Page 73 of A Witch in Notting Hill

“I’m not the one who has to believe in it.” He floated closer, and cold as I was, I could still feel the warmth of his body. He wasn’t shivering at all. No chattering teeth. No pale lips. Just flushed cheeks and droplets of water sitting on his long lashes like diamonds. “Come on, Willow. We’re freezing. And we have to just go for it, remember?”

Was I really going to let him into this? This cynical man who was undeniably bad for me? I was about to expose him to a Ritualistic Restoration Cleansing?

I knew the obvious answer was no, but I was unable to get my mouth to form the word. Maybe it was the cold. Or the shock. Either way, what came out of my mouth instead was “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“But I’m not telling you the words. Just... just follow my lead.”

“Gladly.”

Tempting as it was to try to get this over with as soon as possible, I needed to focus in order for it to work. I needed to lock in, center myself, and ignore the way Oliver was looking at me as if whatever came out of my mouth next was the most important thing he’d ever hear.

And I needed to ignore the way the pond was slowly starting to slosh up against the banks, waves forming with every glance,every brush of his skin against mine. I saw where this was going, and I didn’t like it.

“So,” I said, treading away to put some distance between us before a tsunami formed in the pond. “We float on our backs for as long as we can, eyes closed, letting the water wash over us however it wants. Ears, eyes, whatever. So long as you’re floating with your arms out and your face toward the sky.”

“Easy enough,” he said, closing the distance once again. When I tried to back up more, the small waves nearly doubled in size. He didn’t seem to notice, with our labored treading and the tension between us, but it was only a matter of time. “Then what?”

“Then I’m going to say the spell a few times—in my head, of course—until we slowly start to sink. Once our bodies are totally underwater, we hold for as long as possible, then take the biggest breath we can when we come back up.”

“Then we’re done?”

“Then we’re done.”

“Is the spell hard?”

“Not if I’m focused.” Which I wasn’t. Not even close.

“And are you?”

“Yes.”No.

“Go on, then,” he said, closing his eyes and floating onto his back. His fingertips brushed against me, and the waves rippled over both of us.Breathe,I reminded myself.You have no choice. This has to work.

I let my legs float to the surface so that Oliver and I were side by side, faces turned toward the early morning sky, dawn breaking in the silence. It would have been peaceful had the stakes not been so high and had my heart not been pounding out of my chest.

“Willow, relax,” Oliver said, his deep voice following the current.

“I am relaxed.”

“You are not.”

“Are you sureyou’renot the mind reader?”

I turned my head just enough to see his smirk from the corner of my eye. It didn’t help.

“You’re easy to read,” he said. “Very expressive. Which I’m sure is what makes you a good actor, yeah?”

“So they say.” This time he cut his eyes to me, and it was my turn to offer a small smile. “Stop distracting me.”

“Sorry, love.” He leaned back again, closing his eyes. “Carry on.”

Sure. No problem. I’ll just carry on.

I shook out my shoulders and went back to floating, trying to ignore Oliver and the current where there absolutely shouldnothave been a current. Both in the water and between us.

With my eyes closed and my arms stretched out, I gave the spell a try, repeating it like a mantra in my head.