yet. Close, only inches between us, but not making contact.

“I needed a chance to see you again without the threat of my parents hovering,” I say.

“As you know, I can relate,” she responds with a small laugh.

It’s true. We’re both stuck inside our families’ expectations. She’s got the pressure of being asked to take over her parents’ whole empire, which, now that I’ve had the chance to see it up close, is more work than I’d want to do in a single lifetime.

I’ve got my family’s belief that I’ll be participating in the upcoming initiation. I have my eighteenth birthday. Adulthood, supposedly. With no tools to navigate it.

“Mine came to town earlier than I expected,” I say. “And before they got here, they asked me to do a dinner with my friends in Fableview, so I may have mentioned your name. Which is why I asked you that. In the supply closet.”

This is when I need to convince Darcy I really am a witch. There’s no way it won’t come up at the actual dinner, and it will be better for all of us if Darcy knows ahead of time.

But just the mention of the supply closet has made everything sharper, like a lens that’s locked its focus. Darcy sits up, leaning on her support arm so that she can tuck her head into her own shoulder.

“Are wefriends?” she asks teasingly, scrunching her nose and singing the words. She plants a quick kiss on my nose. “My dearfriendAnya.” She plants another on my cheek. “Dear, dearfriend.” One on my neck. One on my forehead.

Far be it from me to interrupt these kisses with my inconvenient truth.

“Mom, Dad, this is Darcy. We’re besties,”I say, catching on to the game. When she darts to kiss me again, I grab her, wrapping my arms around her middle until she’s pressed into my chest.

With only one movement, the lack of space between us sucks all the laughter out of the air.

Darcy Keller is on top of me.

I am holding her, feeling her heart against my own, her legs slotting perfectly between mine. It has the odd effect of calming me. Subduing the nerves that want to take hold of this moment.

“I’ve never dated anyone before,” I whisper as low as possible, a secret for Darcy and the stars. “I don’t know if I’m doing any of this right.”

Her head tilts to the side. It’s the same way she looked at the paintings that night I took her class. Curious. Interested. And maybe even a bit…admiring? Finally, she drops her head beside mine, presses her lips right against my ear, and whispers, “Are wedating?”

It might have been a ridiculous leap to make. But also, every activity we’ve done around Fableview has felt a little date-like. And, well, sheiscurrently on top of me, and all the other pressing matters between us don’t seem to matter half as much as this does.

She’s got that same teasing tone, but her question is valid. And true. Maybe it’s bad form to wonder, but I want to know what we are. There is so much about my life I don’t know, but this is something I need to understand.

“I’ve spent my whole life getting good at change,” I say. “I’ve lived in so many places, adjusting to a dozen different daily routines and rituals. It’s always been about how I can fit into someone else’s life. How I can learn whatever they want to teach me about our family. I’ve never had anything that belongs only to me. Except for this, with us. It’s mine.Ours, really.”

“Ours,” Darcy echoes. “I like the sound of that.” She holds my cheek with her palm, using the pads of her fingers to lightly brush the hair off my face. It’s so small. But also, it’s everything.“I don’t know exactly what we are, but I know it’s something I want to keep figuring out.” She strokes my hair.

“Me too,” I say.

She kisses me deeply. Slowly. It’s a new kind of kiss for us. All of this is new. But this one has a way of speaking.Whatever we are is the best thing anyone could ever be.

When she peels herself off me, I don’t even mind it. There is no rush. No expectations. She puts her hands behind her head. A drive-in movie theater where the only view is the water.

She pulls one knee up while the other stays flat. I put my finger on it to trace stars into her leg, hypnotized by the softness of her skin and the stillness of the night. How everything justis.

I feel the truth about tomorrow’s dinner forming in my mind, all the necessary pieces of information gathering together like the supplies that come to me when I’m mending. It might look broken on the surface, but I believe that I can fix it.

“Did you know my grandma was best friends with your grandma?” I start.