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Julianna’s drink was much more showy than his was. Old fashioneds were so rarely dressed up and he liked that. Owen tried his drink as she took a photograph of hers. While he wasn’t much into social media, he knew it was probably for that reason. While other men his age tended to complain about ‘people on always their phones’, it didn’t bother him.
It was very obvious to him that she didn’t like her drink. Her face kind of puckered up and she quickly put the drink down. Didn’t go for a second taste at all.
“I like bruschetta.” He agreed and before flagging down their waiter, he leaned forward some and in a confidential tone said, “You don’t like it, do you? May I?” He reached for her drink and tasted it with her permission and finding it rather tart. Perhaps that was what she didn’t like about it. He didn’t mind the taste and found it refreshing.
“Here.” He pushed his drink at her. “Try mine. Would you like to order something else?”
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He winked at her and her heart did a flip. "Are there really witch communities?" She didn't notice how she lowered her voice when she asked. There was a gulf a mile wide between Lagnford and Cedgewick when it came to tolerance, and it was usually only in her own shop that Julianna felt comfortable talking about magic and witches. Even though she found the topic fascinating.
Julianna blushed when he called her out about the drink, nodding for him to try it. "I like the lemon, but there's something about it that tastes like a Christmas candle smells." She laughed. She glanced down at her hands and then up at the drink he pushed towards her. She didn't reach for it right away. "Oh, I wouldn't- I mean. I'm not very familiar with liquor." Due to the aforementioned dryness of her hometown. She didn't want to take the chance of ordering another drink that would be wasted on her.
With a bit of hesitation, she picked up Owen's drink and took a small sip. "This is better," she commented, sounding pleasantly surprised.
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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Tree taste. “Most people either love it or hate it. You might like bourbon better, it’s kind of sweet and a little bit smoky.” He pushed at the drink when she hesitated to try it. Showing her it was okay. He nodded and smiled when she expressed her preference for the old fashioned. It was sort of hard to go wrong with that drink. “The best part of that is the liquor soaked cherry.”
Little bits were coming together to give Owen the impression that Julianna was a bit … innocent. She didn’t get out much. Didn’t go on many dates (though many women claimed that because they thought men liked to hear that sort of thing). And didn’t drink much alcohol. But, she was young and maybe he’d forgotten what younger women were like. He found it all rather endearing.
“Well -- as for Boston,” he said responding to her earlier question. “It’s a lot bigger than Langford.” Owen felt like he was admitting this fact rather than sharing. He didn’t want to come across as if he was criticizing the town or bragging about how much better his home was than this place. That was fully his opinion but he wasn’t trying to come across that way. Because that would be entirely insufferable and not the appropriate attitude for their date. “It’s busier.”
“There are witch communities, yes. Where I lived -- it’s called Hebhurst, it’s kind of like a borough. It’s a big witch community.” Owen was much less shy about open talk of magic. He didn’t lower his voice or lean in. In fact, he leaned back showing her this topic was nothing he was fearful to discuss or embarrassed about. “There’s a school for witches there from the youngest beginners up to college age students. I’m one of the professors. I test young witches coming to our academy for their talents and help place them in their specialties. I also teach some classes to the later high school age to college age students.”
Their conversation was briefly interrupted by the appearance of the waiter who observed that Owen and Julianna had traded drinks.
“She didn’t like it.” Owen explained, smiling.
“The gin?” The waiter asked. “Can I get you something else, sir?”
“No, this will be fine.” Owen nudged Julianna’s foot playfully under the table as he placed the order for their starter.
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"That's so amazing. I didn't know there were schools." Julianna placed her arm on the table and leaned into the conversation as he leaned away. As if she were chasing after the distance between them. Where Owen had come from sounded much more interesting than where he was now. "Why did you come to Cedgewick?" It didn't make any sense to her. Her hometown was the opposite of the place he had described. What could a witch possibly be hoping to find there?
Her questions came in waves and made the conversation a bit one-sided. It didn't occur to Julianna that he would have questions about her. She didn't think there was anything interesting for him to learn.
"It tasted like Christmas trees," she defended, smiling sheepishly up at the waiter with pink-tinged cheeks. She felt Owen's foot tap against hers. With a bit of boldness disguised as a casual readjustment the foot of her crossed leg rested easily against his calf.
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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“I’m doing a bit of detective work.” He said of his time in Cedgewick. “There’s this--” he glanced down at the table while he thought of how to phrase it, “--ailment that’s been affecting witches back east, and maybe out here, too, I’m not sure yet.” He paused and frowned as he considered just how widespread the issue could really be. “Well anyway, it was discovered that a coven of witches that used to live out in Cedgewick but were ran off say thirty or so years ago --and there’s some connection between this sickness and that coven. I’m trying to figure out the link and maybe track down one of the old members.”
He twisted his glass and his face took on some intrigue, his brow arching, “In fact,” his voice modulated higher as he was about to reveal the most interesting tidbit, “I’m living in their old house. The Maxillion household was the centerpiece of the coven.”
He then became more professorial, adjusting his glasses and frowning as he spoke. “It’s an interesting house. Geographically speaking, it sits on some crisscrossing ley lines,” His fingers spread out and his hands covered one another demonstrating a kind of grid as if to illustrate his point. “You can really feel the energy when you’re in the house. I’ve been meaning to map them out, but I haven’t had the time.”
His face screwed up and he shook his head, “I’m sorry. This must be terribly boring for you. Why don’t you tell me about you?”
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"It's not boring," she insisted. Her expression was lit up with her genuine interest in the topic. She traced the grid he made with his fingers with her own. "Ley lines were theorized in the nineteen-twenties by an amateaur archeologist, who noticed that ancient sites, at different points fell into an alignment." She recited this bit of knowledge that she had picked up from some research, hoping to impress him. She giggled, leaving her hand on the table next to his. "I'm not a witch but I hear a lot of things in the shop, and sometimes I get curious. I've never heard about this sickness though."
Owen wanted to talk her about her. She took another drink to stall on that subject. There wasn't much to say and it was boring. She allowed herself to also be momentarily distracted by their appetizer when it arrived. She delighted over the pretty presentation before picking one of the little toasts topped with tomatoes and basil. The bread was crunchy on the edges, soft in the middle with a bit of saltiness that was offset by the sweetness of balsamic vinegar.
"I think you might know everything about me already," she joked. She washed down the bread with bourbon. "I grew up in Cedgewick and I own a farm. I'm pretty good at growing things and that's about it, really." She nibbled at her bread some more, looking thoughtful. "I have a twin brother and an older brother. They work in my dad's woodshop and my mom is the town librarian. They live down the street from you," she said in such a way that implied they both already knew that. Mostly, thanks to her mother's nosy tendencies.
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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I'm not a witch.
He let it slide. A date wasn't the proper venue to argue about her very nature. He looked at her hand placed so conveniently for him to touch. That's what she wanted. Not a lecture about how she was certainly a witch.
"You are correct about the theory of ley lines." He said this pointedly as if that was the only thing she was correct about. His index finger inched towards hers. Their fingers mingled together on the table. "Anyway, magic theory aside…" He said to keep the conversation moving along.
They were both briefly distracted by the arrival of their appetizer. He let her take from the plate first before he helped himself to one of the crunchy breads. He chewed while she talked about herself. His brows shot up at the announcement that she had a twin. Another witch in her family.
"So your family is cursed too." He laughed and sipped at his drink, "With multiples."
"So why don't you tell me what made you decide to run a farm and the shop. Did you always know you wanted to do that?"
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The conversation continued as if it had not happened, but that wouldn't keep her from wondering back to it periodically. Owen at taken her hint. Not quite holding hands (which to her would have seemed too intimate for a first date), but the thrill of a touch nonetheless. His hands were softer than she expected, but the were so large compared to her own. They looked strong.
"Well, my mother would call it a blessing," she joked, in between bites of the bruschetta. "If she could have had one more of us, she would be absolutely beside herself." She giggled, a cute chirrup of a noise that she wasn't sure she'd ever made before she had met Owen. Julianna briefly wondered what it would have like to have a second sibling. From what she noticed with Owen's triplets it was...chaotic and crowded. Each one of them vying for attention over the other. She didn't mind it, personally. Thought it was rather endearing.
Would her mother have been so suffocating with an additional child?
“It took awhile for me to figure out what I wanted to do," she explained. Owen was gazing at her with such an honest interest that she shied away from it. "I have always loved plants and been very good with them. I wanted to go to college for a botany program, but I would have had to move away. My mother didn't like that and pushed me to go to college here. I was bored, and I couldn't do what I wanted. I ended up dropping out, and my parents helped me buy the land for the farm so I would stay." When she said it out loud, which was not very often, she realized how foolish and accommodating it sounded. Despite being selfless. How much of her life she had put on hold to keep from upsetting her parents?
"It's not what I saw myself doing, but I enjoy it."
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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He shook his head and shrugged. “I suppose, as a parent, I am not unique in that worry.”
Their appetizer was coming to an end and the waiter reappeared to take their orders for dinner and more drinks. Owen ordered a Tom Collins. Now that he was drinking gin, he would continue to drink gin rather than mix his liquors. He ordered a steak for dinner.
“You are a kind of botanist in your current occupation.” Owen offered this bit of encouragement. “It seems you are doing well for yourself. What about your brother? What is he like? Are you two close?”
Owen was wondering, specifically, whether her brother was a witch. Of course he was. But what kind of witch.
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"I think they are great, so you must be doing a good job with them," she complimented with her own bit of encouragement. "They are so smart! and unique in their own ways. Are you homeschooling them while you're in Oregon?"
Owen was kind in his reassurance that she was still pursuing her dream, even if it was different than she had imagined. Her gentle smile turned a bit sad. She didn't agree, but it wasn't something she was interested in contesting him about. She was still grateful that she was able to work with plants nonetheless.
It wasn't the same for Elliot, whose dreams of going to a culinary school had been crushed by their overbearing mother.
Julianna ordered another Old Fashion. She wasn't quite ready to test her luck with a different beverage, since she'd only just discovered something that she liked, and shrimp scampi for her meal.
"Elliot and I are close. He's...my best friend, really." It was more or less by default, but Julianna didn't mention that. They had never had very many friends growing up. She didn't really know how to describe him. "He's kind of like me, I think? Except a bit more...adventurous? Outgoing? He knows everyone, and had traveled around a little bit. He's an amazing cook, but dad convinced him and our older brother Kama to make wood-working a family business. "
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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The waiter delivered their cocktails and reassured them their meal would arrive soon. Owen thanked him and as he watched the waiter retreat from their table he noticed something curious. He cocked his head and leaned over. Sure enough, there were curtains that could be released from a cord on the wall. Gazing around the room, many tables tucked into the walls were hidden by those curtains.
Owen glance at Julianna was conspiratorial as he tried to gauge if she had noticed what he had. He unbound the cords that held the curtain and pulled it across so that they were shrouded in sudden privacy. The space became immediately more intimate. Somewhat quieter, a little darker, and it felt a bit naughty. Owen grinned at her and got up to shift around to her side of the table, sharing the booth with her. He slung his arm over the back of the booth and cozied up next to her. He dragged his new cocktail across the table to him and took a sip, peaking at her from the side of his vision to gauge how she was taking the sudden change of pace.
“So woodworking, huh?” He said jokingly. It sounded like a double entendre. They were so close in the private space. It felt like they should huddle together and tell secrets in the not-so-public public space.
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She had only had one drink though, and maybe that would make her seem like a lightweight.
Which she undoubtedly was, but he was so close and so warm and she caught a whiff of that delightful cologne again.
Obviously, she didn't have any protests, but she was admittedly overwhelmed. In a good way.
She laughed over the rim of her glass, before sipping at her new drink. "Yes, woodworking." She gathered her hair in her hand and pulled it over the shoulder opposite to him, baring a line of skin from her jaw to her cleavage thanks to the deep cut of her dress. The glitter on her skin still shimmered like the dangling earrings she wore. "You know, like cabinets and shelves and like, anything that could be made out of wood. They stay busy," she was talking over her nerves. "People still love handmade things. They fixed the shelves in the shop for me."
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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The spell she cast on him was heady and made him feel weak. They were supposed to be having pleasant first-date conversation but he was thinking in third-date terms.
“So I should be taking your brothers out for a thank-you date, then.” Owen joked with a charming smile.
He touched his glass, turning it a quarter turn and again. “Did you… did you tell them what happened to the shelves?” His question was more sober, back to the topic of magic. Had she told them a boy teleported into her shop and messed up her displays. He was curious to know.
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Her attention was briefly drawn to where he toyed with the glass on the table. She wondered if it was simply out of habit. Then she wondered if it was a normal habit or a witchy habit so to speak. she considered asking, but was unsure of whether it would have been rude to point out.
She felt that she sensed a touch of anxiety to his question. It was already known among the town that Owen and his boys were witches, but it was understandable that he would not want it revealed that they were causing any small amount of chaos. While the town remained quietly tolerant of their presence there, maybe he was worried it would change if the boys seemed out of control.
When she turned her head to look at him in full she was unprepared for how close his face was to hers. She could see tiny flecks of gold in his stormy eyes. His arm was behind her back and his leg was pressed against hers, left bare by the slit of her dress. She felt enveloped in him and he was only sitting next to her. "I only told Elliot," she admitted, and when she spoke she was looking at his mouth. "I fielded off any questions from my dad and Kama. Accidents happen and all that." She continued to speak, but there was a distracted quality to her voice now.
Julianna lifted the arm that would have been trapped between their bodies to touch her index finger to the curve of his jaw just below his ear. They were already touching, so why couldn't she touch more? His skin was smooth with a fresh shave and she trailed her finger down towards his chin. Her grin had gone from devious to wicked, in a good way and she was still mostly looking at his mouth. Her finger stopped beneath his chin and a gentle pressure enticed him to lean into her and she kissed him.
I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.
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He was very aware of the effect he was having on her.
Hadn’t he been from the start? All those furtive glances from across her shop. The way she would quickly look away and blush when he looked back at her. The eager titters of giggling that were so easy to pull out of her.
She began tracing his jaw leaving a trail of electricity behind her touch. Was that their magic mingling? He dropped his hand from the back of the booth to her shoulders and let his fingers play idly at the clump of curls she had brought to her far shoulder. He twisted his fingers around the curls, slowly winding and winding as she explored his face. There was a foxy little look in her eyes as she invited him to get closer. His lips peeled slowly into a crooked smile as he leaned towards her.
He moved slowly, making her wait for the moment of his arrival. He gazed down at her lips parted and waiting for him. His last view of her before they fell closed and he pressed his mouth to hers. His hand stayed in her curls and the other cupped her face. His entire hand seeming to engulf her cheek and jaw.
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