Page 16 of The Bairwick Witches
Schuyler, who’d positioned himself on the bench seat in front of the turret’s windows, released the grip on himself and grabbed his phone, which had fallen between his legs, vibrating at the onslaught of messages and missed calls. It was past 9; they’d made plans for 7. Plans that completely dropped off Schuyler’s radar. He struggled for a moment. Should he lie? He was sick. Beau was sick. Issue at home.
Issac remained in his mind, ass up, urging him to come back. Schuyler sent a quick message apologizing profusely, citing a post-work headache which he tried to knock out with aquick nap once he’d gotten home, and accidentally slept through the date. He didn’t wait for a reply; Cal was a tomorrow issue. He set the phone on silent and returned to Issac, who eagerly received him.
Chapter Seven
Schuyler found no way to shake the teenage feeling; the hyper-fixation of insatiable thirst his crush on Issac awakened. The feeling left him antsy, his crotch throbbing, his mind on fire with a barrage of what ifs:What if he does come back? What if I make a fool of myself?A twenty-year gap meant they were two different generations in a world which continued to evolve quicker than he cared for.Can I relate to his experiences? Can he relate to mine? Is he emotionally mature enough?
The physical only went so far. Youth was for affairs which lasted a year and ended without a word. For passionate lovers who never exchanged names. For wasting six months on toxic ass men because the dick was next level. Schuyler felt too old to return to playing those games. Despite the unending desire to be a freewheeling, no-strings-attached love machine, as he once enjoyed, he preferred the anchor of a relationship. His marriage confirmed at least that, if nothing else. And without one to ground him he would lose precious years to fuck-bois, questing after those who did not return his affection, or dodging those whose interests outmatched his own. He’d be wrapped up inendless, repetitive conversations on apps, freely giving his time and energy away to anyone who swiped right.
Sky struggled for weeks on nailing down what he actually wanted. And the answer arrived to him in front of the feminine dryness remedies as he finished stocking the Luna Magica Rapida, a moon-water-based lubricant.
I guess I do want a relationship.
As with mosta-hamoments in his life, he acknowledged it, and then went on with his day. All it meant was that, as gaga as he felt in the moment for the young man, Issac was not for him. Just a fun distraction All it meant was as gaga over Issac as he felt in the moment, the young man was not for him. A fun distraction.
But his ass. That amazing, delectable ass. I hope it’s furry.
Lazily he continued stocking, pushing the cart through the shop, replacing items, straightening, but all the while daydreaming of beach sex with Issac. Who’d come in from the from the surf. Schuyler could taste the salty sea on his skin. They would kiss in the blazer of the burning sun. Sky’s fingers tugging at Issac’s purple, overfilled speedo
“So, help me, I’m going to slug you.”
Schuyler stopped the cart and focused on the tanned, grey-goateed face in front of him. Beau exhaled loudly, his eyes narrowed, annoyed. He’d forgotten Beau was working in the shop.
“What?” Schuyler asked.
“Girrrl, are you even payin’ attention to what you’re doing?” Beau moved around him, fixing the display of items Schuyler had put away in his dreamy wake. There was a certain clean and orderly aesthetic Beau insisted upon. “You sloppy-ass bottom, I swear to the Goddesses. You left the Rouge Me Right nipplerouges a hot damn mess. How do you expect them to sell? They took forever to make.”
“No one, and I say with this a great amount of certainty, rouges their nipples anymore, Beau.”
“Fancy witches with good taste and a little kink in their step do,” he snapped back. “Not everything is for the Tourists.”
He was not incorrect, while a lot of what was sold in the shop was geared to the Tourists, they also served the residents of Bairwick. Some witches ran two shops, one on Main and then one in town proper. Beau didn’t have the disposition, nor patience, to run two businesses so they catered to everyone in a single store. The items intended for them were sitting out in plain sight—a Witches’ favorite hiding place—but went unnoticed by Tourists.
“And these Sex Demon Summoning Kits, look at this display!” Beau shrieked at the haphazard way they’d been stocked. “C’mon Monkey, do you know how hard it was working with that damn Demon/Witch Coalition to get these approved for over-the-counter use? Where is your head at?”
Schuyler apologized, but he had no real excuse.
“Maybe you should take your lunch. And after, walk your happy little ass up to Endora’s Snack Shack and get me those little gummy cauldrons I love, and a Strawberry Frizzie. Please and thanks. Okay then, on we go.” He ushered Schuyler away from the cart and toward the door. “And don’t come back till you’re done being half-dazed about some twink.”
Beau refused to listen to any counter-argument and Schuyler was out in the street before he even realized. But his uncle wasn’t wrong. He turned right and started up Main. The street was bustling with Saturday activity. A couple of blocks up was the candy shop and he enjoyed being in the sun andair watching the Tourists, who were plentiful, milling about. Influencers running around making content about the shops and the vibe of Bairwick.
Schuyler put a little bounce in his step as he approached the lime green building that was Endora’s Snack Shack. Next to it was an English style Pub and Wally’s Wacky Tackies, a small thrift shop. He had not been this far up on Main since he’d been home. In front of the candy shop was a small collection of benches. As Schuyler drew closer, he noticed a familiar face. Issac sat on one of them, looking at his phone, eating recently purchased candy from the bag in his lap.
Should he? The desire to approach the young man, to make a move was strong.
He went right past the store to get here, if he wanted to see me, he’d have stopped by.
He couldn’t argue the logic. He reached the spot where it was either walk into Endora’s or go to the seating area.
I can’t just approach him. I’d be that old guy who creeped him out.
Youth was for making moves like that. Youth was for being brave.
Hey… was that another read? I’m still young, you ass! Just narrate the story please.
Schuyler, in a bid to prove the bold and fearless swagger he once bandied about still remained, he turned toward the seating area.
“Issac? Hi,” he said, stopping in front of the bench. “How are you?”
