Page 67 of Witch You Would
It didn’t make sense. Yesterday, and in the first round, he’d done silly stuff that looked like his usualMage You Lookoopsies, but none of it had actually affected our spells. We’d talked about how important it was for both of us to win. We’dmade a plan! A schedule! Why would he intentionally wreck things today?
He wouldn’t. Not unless he was a lying liar who lies and I was totally wrong to trust him. Did I believe that? No. So somethingelse must have happened. Which meant I’d been an asshole to him again.
Maybe I should accept that the problem was me. Leandro shifted from flake to focused like he was changing a jacket, but itwas my job to compensate. And I didn’t even have to! He was doing the work, and I was refusing to meet him halfway when hemade reasonable suggestions for how to solve problems. He didn’t know why I couldn’t use that pressure-cooking method. Itprobably would have saved our spell, and instead, we’d once again survived because someone else’s magic combusted. Literally.
I had to apologize ASAP.
We all climbed out of the van at the hotel, said good night, and separated to our rooms a mimir. I thought about tracking Leandro down, but I was starting to get a forehead ache from working magicfor too long on little sleep. Thankfully tomorrow was our rest day. No filming, no field trips, no promo stuff.
That meant I should have plenty of time to make things right with Leandro.
Part of me wanted to avoid him, because apologizing was hard, and so was explaining why I’d freaked out. Another part of mewanted to get it over with, rip off the bandage so we could get back to work—assuming he’d even forgive me, which, this wasthe second time I was shitty to him, so maybe not.
The rest of me wanted to climb him like a tree, even with his awful mustache. I had dry humped the shit out of him on thefloor of that casting booth, and if the lights hadn’t gone out, my shirt probably would have come off.
What was I thinking?
I wasn’t morally opposed to one-night stands or booty calls or friends with benefits. I’d had random make-outs with near-strangersat college parties twice, dates that had led to sweaty fun times, a couple of boyfriends who hadn’t lasted more than the fewmonths it took to get past the new-relationship energy. After I started working six days a week, I was too drained to eventhink about opening a dating app. If I didn’t want to be alone, I’d hang out with friends. If I wanted an orgasm, a vibratorwas more likely to get the job done.
Leandro made me want things. He made me want him, specifically. Not that he was deliberately trying to get in my pants—well,maybe he was, but he wasn’t playing me or manipulating me. He wasn’t leading me on. He’d told me he doesn’t date and why,and his reasons made sense.
It must be the stress, and the fact that we were stuck together all day, every day. That was supposed to make people horny,right?
As tired as I was, I lay awake with all these thoughts running around in my head like my aunt’s hyper dogs. Finally I managed to make myself relax by remembering I’d be able to talk to my sister tomorrow. Maybe she’d have some wisdom for me.
Sleeping in was amazing! Is a thing I wished I could say.
The hotel room had blackout curtains, so without an alarm yelling at me to get up, I figured I would chill in Club Cama untilmy body was fully rested. Instead, stress dreams led to cold-sweat awakeness where I was absolutely, positively sure I’d belate for work. Once I remembered I was unemployed and this was my day off, I was too wired to go back to sleep.
I couldn’t find Rachel, keeper of the cell phones, so I stole a million tiny waffles from the breakfast bar and stress-atethem with my hands like chips until she made an appearance.
“Remember, you can’t talk about the show,” Rachel said as she handed me my phone from the magically warded box. “You can checkyour email and voicemails, talk to your emergency contact, that kind of thing. Absolutely no posting on socials. If you haveany questions, let me know.”
I had a lot of questions, but none she could answer. I ran back to my room and threw myself on the bed, texting Emelia.
Me:got my phone back for the day
Me:can I call you
Me:say yes or I’ll have to day drink
Eme:free mimosas what what
Me:I wish
Me:just coffee and juice
Eme:boo
Eme:let me go to my car
Eme:for PRIVACY
I zoned out until my cell started playing Emelia’s ringtone. “Eme, ahh! Don’t ask me about the show because I can’t talk aboutit.”
“What if I just ask yes-or-no questions?”
“No way! I don’t want to get jumped by lawyer ninjas.”
