Chapter Text
Baz kicks me out of my house the next morning. I don’t know why. He didn’t answer any of my questions or care when I said I wanted to spend the day with him.
“Go to Bunce’s or something. But don’t get in trouble. And don’t come back until I tell you to.”
“What the fuck, Baz?”
“Just do it.” And then he quite literally shoved me out the door.
I’m sitting on Penny’s couch while she makes tea for us. She’s still half-asleep and honestly so am I. She sits next to me and we both nurse our drinks for a while.
“So,” she says. “What did you do?”
“No clue.”
“Hm.” She takes a sip. “Were you that bad?”
Somehow I know what she means. “No! Ouch. Penny. Just—no. His mum’s memorial was yesterday. Why would you think that would be on our minds?”
She shrugs. “Because you’re you?”
I hate that she’s right. “Can we just watch movies or something until he calls?”
“Sure.”
So we do. For six hours. When my cell rings I fall right off the couch in my haste to answer it. “Six hours!”
“I know. But you are going to thank me.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. Come home.” He hangs up and I stare at it with my mouth hanging open. (My heart gives a little thump. When did he start calling my place home? Can that never change?)
“That’s it? Just ‘you’ll thank me, mate’?”
“Since when does Baz have a cockney accent?”
“Not the point.”
She shrugs. “Do you want me to drive you?”
“No.” It’s faster to magic myself. I lean over and peck her on the forehead. “Thanks for wasting the day with me.”
She smiles and pats my head. “Anytime. Now go make up or whatever.”
When I magic myself to my house, Baz is standing just in the doorway. His eyes are bright, and he’s smiling but I can tell he’s antsy. He takes my hand and tugs me outside.
“Baz, what the—“
He puts a finger to my lips. “Just listen.” He shuts the front door so we’re standing in the mist. “You have done so much for me from the moment I met you.” He moves his finger from my lips so he can cup my face. “And this whole time, I have wondered ‘how can I repay him?’’” He shakes his head at me when I open my mouth to say something. I close it. “There was something you said to me, I don’t know if you remember it. You said ‘you never have to fight alone.’ And it…” His brows are furrowed and I can see he’s struggling for words. It’s a rare sight. He shakes his head like what he’s thinking isn’t enough.
“I think about that a lot,” he says at last, and I can tell from the weight of his breath that it’s an understatement. “And…I want you to know you have more people in your corner, too.”
“Of course, Baz…” I trail off when he shakes his head again.
“For someone who has struggled so much, you are surprisingly romantic. I mean that both literally and figuratively. And, Simon, you deserve your happy ending. I want to give that to you.”
“You have.”
“I am not enough.”
What an appalling thing to say. “Yes you are!”
“No.” I don’t know why he’s so adamant about this. Does he not know how special he is to me? Has he not figured out I’m crazy about him? “You deserve to be surrounded by love, Simon. And I figured out how to do that for you.” He smiles and holds my face in both of his hands. “This took more than six hours, I assure you, but I think I have finally found a way to thank you for everything you have done for me.”
“Baz…you never had to thank me.”
“I did. I do.” He presses a kiss to my forehead, then steps back and opens the door for me. He holds out his hand. “Please.” I take his hand and he leads me through the house. I’m looking around for something different, but the interior is exactly as I left it. When the hallway narrows towards the kitchen, Baz gently nudges me in front of him.
I hear shuffling and gentle swearing and the sound of my broken table creaking.
I round the corner, and standing in my kitchen is a man and an old woman. He’s looking jumpy and she’s fussing with her wand as the table collapses and then reforms. It groans and creaks before it settles whole and hale like it was before the Mage broke it.
I’m frozen in place. Baz clears his throat behind me.
“Oh!” The old woman rushes forward and I think she wants to embrace me, but she stops just short of doing so. “Simon Snow!” The man also steps forward, stopping just behind her. “We have been waiting to meet you!”
I must look as confused as I feel because she takes both of my hands in hers and gives them a good shake, not a handshake, mind you. She’s shaking my whole arms. With feeling. “Perhaps I should have started with my name, dear.” She squeezes my hands. “My name is Lady Ruth Salisbury.”
“And I’m Jaime Salisbury,” the man says, offering an open smile. He’s just as excited as she is.
The world freezes and the only thing I hear is Balthazar naming my family tree for me. His scholarly tone announces that my mother is dead, my father is considered dead, and I have a grandmother and an uncle.
And they’re right here.
She pulls me in the tightest, warmest hug as tears trace down my cheeks. It’s a hug that is full of generations of love. It’s better than Penny’s. And it’s only better because this hug belongs to me, given to me by my family.
My family.
Jaime comes around on my other side and hugs me while I make a fool of myself and cry in front of these people I’ve just met. Yet I don’t feel bad about it. Because they’re my family. And they’re just as happy to see me.
When I’ve composed myself enough to pull away, Jaime busies himself with taking out the cakes they brought. Lady Ruth bustles around in the kitchen like she’s lived here for years. She pulls out old blue china and sets to making tea. “Exactly as I remembered,” she’s saying to herself as she examines one of the cups.
When I turn to Baz, I realize he’s snuck away.
“Come, sit down,” Lady Ruth says as she finishes setting the table. “Tell me everything I’ve missed.”
I do.
****
Lady Ruth—Ruth—and Jaime stayed past dinner. I’ve never talked so much in my life. And when they gathered their things to leave, Ruth didn’t give me a chance to be sad about it. She kissed me on the cheek, gave me a hug, and told me she planned on seeing my face as often as I could stand. As it turns out, she doesn’t live all that far away.
When Baz came home, I kissed him senseless. I thanked him in all the ways I know how. And then I told him everything.
****
It’s early morning and the birds, not the sun, wake me up. Baz and I fell asleep in my guest room after talking most of the night away. The curtains in this room block out light, but not sound. I’m tempted to go back to sleep, but with lids half open I see Baz and it hits me that today is our date. A jolt of nervousness goes through me, chasing sleep away.
Today’s our first date.
It’s going to be a lot of fun. But I also hope he likes it. (I don’t know, I still sometimes feel like he’s going to realize he can do so much better and leave.) (Yes. Even after what he did for me yesterday.) (And if you thought I struggled with letting Agatha go, you can imagine how pathetic I’ll be if he tries—emphasis on tries as I will certainly be grabbing onto his legs because my life depends on it.)
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. Baz is still asleep and I don’t feel like moving. That feeling intensifies when he moves to rest his cheek against my bare chest. It reminds me that I started the night with a shirt on and so did he. It reminds me that there were moments last night when we were exploring instead of talking. We didn’t do much more than that because I was riding an emotional rollercoaster from meeting my uncle and grandmother.
Still.
I think about the way he grabbed me and held on when I hovered over him, the way his fingers left indentions first in my biceps and then my lower back. I think about the careless way he rid me of my shirt, and the impatient way I did the same for him. His hands cooled the fire that was my skin and I remember thinking that if ever he were to burn, then this was how it would happen. He’s the kind of cold I want to cover, and chest to chest, my tongue in his mouth, I was going to be sure to warm him all the way through.
My name was a breath on his lips, one that I stole before it could become more than yes and mmm…
Because before that he had already told me where he wanted me to touch him, he’d said to be gentle with him, he’d said not to stop and gentle, gentle, gentle. It scrambled my mind and made my chest hurt. And when I looked into his grey, grey eyes I realized the only thing he hadn’t asked of me yet was to love him and I…
Baz stirs, moving to press his mouth to my chest. His lips are cold and they make me even more aware of the way my chest flushes when I blush. “You are making me hungry.” His breath ghosts across my skin and sends my heartbeat down into my bones.
“What?” My voice is surprisingly neutral.
“You…” Baz moves so that we are torso to torso. His eyes are so, so grey. He dips his head so his nose comes to rest at my racing pulse. “Are making me hungry.”
And then I understand what he means.
Last time he threatened to eat me, I had thrown away all self-preservation and tilted my neck to him. This time my self-preservation doesn’t bother to make an appearance. I thread my fingers at the nape of his neck and hold his mouth to my pulse, gripping in the way I know he likes courtesy of last night. I don’t have to say anything for him to know it’s less of an invitation and more of a request.
His chuckle is breathless and his voice is deep and I love it. I love it so much. He places open-mouthed kisses there and I can feel the difference in the predatory way he tastes me. He’s very intentional and slow with his tongue and I think he’s genuinely considering biting me. For my part, I’m entranced enough that he could drain me dry and I’d thank him.
He takes my hand from his hair and pulls away. He stares down at me, bemused. “You really would let me.”
“I absolutely would,” I say without shame. “Too bad you don’t drink human blood. I’m tasty.”
“I believe it,” he says, but there’s something there…something in his eyes doesn’t quite fit with our banter.
I put a palm to his cheek. “What’s wrong? What I said didn’t land with you.” I feel the subtle way he shifts, like he would prefer to not have this conversation when I can see his face. To his credit, he stays.
“It would kill the mood.”
“That’s fine. I can always bring it back to life.” I grin at him and his face softens.
“The…” he huffs, rolls his eyes and continues, “blood situation. It has been harder for me…since I Turned the Mage.” He clears his throat. “Human blood. It’s good.” For the length of a heartbeat I don’t understand. I try picturing him going on a spree like a vampire alcoholic. It doesn’t work.
And then I remember that in order to Turn my dad, he had to drink his blood.
“Oh,” I say, acutely aware of how closely he’s watching my reaction. I can’t even be self-conscious about it because it all falls into place. “Oh. Is that what you meant? About how Turning him made you dislike what you were becoming? You like human blood and now you crave it?”
His face is grim. He nods once. I can see him steel himself for my rejection.
I palm my forehead. “Oh my god that makes so much more sense!”
I’ve lost him. “What?”
I grin. “For the life of me I couldn’t figure out what you meant. Like, did you think you were a bad person because you liked the idea of going around Turning people? Or was it because you felt like you had no sense of guilt or morals?” I shrug. “I convinced myself you thought you were becoming some kind of super-villain.” (The fact that I didn’t say anything shows I was willing to go along with it.)
That aside, no wonder he prefers to be at my place over his. Lots of people come and go at his place, and his family is bigger than mine. My house sees three people tops. It also explains why he disappeared for a hot minute there. He was probably getting his cravings under control.
He opens his mouth, closes it, tries again but only a half-choked sound comes out. He raps my forehead with his knuckles. “Did you hear what I said? Is anyone home?”
I push his hand away. “What I heard is that my vampire boyfriend found out human blood is tastier than unicorns and various wildlife.”
“So you did hear me. How are we still not on the same page?”
“Because you’re so wrapped up in thinking the worst of yourself that you can’t see how normal it is.” Now it’s my turn to knock on his head. “Hello? Vampires like human blood. I’m dating a vampire. Does what it says on the tin.”
“I…” He’s having trouble with this, which is fair. I don’t think he’s ever considered that his taste for people is as much expected as my taste for butter. “What if I only want to eat humans?”
“Then okay.” I don’t even have to think about it. “I’d only say to be careful because you’re being watched right now, but I’ll help you get away with it the best I can.”
He stares. “You’re mad.”
“Actually, hang on,” I tilt my head, putting more thought into this hypothetical than he does. “I guess all I ask is that you don’t kill anyone. I mean, yes, moral reasons and all that, but mostly you wouldn’t be able to handle it if you did. You could barely stomach Turning my dad and he’s easily your arch-nemesis.”
“Why?” There’s a lot weighted in his question. I guess now is a good time to address it.
“Basil. Baz.” My tone is serious. “You are a vampire. You are going to have to deal with this for a long time.” I’m aware of the understatement, but neither of us like to look too far into the future. “It’s your choice how you want to handle it. That’s why. Because regardless of anything you will find people who respect your decisions and love you anyway.” I brush a lock of hair from his face. “I know you don’t believe me, so I’ll prove it, every day, until you do.”
He flops down next to me like he’s lost all of his energy. I turn on my side so I can watch him watch the ceiling. I don’t know if he’s thinking about what I said or if he’s stuck on the fact that I really don’t care that he occasionally acts like a vampire. Either way, I give him the space to sort it out in his head. I know he’s finished when he turns onto his side to face me. The crease between his eyebrows is smooth.
“How do you know you taste good?”
“Because sometimes you look at me like I’m a plate of biscuits left unattended at a child’s party.”
“That is…oddly specific.”
“It’s a very specific look.”
He gives an inelegant snort, then mutters, “Biscuits.”
“Do you disagree?”
“A bit.”
I sit up onto my elbow. “Really? What do I smell like to you, then?”
“I am not answering that.”
I shove him, but that doesn’t do me much good at all. It’s like shoving a wall. “Oh come on, what do I smell like?”
“Good. That is all you need to know.”
I think he’ll tell me one day. His eyes don’t have an edge to them like when he’s decided to be stubborn about something. I think it’s just that we’ve talked too much about vampire things and he’s reached his limit. I let it drop for now. So long as I can pry it out of him eventually, I’m content to let it go. (But he did say I wasn’t entirely wrong, so does that mean I smell sweet? If it’s anything like biscuits, I’d want to eat me, too.)
I trace my finger up his arm to turn his thoughts to better things. By the time I get to his collarbone, his eyes are much softer. “So, our date. I’ve been thinking how we’ve gone about things out of order.”
“If this is where you introduce yourself to me again, I am leaving.”
My finger pauses at his sternum. “You threaten that a lot. I’m beginning to think you’re bluffing.”
He scoffs indignantly. “Me? Bluff?” I can hear generations of Pitches lay the drama on thick. It makes me laugh and he does too. He grabs my hand and holds it to his heart. “Okay, fine. You were saying?”
“Well, I can’t change doing things out of order, but there is one thing I really want to get right.” I pause. He raises an eyebrow, waiting. “Before I tell you, you have to be serious about it.”
“Should I be scared?”
“It does involve letting me borrow your car.”
“For what purpose?”
“I want to pick you up.”
To his credit, he is perfectly serious. “From my family’s home?” I nod. “How would I get there from here? I cannot spell myself that far.”
“I can magic you there—straight into your bedroom if you like.” I can tell he’s trying to see if I’m joking. I’m not. I know it’s ridiculous, but I’ve only been on a handful of dates and circumstances have never lined up for me to pick them up. It’s a very normal thing I want to experience.
He nods. “Alright.”
My heart jumps. “Really?”
“Yes. I can tell this is important to you.” He sits up and sneaks a kiss to the mole on my cheek on the way. “We have already slept half the day away. If this date is going to happen, we need to get ready.”
I don’t “jump” out of bed (more like bounce) while Baz pulls on his shirt. He’s a bit lazy about it, taking his time to stretch and run fingers through his hair. It’s very distracting. I want to kiss him, but going down that route will delay us further. I take comfort in knowing that I can kiss him all I want after our date. Or during. And during.
Baz comes to stand in front of me. “Okay. Send me home.” I’m about to when he takes a step back and points at me. “If you take this opportunity to tell me to ‘Go Away’ to see if I end up in the fucking—“
I wave my hands in front of my face. “I won’t, I won’t! Promise. No trips to the abyss or California.”
“The abyss is fine,” he grouses. “I am more worried about California.”
I give a startled laugh. “What?”
He gives me a look. “It is always sunny in California.”
Personally I think he could use a tan, but being a vampire and all that, he probably wouldn’t appreciate it. “No trickery,” I say solemnly, despite my grin. “Straight to your bedroom and no detours.”
He’s still suspicious when he says, “good,” but he gestures permission for me to send him off. I give him a dainty wave with my fingers while I magic him to his bedroom. He’s gone in a wink and I chuckle the whole time I get ready. Honestly it had never crossed my mind to test ‘Go Away.’ What a wasted opportunity.
****
I take full advantage of Baz’s car. I drive with the music blasting and the windows rolled down even though it’s cold outside and probably going to start raining before I get to his house. I don’t care. I run hot and Baz likes my hair windswept. I’m singing at the top of my lungs, the car taking the serpentine forest road fast and easy. Baz’s mansion comes into view just as the first raindrops patter the window. By the time I park the car and hop the steps to the front door, it’s properly raining.
I do that stupid little five-beat knock and ring the doorbell. I could have just texted him, but I want the full thing.
Be careful what you wish for.
The door opens and my smile freezes on my face at the sight of stark white hair. Malcolm stares back. Everything I’d planned to say to Baz gets traffic-jammed in my throat and a nervous croak comes out instead.
“Simon Snow.” God the way he’s staring at me makes me feel like a fifteen year old kid and not the full grown adult that I am. (I asked for the full experience. I should have asked to leave this bit out.)
“Hello,” I say, more coherent this time. “I’m here for Baz.”
He looks me up and down. My face is hot. “He is getting ready.”
“Okay.” We stare at each other and this is easily the most awkward moment of my life. Malcolm doesn’t invite me in or excuse himself with some half-baked lie. Of course not. He is perfectly content to watch me suffer. I am so uncomfortable I want to comment on the weather. The fucking weather.
“Are those for him?” He’s staring down at what I’m holding and the urge to shove the flowers behind my back is immense. Look, I bought them because Baz explicitly told me not to be cheesy and go overboard with the theatrics. I bought them because I thought it would be fun to see his face. Wow karma is biting me in the arse so hard right now.
To make matters worse, rational thinking takes a backseat and I’m holding them out to him. “For you, actually,” I say.
Malcolm stares. Then he takes them. “Thank you.”
“Uh, yeah.” I rub the back of my head. I notice Baz pause halfway down the stairs to the foyer when he sees what’s happening. He’s got a horrified look on his face. I try to make S.O.S. eyes at him but Malcolm is still staring at me so it’s hard to pretend that I’m not doing exactly that. Baz rushes forward.
“You yelled at me last time we met.”
Baz stops.
So does my heart. “I—I did.” He doesn’t say anything else and I realize that’s my cue to apologize. “I’m sorry,” I say. I gesture to the flowers to salvage the hot mess those turned out to be. “It wasn’t my place.” Except it kinda was because otherwise they were content to leave Baz out to sea with no boat or paddle.
Malcolm turns the flowers around in his hands. When he looks up at me there’s a spark of life in his eyes. “You were right.”
“Huh?”
“You were right to stand up for him.” He holds the flowers out to me. “My wife gave her life for our boy and I had forgotten. You reminded me what is important. Thank you.”
Dumbfounded, I take them.
Malcolm doesn’t say anything else. He turns and pats Baz on the shoulder as he passes. I swear I hear him tell Baz to have fun. Baz doesn’t know what to do anymore than I do. He watches Malcolm disappear behind one of many doors before joining me, his steps unsure. He eyes me like he’s looking for any sign that I’ve been tongue-lashed. Then he sees the flowers in my hands and frowns.
“I told you not to,” he says.
“I know.” I hold them out to him. “Consider it a lesson learned. Please take the apology-thank-you flowers.” I push them against his chest when he makes no move to take them. “Burn them for all I care.” I don’t want a single reminder of the most uncomfortable ten minutes of my life. I’ve been in a lot of awkward situations. That’s saying something.
Baz takes them, and then gives me a sly smile. “You know what? I think these would look nice in a blue vase.”
“Please don’t,” I beg, all the more pathetic looking with the rain at my back.
Baz snickers and heads to the car, using the umbrella I had brought and leaving me to use my magic to stay dry. It doesn’t escape my notice that he holds the flowers with care. That bastard. Grumbling to myself, I follow him to the car and hop into the driver’s seat. It’s quiet until we get to the main road.
“I did not plan that, by the way.” There’s a smile in his voice that would normally make me suspicious he’s lying, but Baz isn’t that cruel. “He never answers the door.”
“I gave him the fucking flowers.” My face still hasn’t recovered.
“I think it made him rethink turning you away.” Baz is trying really hard not to laugh and he’s failing. I can hear him snickering behind his fist. “Really, though, why did you do it?”
“I didn’t think, I just…” I mime the act of shoving the flowers at the steering wheel. “Somehow I think it made him hate me less?”
“He has been asking about you recently.”
“Coulda warned me about that.”
“I just thought he was taking an interest in my life. He asks about a lot of things now.”
I think back on what Malcolm said to me. Once I sift through the embarrassment I can see he was just as uncomfortable as me, although for an entirely different reason. He dropped the ball so hard where Baz is concerned that picking it up again is probably monumental for him. He wasn’t just thanking me for helping him see reason, I think he wants to get to know me so that he can be a bigger part of Baz’s life.
It helps me understand why Baz hasn’t cut him out. Malcolm really is trying to be a better parent. I’m surprised that I don’t want to hold a grudge against him. I’m happy for Baz, for both of them.
“Well,” I huff. “I get it now.”
Baz seems to read my mind because he doesn’t ask for clarification. He just says, “Good.”
We don’t talk about heavy family stuff for the rest of the trip. This is a date, after all; a chance to unwind and have fun and be gross. There isn’t room for anything else. Baz is fine with that and so am I. I turn the music up and the two of us sing along to my date playlist. I sing okay. Baz upstages me at every turn. If his voice weren’t so heavenly, it would piss me off.
When I pull into the car park, Baz smirks at me. I focus very hard on parking instead of his face or I’ll end up crashing the car. “Was dating me a ruse so you could have a rematch?”
I put the car in park and give him my most incredulous look. “A rematch? Alcohol does wonders for your memory. Please, Baz, I wiped the floor with you last time.”
“If that is what you need to tell yourself…” He gets out of the car and heads into the building. We’re greeted with the sounds of arcade games, both new and retro. Following the length of the left wall is a glass counter that is meant to mimic a prize counter. I guess technically it is, except instead of cheap plastic toys and giant stuffed bears, you can buy food and alcohol with the game tickets.
I load up a little plastic card with enough money kid me could only dream about. Now it’s between my fingers and I wave it in front of Baz’s nose. “I know you hate to lose so there’s plenty on here for you to try, try again to beat me.” He makes to grab it but I dart away with a taunting grin.
He says something, but I’m too busy weaving between machines to hear him—probably something snarky. I pause in front of the air hockey machine and wait for him to accept my challenge. He does, of course, and by the wrinkle in his brow, he’s more serious than he wants to let on. With a laugh, I swipe the card and the machine hums to life, cool air blowing through tiny holes in the tabletop.
I grab my paddle.
Baz has already shot the disk in my direction. It sinks into the slot before I can react and the game dings as a point lights up on the scoreboard for Baz. I gape at him. He shrugs.
I snatch the disk, slap it on the table, lining it up for what I hope is a perfect shot, but honestly it’s all for show because my aim with these things is shit. That’s okay. I hit the paddle with enough force to knock it wildly against the sides of the table. Who needs accuracy when unpredictability works just as well?
And then I remember Baz is a vampire.
Which means he’s fast when he wants to be. (Like right now.)
He strikes the puck, sending it straight past my defenses and into the goal. The game dings merrily and I glare at him. This might be a losing battle, but dammit I’m going down fighting. I toss the puck back onto the table and hit it back to him without pause. I play as fierce a game as Baz plays a lazy one. I swear enough to draw attention from passerby which only makes Baz laugh harder.
I stare at the scoreboard while tickets spit out on Baz’s side. 32 - 2. I scored once because Baz sneezed and the second time because I pretended he’d hit the puck too hard and it hit my fingers. My yelp had shocked him just enough to lose focus and I took full advantage. (I regret nothing.)
I pretend to ignore him when he comes up to me, holding his string of tickets triumphantly. “Come on, Snow,” he says, draping the tickets across my neck and holding the ends so he has me trapped. He tugs very gently on them. “You would have hated it if I let you win.”
His gloating face is sexy. It makes it hard to focus on being a sore loser and I’m certain he knows it. I pat his cheek. “I picked a game that lets you cheat. That’s on me.”
He looks appalled. “Cheat? Is that what you think of me, Snow?”
“Tell me you didn’t use your vampire senses to their full extent and I’ll believe you.” I’m lying, of course. I wouldn’t believe him in the slightest. But if he tells me he didn’t, he’s a liar too. He slides the tickets from my neck and searches for our next game. I grin and give him a peck on the chin.
Baz and I take turns choosing the games and are generally evenly matched so long as it’s not a game that works to his advantage. I beat him at skii ball. He beats me at the race car game (he figured out how to drift and I just kept crashing into walls because it was fun). We both suck at the mini basketball game. We draw at foosball. He hits the jackpot on the little light machine where you have to hit the buzzer just right to score big. Watching the machine spit out over a hundred tickets while Baz stood triumphant was more of a turn-on than I expected. After he gathered up his tickets I shoved him into a photo booth and made out with him. When his hair was rightly mussed, I made sure to get photos to remember it.
In between all of that we’re blowing our tickets on alcohol and snacks. We’re properly sloshed by the time we make it to the Just Dance machine. It’s one of the fancy ones with two platforms. Baz saunters up, confident as anything even though I can see he’s blinking at the screen like the words are in another language.
“Does being a vampire make you a lightweight?” I say with the full confidence of a hypocrite. I’m slurring my words.
“Says the guy who tripped on the way over here.”
“My shoe’s untied.”
He glances down, but not far enough to look at my laces.
He licks his lips and it is obscene.
I very much don’t want to be in public anymore. Baz meets my eye and I know he’s thinking the same thing. We still have too many tickets, but we both know we’ll die of alcohol poisoning before we use them all. Well. I will. Baz will just have a ten-year hangover.
“Should we—?”
“Yes.” Baz says.
It takes me two tries to grab hold of his hand. We stumble like two idiots back to the car. It isn’t until we’re both buckled in that Baz gasps and throws out his arm. He smacks me in the chest hard enough to make me lose my breath.
“You can’t drive!” He says. “I can’t either…drunk.”
I rub my chest. “I know. I was just going to…” I make a poof motion with my hands.
He relaxes and nods. “Just don’t test ‘Go Away.’”
“Now’d be the perfect time,” I whine.
He shakes his head. His hair is a mess but I know I can make it worse. That’s what I think about when I pull my magic. I think about what’s waiting for us on the other side…I close my eyes and…
It happens in a blink. One second we’re in the car park, the next—
“Snow.”
I open my eyes. “Yeah?”
“Where the fuck are we?”
The question is just outrageous enough for me to look out the side window. I’m expecting to see my house and a lazy street. Instead people are flooding all around us, wearing bright jewelry and hats and clothes and headpieces. There’s confetti and people dancing and hollering. The music is so loud that it shakes the car. People peek in on their way past, urging us to follow along.
“Um.” I roll down the window. “Excuse me?” I say, but my voice doesn’t carry so I have to shout. A guy with skin so tan I’m jealous, leans down. “Where are we?”
The man holds his stomach as he lets out a boisterous laugh that’s so infectious I’m laughing too. He throws his hands wide. “Costa del Sol, my friend! La feria de Fuengirola!” Still laughing he continues down the street.
“Baz,” I say in awe, “I think I’m drunk enough to understand him. A fair. We’re at a fair.”
“Simon.”
I turn to him. “Yes?”
“Did you bring us to Spain?”
I pause. And then I’m laughing. “Yeah, I think I did.”
“What are we going to do now?”
Still laughing I unbuckle my seatbelt and do the same for him. I open my door wide enough to slip through. When he doesn’t move, I squeeze through the crowd to his side of the car to open the door for him. “Well? Are you coming?”
He doesn’t hesitate to take my hand.