The next morning came with golden sunlight spilling through the cream curtains, gently nudging me awake like a well-mannered mother.
But I didn't open my eyes.
Because I was warm. Like wrapped-in-a-toasty-tortilla warm.
Because Liam was still beside me. His arms around me. My face tucked perfectly beneath his chin. I could feel the soft rise and fall of his chest, and honestly? I didn't want to move. Ever.
I just stayed there.
Listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, the faint scent of his cologne, and the distant birds doing their morning gossip outside the window.
Then something buzzed.
Bzzz. Bzzz.
My phone. Ugh. My peace—violated.
I groaned like a dying cat and reached for the nightstand without moving too much. Liam stirred slightly but didn't wake up.
Nathan: Morning, witchy girl. Meeting today? I want magic. I demand magic. Also—do witches eat pancakes?
I snorted.
"What?" Liam's sleepy, low voice mumbled behind me.
"Nothing," I said, trying to hide my grin. "Just a boy who thinks I'm a real witch and also deeply concerned about my breakfast choices."
He peeked open one eye. "Did you just say a boy?"
"Jealous, much?" I teased, stretching a little—okay a lot—and immediately realized my bra and shorts were very much still on me. And Liam's hand was very much on my waist.
Oops.
I rolled away slightly, now fully blushing. "We, uh... slept really close."
"You were crying in the middle of the night, remember?" he said, voice still half-asleep. "Not gonna leave you like that."
"Yeah… I do remember. And... thank you," I whispered.
His hand brushed a strand of hair from my cheek. "You're okay now?"
I nodded. "Still recovering. But less scream-y."
We both laughed softly.
Nathan (another text): HELLO? Are you ghosting me? Should I summon you with a pentagram or…?
I replied quickly:
Me: Calm down, baby magician. Meet you during lunch break at the back garden spot. Don't forget your broomstick.
I sat up and Liam finally dragged himself out of bed too, yawning and scratching his head like some hot caveman. He walked to the door, shirtless, of course, like he didn't know he was a walking Greek statue.
"I'll make breakfast," he said, tossing me a wink.
"Make extra. I'll need fuel to survive Nathan's energy."
Downstairs, the smell of pancakes and coffee floated up like some mythical scent spell. I slipped on a hoodie and jogged down barefoot.
Liam had made banana-chocolate chip pancakes. Satan could be forgiven if he made breakfast like this.
"You're spoiling me," I said, taking a bite.
"You're traumatised. There's a difference."
Fair.
I got ready for school after breakfast—showered, dressed in an oversized navy sweater and ripped jeans, my hair in a lazy bun. The usual Emma look: functional chaos.
Chloe picked me up, and her first words were: "Did Liam finally kiss you last night or are we still playing the emotional slow burn?"
"I had a horror movie nightmare where my mom's head fell off and rolled to my feet," I deadpanned.
Chloe blinked. "Okay, so not the kiss, then."
I laughed harder than I expected.
Once we reached school, we walked in like dramatic TV heroines—hair flying, iced coffees in hand, sarcasm loaded in our purses.
Nathan was waiting near the back garden spot. He wore a faded black hoodie with a moon and star design, and his face lit up when he saw me.
"You came!"
"Of course I came. You summoned me, remember? With the power of your annoying texts."
Chloe raised an eyebrow at him and whispered, "He's cute. In a baby duck kind of way."
Nathan stepped closer and grinned. "So where's the magic? You promised!"
"I said we'd talk about it. Calm down, Harry Potter."
He leaned forward. "So you really believe in all this? Magic, dreams, visions... powers?"
I hesitated for a moment. But something in his eyes—curiosity, a spark I recognized in myself once—made me drop the filter.
"I didn't. Not before. But now I know it's real."
His eyes widened. "And you have it?"
"Some of it," I said, lowering my voice. "But I told you this in confidence. Like, serious club rules apply here. Sworn secrecy."
He zipped his lips. "You have my soul. But also, I want in. Teach me."
Chloe gave him a skeptical once-over. "You sure you're not just into Emma?"
"I mean—yeah, but also the magic sounds cool."
We all laughed.
Soon, I introduced him to Edward, who arrived wearing sunglasses like he was hiding from paparazzi.
Edward raised an eyebrow. "New member?"
Nathan stuck out his hand. "Nathan. Definitely not evil. Just obsessed with sparkly weird things."
"Sounds like Emma's type," Edward mumbled.
Nathan was quickly accepted into the group like he had always belonged. He cracked jokes, shared cookies from his bag, and even claimed his goldfish once "glowed" under moonlight, which he took as a sign he was "chosen."
Only person left to meet?
Liam.
But for now, I kept that away. Just for a little longer.
Because something in me still needed that sacred space. Just me and Liam. Uncomplicated. Safe.
But something told me, that safety… wouldn't last forever.
Evening wrapped its soft arms around the city like a lullaby.
The sky outside my window was painted in lilac and peach. A gentle breeze swirled in through the half-open window, brushing past the sheer curtains like a whisper. I was curled up on the couch in one of Liam's oversized hoodies (aka my favorite life choice ever), legs tucked beneath me, sipping hot chocolate with a mountain of whipped cream—yes, a mountain. I earned it.
Chloe had just left, Edward was at some fencing practice or something weirdly dramatic like that, and Liam had texted that he'd be back late from a "business dinner." Which meant I had the whole house to myself.
Or so I thought.
Ding-dong.
I blinked. Okay, no one rings the doorbell this dramatically unless they're either a serial killer or—
"Peter," I said with a breathy half-smile as I opened the door.
He stood there, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a paper bag. His hair was a bit messy, his eyes soft and tired but… warm. Always warm.
"I come bearing snacks," he said, holding the bag up like a trophy. "And emotional support."
"You are so dangerously close to getting hugged," I said.
"I like danger."
I rolled my eyes and pulled him in by his hoodie strings, which he totally let happen, and we walked to the living room like two idiots who clearly liked each other but hadn't exactly figured it all out yet.
He dropped onto the couch, kicked his shoes off, and handed me the bag.
Inside: my favorite gummy bears and a blueberry muffin. I stared at it like it was a diamond ring.
"Okay. So. You want to date me or something?" I teased, only half-joking.
He laughed, then looked at me—really looked. "Would it be so bad if I did?"
My heart? Yeah, it did a triple flip and high-fived all my internal organs.
We sat there for a while. Talking about school, Nathan, how weird the mural thing still was. But the conversation slowly turned into silence—the good kind. The kind where you don't need words.
And then he reached over and brushed whipped cream off the corner of my mouth with his thumb.
"You always have whipped cream on your face," he said quietly.
"Maybe I do it on purpose so you'll touch me," I whispered.
He paused.
My breath caught.
And then his hand didn't move. It stayed on my cheek. His eyes flickered to my lips. Then back to my eyes. And for a moment, I could feel my entire world pause.
"I like being around you, Emma," he said, voice soft, almost hesitant. "Even when it's chaotic. Even when you're scared. Even when you're bleeding from the eyes and yelling at ghosts."
I laughed—but my eyes were already glistening. "Wow. So romantic."
"I mean it."
"I know," I whispered.
His hand slid down, finding mine. We sat there like that for minutes. Our fingers interlocked. His thumb softly drawing circles on the back of my hand.
Then the butterflies came. The kind that filled your stomach and chest and brain and made you want to cry and scream and kiss someone at the same time.
Peter leaned closer.
And closer.
And then I whispered, "If you kiss me now, I swear to God I might melt."
"Guess I better try."
His lips touched mine, soft and slow and warm. Nothing rushed. Just a quiet kind of fire.
It wasn't our first kiss.
But it felt like the one that mattered most.
When we pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine and closed his eyes.
"Don't disappear on me, okay?" he said.
"I'm not going anywhere," I promised.
We stayed like that. Couch cuddled. My head on his chest. His fingers drawing lazy lines on my arm. Every few minutes he'd kiss the top of my head like it was something he needed to do just to keep breathing.
Liam would be home later.
But right now?
Right now, this was mine.
Him.
Us.
The boy I'd fallen for.