Page 3 of Hex Appeal
For a handful of heartbeats, it was the kind of kiss that rewrites your day: mint and peach and that faint graphite smell from his sketchbook. His hands steadied me at the small of my back, careful as if he thought I might break. The world narrowed until it was just our breathing. When the sparks hit, it felt like someone had run a thread of static through both of us: bright, painful, beautiful. Even as I tasted the ghost of the gloss, I wanted to hold onto the way his mouth softened around mine.
Then heat flared, not the good kind of heat and literal sparks shot from my lips to his.
Nate jerked back. “What the hell?”
“I—uh—have to go.” I scrambled up, smacked my head on the table, and bolted, cheeks burning.
At the last second, I glanced over my shoulder. Nate stood in the hall confused, but in the mirror behind him, something dark moved. This time it was smiling at me.
Chapter 2
Jess
I slammed the dressing room door behind me so hard the mirror rattled in its frame. Then, I pressed my back to it and tried not to hyperventilate.
Okay. That could have gone better.
I’d finally kissed Nate and managed to turn it into a Fourth of July firework show. Romantic? Sort of. Terrifying? Definitely.
And the thing in the mirror… nope. Not thinking about that. Probably just a trick of the light. Or a concussion. Or both.
I peeled myself off the door and stared at my reflection. Still me: brown hair in a ponytail, green eyes wide, lipstick, or rather, gloss, slightly smudged. My star-shaped beauty mark looked regular. The mirror behind me looked normal.
Until it didn’t.
The glass rippled, like someone had tossed a pebble into a pond. Then, a hand emerged, Nate’s hand, followed by Nate. Only… not.
That Nate had a sharper posture, eyes with a strange silver glint, and a confident smile that could melt steel beams. He stepped out of the mirror like it was a doorway.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said, his voice warm and knowing. “I’ve been waiting so long to meet you.”
Before I could speak, his arm slid around my waist, pulling me in close. His kiss was immediate; no shy pause, no awkward bump of noses, no hesitant brush of lips before pulling back. Not like just a few moments ago under the ticket table.
The real Nate had been different. Sweet. Careful, like he was worried he might scare me off if he pushed too hard. Even when the sparks had blazed and we both pulled back in shock, there’d been a softness in it, like he was holding something precious.
This was nothing like that.
This Nate kissed like he owned the moment. Like he owned me. His mouth moved with precision, coaxing rather than asking, tilting my head just enough to make the angle perfect. His fingers pressed lightly at my waist, steady but not forceful, like he knew exactly where my centre of gravity was and how to use it. The air between us vanished, replaced by heat that rolled through me in sharp waves.
It was intoxicating. Wrong, but intoxicating.
For a dangerous, stupid heartbeat, I wanted to keep it. My knees felt looser, my chest tighter, and the noise in my head silenced until all I could hear was my own pulse. This wasn’t sweet or hesitant. This was consuming. For one horrible second, I liked that he didn’t hesitate.
Then, my brain snapped back into place. This wasn’t Nate. This was a stranger wearing his face, and every second I let it happen was a second too long.
I shoved him back. “Who the hell are you?”
His smile widened. “I’m Nate, but better. You can call me…” He paused and something flashed in his eyes. “Call me Etan. See you soon, beautiful.” Just like that, he stepped backwards into the mirror and vanished.
The glass rippled once, then stilled. My reflection looked like me again but shaken, flushed, and one bad decision away from being shipped to Salem and straight to magical jail. I ran out of the dressing room, back into the hallway. I needed to get home.
“Jessica!”
I jumped. Ms. Galloway, my history teacher, stood in the doorway to the gym. Her expression was half stern, half suspicious, which was pretty much her default setting.
“Have you seen Nate? His sketchbook, the ticket money, and half the tickets were on the floor, but he’s gone. It’s very unlike him.”
Panic zinged through me. I forced a smile. “Maybe he went home sick,” I said quickly. “It’s hot in here.”
