“Gris, you know my opinion on this,” Patrick Noske said in his ‘no-nonsense’ voice.

“Nox, seriously? Now? Do you think now is the best time to bring this up?” Jack Griswold replied, harsher than he had intended.

Nox wasn’t cowed. “No, it’s probably not,” his best friend replied, his deep voice soft yet firm, even over the phone. “But, you’re about to do something stupid. Again. You asked me to prevent you from making this mistake over and over again.”

Gris glared at his best friend over the phone, knowing that his look was wasted, knowing Nox was probably right, but not really in the mood to admit it. Nox was unimpressed, and unmoved. “It’s fine, I’m fine. I mean, it’s just going out after work with a coworker to the farmer’s market and then for drinks. It’s fine.”

“First off,” Gris said softly, “you are skipping out on coven activities, which is going to piss everyone off, but especially Abe, and I know that’ll bother you deeply. You really can’t afford to piss off any more of our coven, not after what we did with Godwin. Second, you know this is a bad idea. Every time you go out with…” he hesitated, and Gris knew that Nox hated even saying his name, “Robbie…he uses you. It’s not healthy, the relationship you have with him.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “We’re just friends. He likes going to the farmer’s market with me, then out for drinks. It’s harmless, nothing more than that. I’m a grown-ass man, man.”

“He’s gonna make you pay for everything, man. Again,” Nox reminded him, sounding defeated.

“I don’t mind, really,” Gris repeated, trying to sound upbeat. “He doesn’t make me pay for everything.”

“He does, and we both know it.” Nox sighed. “You let him get away with it because you’re infatuated. Seriously, he’s straight, Gris. No amount of alcohol is going to change that. He’s using you, and we all know it.”

“He’s not, we’re friends,” Gris insisted. “We? Who’s we?”

“Does it matter?” Nox snapped.

Gris sighed. “Sorry, dude. I mean, I’ll still come, I’m not going to drink, I’ll just be late. I don’t know why we gotta meet up on a farmer’s market night, anyway, you guys all know that’s where I go to find components sometimes.”

“We’re meeting up because we’re coven, and we’re planning our next spell, the one for Molly’s sister’s baby,” Nox explained. “You promised you’d be there.”

“And I will,” he insisted. “Listen, you’re just upset that I’m going with Robbie. So, we’re meeting at Abe’s coffee shop tonight at eight, right? I’m meeting Robbie at five thirty. We’ll spend an hour, tops, at the farmer’s market, then go get a bite to eat, then I’ll be there, no problem. I’ll probably only be like ten minutes late, at the most.”

Nox harrumphed. “I’m not covering for you, Gris. Not this time. I’ll tell them exactly where you are, and who you’re with.”

“Nox!” Gris exclaimed. “I can’t believe you’d throw me under the bus like that!”

“Gris, I need you to get over this thing, whatever it is, with Robbie. He’s using you, and he makes you feel bad, you know what I’m saying is true.”

Gris bit his cheek, biting back his snarky response. It didn’t help. “Whatever, Nox. I don’t need a babysitter. You need anything from the farmer’s market?”

Nox sighed. “Whatever, Gris. Do what you’re gonna do. Text me if you’re running late.”

He hated it when Nox took that tone with him, basically that he’d given up on the conversation. That he was disappointed in him. “Nox…”

“Gris, don’t. You’re gonna do what you’re gonna do. Just…don’t cry to me about it later. I don’t want to know. He’s straight, and no matter how much money and time you spend with him, he’s always gonna be straight. Also…he’s a douchebag-bro. I don’t know how you can stand being with him at all. He’s the biggest douche I know.”

Gris scoffed. “He’s not a douche, I mean, he’s not that bad. He’s not Dan. I’ll see you tonight, Nox.”

“Whatever, Gris,” Nox agreed, defeated. “Blessed be.”

“Blessed be, Nox,” he said, feeling put out as he hung up.

Gris put his phone away, frowning at the discourse with his best friend. “He’s not a douche,” he reiterated to his phone, as if it mattered. He ran his hands over his head, more scratchy than he liked. He’d have to shave it again soon, but for now he’d let it go, mostly because he was feeling lazy.

Picking up his light hoodie, he pulled it on, pulling the hood up over his head to keep his scalp from sun exposure, then jogged out into the balmy June afternoon. Despite the temperature hanging somewhere around a humid eighty seven degrees, he still wore his hoodie, no matter what time of year it was. He had several, and he’d spelled them so that they remained ventilated and at a comfortable temperature no matter what the weather was like.

Hoodies and cargo shorts served him well. He hid spell components in his pockets like he was a squirrel stashing food away for winter. Small silk satchels were filled with a variety of items, small gems, some rolled, some cut, some rough, seeds and spices, dried flowers and herbs, dried clay or dirt from his home, small bones ground to dust. A good witch was always prepared. And, while he was a very good witch, at least he felt so, he wasn’t a very strong witch. So, he relied on components, items used by witches when casting, to augment his power.

He may not have had much magic, not compared to anyone else in his coven, but he was still valuable, mostly because he was the coven’s components guy. Every spell required a variety of components, and the harder or more uncommon spells required rare and unique components. That was what Gris provided to his coven, any and all components they needed.

“If I don’t go to the farmer’s market,” he grumbled, “I won’t find the good stuff. I wonder if that guy, the Fey from before’ll be there. I wish I had more money, he’s got some good stuff.”

He pulled open the door to his car and climbed inside, careful not to let his legs touch his molten pleather seats. He started the car with the door still open, then rolled all the windows down at once while also blasting the AC. Within moments he was driving to pick up Robbie.

Robbie didn’t really live close to him, or the farmer’s market, so it added an extra half an hour each way to his drive. He did the math quickly in his head and figured he’d have exactly one hour at the market and one hour wherever they went to eat after the market if he was going to make it to the coven meeting by eight. He could do it, it’d be fine.

Nox did not appreciate Robbie’s…charms. They worked with him at the gym, he was a personal trainer and an individual fitness coach. He did brag about how fit he was pretty often, and Gris knew how much it bothered Nox, who, despite teaching aerobics and spinning classes and eating healthy for as long as Nox knew him, was still quite overweight.

Some people were just unlucky like that, and maybe Robbie rubbed it in a little, and made fun of Nox. It wasn’t mean spirited, but Gris was always quick to jump to Nox’s defense. Because he was both large and black, and was thoughtful before he spoke, many people assumed he was lazy. Normally it didn’t bother Nox, but he took it very personally when it came from Robbie.

Still, Robbie wasn’t that bad. He was fun and funny, and…well, he was hot. He was Gris’s type, though he was probably a bit too muscled, if he had to find physical fault. He had neatly trimmed black hair that he brushed to the side in a trendy cut, a strong chin, big brown eyes and a perfect mouth.

He sent Robbie a text at a red light about five minutes from his house, and then waited another five minutes for him to leave his house after he arrived. It was fine, he’d be fine, he wouldn’t be late.

“Hey,” Robbie said, climbing into his car. “I hope you don’t mind, my friend Dan wanted to tag along, we were playing Xbox and lost track of time.”

Gris tried to hide his frown as Robbie’s asshole friend Dan climbed into his back seat. “Hey, Grass,” he called, intentionally mispronouncing his nickname.

He knew better than to correct Dan, it just wasn’t worth it. “Hey,” he said, unable to hide his disappointment. He liked going to the farmer’s market with Robbie, but when Dan was around, Robbie was more likely to ignore him. More likely to be…

“Hey, no need to be down. It’ll be fun, right?” Robbie insisted. “Like, the more the merrier, right?”

“Yeah, right, sure,” he agreed reluctantly.

“Hey, can we have the air on? It’s hot as balls out here, and I don’t wanna mess up my hair,” Robbie said, running his fingers through his perfect hair.

“Yeah, okay,” he said as Robbie and Dan rolled up all the other windows. He rolled his up, too, wishing he could keep them down, already missing the feeling of the wind and the connection to the earth it gave him. “Hey, I need to be done by like, seven thirty at the latest, I got someplace I have to be tonight, okay?” he said, feeling more and more nervous about his ability to make it to the coven meeting on time.

“Sure, sure, yeah. You got a hot date or something?” Robbie asked, already messing with the radio. He unplugged Gris’s phone and plugged his in without asking, then began to mess with it. A second later Rockstar by Nickelback began to play, and he turned the volume up loud as Gris pulled out onto the street.

Gris sighed. “Can you turn that down a little?” he asked with a frown. Goddess, he hated Nickelback, but Robbie and Dan loved them, and sang along every time they rode with him. He was pretty sure they did it just to annoy him now.

“Who’s your date?” Dan ask-yelled from the back seat.

Gris turned down the volume to a respectable level, then flicked his eyes over Dan in the rearview mirror. “No date, meeting up with Nox. We have some stuff we gotta do, for, ah, his family.” That was a lame excuse, but he would die before telling Robbie he was a witch. He shoulda had something better planned out to say ahead of time, and he kicked himself for not having thought of that sooner.

Goddess, he hated it when Dan tagged along.

“I didn’t know Nox was gay,” Dan said, then laughed. “You like that big black-”

“Shut up,” Gris said. “Shut up, don’t say that about Nox. Just shut up.” He knew it sounded weak, but he was driving and he always felt at a loss around Dan. He didn’t want to offend Robbie, but how was he friends with this asshole?

“I mean, you said you were going on a date with him.”

“Are you an idiot?” Gris snapped. “I said I had to meet up with him. Just cause I’m gay doesn’t mean every man I hang out with is dating me. Do you date every girl you hang out with?”

“Wow, homo, did you just call me an idiot?” Dan asked, getting all ‘brah’ on him already and they hadn’t even been in the car for ten minutes.

“Shut up, brah, you sound like an idiot,” Robbie said, defending him, and he couldn’t help the happy flutter in his stomach. Why’d he always have to find straight guys attractive? “You can’t call him homo like that, it’s rude.”

Dan snorted, and Gris considered turning up Nickelback, they were now into the next song, possibly the world’s most annoying song in the entire catalog of horrible songs, begging for a second chance. That was where he was at, already, debating whether or not listening to Dan and Robbie sing Nickelback was better than attempting to have any type of rational conversation with Dan.

“Fine. And, no, brah, I don’t date every girl I’m around, but I’d fuck ‘em if they let me, and there are some I’d fuck even if they wouldn’t!” Dan said, laughing again. Robbie turned around and they did a brah high five and Gris wondered if he’d be able to push Dan from the car at the next red light.

“That’s disgusting and demoralizing,” Gris said, knowing he’d regret it, but unable to stop himself from pointing out Dan’s faults. “That’s all women are to you? Something to fuck? Those are people’s mothers, sisters, daughters. They’re people, with lives richer and fuller than yours.”

“Shit, brah,” Dan said, leaning forward between the front seats. “Man, I see why Robbie hangs out with you. You’re a riot! Women have richer, fuller lives,” Dan scoffed, and Gris wanted to slam his breaks to see if he could launch Dan through his windshield and do the world a favor. “That’s rich.”

“Nah, brah, see, that’s why girls love gay guys, right there,” Robbie added, and Gris wished he wouldn’t try to help. “They’re sensitive, like ladies, so they all get along with their softer, feminine sides. I mean, no offense, Gris, but you’re gay, so you know what I mean, right? You must have a ton of lady-friends.”

Gris rolled his eyes, keeping his face trained forward on the road. “Sure, yeah,” he agreed passively, hoping the conversation would move on without him.

“You sure you’re not boning Nox?” Dan needled.

“He’s married, brah,” Gris snapped. “To a woman. Very happily married. I’m not allowed to be friends with men, since I’m gay?”

“Sure you are, but I mean, don’t you wanna do Rob-” Dan cut off as Robbie play-slapped in across the face. He threw himself into the back seat to get away from Robbie’s flailing hand. Robbie’s shoulder hit his own and he grimaced as he flexed his arm to keep his car from veering into another lane.

“Shut up, brah,” Robbie laughed. “Gris’s fine. He’s good people. Oh, shit, I love this song,” he said, turning up the music as yet another terrible, unlistenable song began. Robbie and Dan both sang along, yell-singing over the blaring music, and he didn’t bother to turn the music down again, but instead narrowed his focus down on the road and on collecting his magic.

Stronger witches didn’t have to collect their magic, but he did, at least when he wanted to have enough to do anything useful with on his own. If he was channelling magic with the coven, he’d set the circles, or at least be active in setting the circles, then they all shared magic once the circles were closed. That was the most powerful way to cast, and allowed them to do complicated and influential spells.

Everyone in their coven cast individually, as well, and the strength of their power determined what they could do on their own. Gris didn’t often cast solo, but he did often cast with Nox. Nox, in his opinion, one of the strongest witches, if not the strongest, in the coven, though he’d deny it. Gris loved casting with him, just the two of them. Nox understood him, they’d been friends since fourth grade, and casting with him felt natural, easy.

Usually he liked to close his eyes and picture his magic collecting inside of him like dew on leaves, but he kept his eyes on the road, instead focusing on the feeling of collecting his magic inside. By the time they arrived at the farmer’s market and he began the hunt for a parking spot, he’d collected a fair amount of magic, a small ball of it filling his chest, centering him, calming him.

With luck he must have borrowed, he found a close spot at a meter that still had time on it, and said a silent prayer of thanks to the Goddess, then shut off his car, relieved to have survived twenty six minutes and a two-man Nickelback karaoke crew. He was not letting them control the radio on the way to the restaurant.

“Aw, man, I love that song, turn it back on!” Dan whined from the back seat.

Gris ignored him and got out of the car, grabbing his reusable shopping bag from under Robbie’s seat. His elbow accidentally grazed Robbie’s calf and it sent a spark of excitement up his spine, and he made it a point to escape as soon as possible. The sun beat down, and also reflected off the pavement, causing him to flip his hood back up. Robbie and Dan followed him, but he ignored them, trying to find his chill and not let his annoyance from the drive ruin his trip to the farmer’s market. They walked the half block in silence, with him slightly ahead.

The farmer’s market took place in a parking lot of a grocery store and the two side streets surrounding it every Monday evening during the summer. Occasional parking lot breaks filled with small street trees and bushes broke up rows of tents of vendors, selling everything from produce to homemade soap and everything in between. Usually he loved it, full of people and life and stuff, but today he was in a sour mood, after his call with Nox and Dan having ruined the trip so far.

He turned and looked back, but Robbie and Dan nowhere to be seen, either intentionally, or just separated by the vast amount of people milling about. Was it bad that he was actually relieved? Robbie ditching him made him feel a little put out, but he wasn’t sad to be missing Dan’s company.

Gris looked around, taking in the tents around him. Mostly people set up in the same place every week, but every now and again, like when the new Fey guy set up shop, or the lady with the homemade kites who was here one time a few weeks back, a new booth could pop up unexpectedly. He wandered, not getting close enough to any booth in particular so that he was called out by the keeper, but browsing for interesting finds.

He approached a tent with homemade soaps, admiring the herbal assortment available, and the fantastic swirls of bright colors on each bar. The woman also sold other personal care products, natural deodorants, lip balms and bath soaks. Another tent was packed full of jams and jellies, and another full of cheeses, eggs and dried sausages.

He loved crowds, being around people, just watching the ebb and flow of the population around one another. He loved watching the small interactions between strangers, and the occasional random acts of kindness. There was something about the joy of a child when they got to pick out a treat, or the happiness of a married couple walking hand in hand through the mass of people that just made him feel happy to be a part of it all.

Eventually he made his way to the new Fey merchant Lysstor’s tent. Like the last few times he’d been here, it was filled with fresh and dried botanicals of excellent quality, and he couldn’t stop himself from drooling over them. Lysstor’s items were expensive, even for a farmer’s market, but Gris could see the quality in them. He could blow his whole paycheck here and still not buy everything he wanted. Not only that, but Lysstor also had some rare components, and from what Gris had seen behind his table before, he knew he had some really, really rare components.

The first time he’d found the Fey merchant’s stall was a few weeks ago, and it had been even hotter than today, the third day of a mini-heatwave. It didn’t help matters any that the parking lot was hot and mostly unshaded, and had the whole day to soak in the heat of the sun’s rays. With his mouth to the floor over the quality and variety of the components available, he’d stood there in front of the booth for ten minutes, cataloguing what he had, and what he had enough money to buy.

The first time Lysstor had smiled at him his heart stopped for a minute. He really had to stop this attraction he had to beautiful straight men, because Lysstor’s smile felt like a cupid’s arrow to his heart. They chatted about components, and Lysstor seemed really surprised at Gris’s knowledge.

Today Lysstor was sitting down closer to the back of his tent, combing fleece or something like it, he couldn’t tell from this distance. He had one of those chairs that fold up into a tube, and he looked up as Gris approached, smiling.

“Hey, Griswold, right?” Lysstor said, and his heart did a little pitterpat flip that he remembered his name.

“Hey, yeah, Jack Griswold, but friends call me Gris,” he agreed, trying not to blush. “Hi, Lysstor, nice day out.” He stepped closer, into the shade of Lysstor’s tent, and the smell of fresh flowers, larkspur and lavender and cherry blossoms, they comforted him. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, but the hot tar of the pavement blocked him from smelling anything else and he frowned.

“I hate the pavement, I wanted them to put me next to the trees, at least, but I signed up too late and those spots are the first to get nabbed,” Lysstor explained, as if he knew what Gris was thinking.

“Oh, yeah,” Gris said, unable to make intelligent sentences. He glanced over at Lysstor, but he was still watching his hands, raking some type of comb over silky fibers in his hands. The white fibers seemed to have a bluish sheen as he combed them. “What’s that?”

Lysstor looked up at him, his blond hair combed smartly, shaved closer on the sides. His face was narrow and sharp, but still beautiful, and even if Gris hadn’t helped him the time when his glamorie slipped through, he still would have known he was somehow Fey, just from his beauty.

“Hmm? Oh, this? It’s pleurisy seed thread,” he said, returning his attention to his work.

“Pleurisy? Milkweed,” Gris said, nodding. “Asclepias.”

“Good. So, what do we use it for?” Lysstor asked, sounding like a teacher.

Gris bit his lip, enjoying this game they played when he came. “Milkweed, mostly the root is used, good for cough when powdered and mixed with other herbs, can be used for asthma. The milk is anti-inflammatory. The silk…ah…I dunno. I’ve never heard of the silk being used for anything…” he trailed off, disappointed in himself.

Lysstor looked up at him, still smiling, and he let it go. “Mostly a pest deterrent. Spiders and flies don’t like the smell it has once it’s dry. It also bears a female element, and can be used in fertility spells, though it’s not very strong. There were a bunch of unopened pods from last fall I ran into and decided to harvest a few.”

Gris listened closely, he wouldn’t forget. “Cool,” he said, nodding his head as he committed the new fact to memory.

Lysstor put his silk aside, standing up and stretching. He was taller than Gris, a lot taller, and Gris kinda felt like a midget next to him. He hadn’t realized how tall Lysstor was, but he was at nearly a foot taller, at least. He almost asked how tall Lysstor was, then caught himself before he could say something stupid. Lysstor stretched long and Gris watched the form of his body, the way his muscles moved under his plain blue t-shirt.

“So, what’re you looking for this week?” Lysstor asked, breaking him out of his reverie. He studied the ground, blushing, worried he’d been caught staring, but it didn’t seem like it. “Anything in particular?”

“Larkspur, smells like you have some fresh larkspur?” Gris asked, his mind grabbing on the first thing it could. Larkspur would work, it was Molly from his coven’s element.

Lysstor chuckled. “Yeah, I have some, I just gathered it this morning. It smells wonderful, doesn’t it?”

Gris nodded, then let Lysstor lead him to the fresh flowers. The larkspur was fantastic, large spears of purple and lavender flowers, some longer than his arm. “This is real nice, I’ve never seen it so big, or so brightly colored!”

“Properties of larkspur?” Lysstor asked him, picking out a spear and handing it to him.

He took it, turning it over between his fingers. “Not a lot. Good for colic, can make a nice tea for sore throat with other components, but we mostly use it for ink when we need to write something for a spell. Occasionally I’ll use Larkspur seeds when we’re casting for setting North, but only when Molly is leading the spell, and when I have some.”

Lysstor was nodding. “You can also use it as a purgative, if you concentrate it, but it’s not as effective as other stuff. That stalk will cost you five, by the way. What do you usually use to set north, if it’s not larkspur seed?”

Gris handed back the spear. “Do you have a less expensive one?” he asked, embarrassed that he was light on funds, but he still had four other components he needed to pick up for the spell they were working this weekend.

“Sure, what’s your budget?” Lysstor asked him, taking the spear back and pulling out a smaller one, this one lighter in color, pale lavender so light it was almost white, nearly a foot long. Even though it was smaller, it was still huge.

“How much is that one?” he asked instead of answering.

Lysstor frowned. “Two dollars.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s good. I also need white horehound, I thought I saw some last week? That, and bindweed flowers, if you have some dried, or bindweed root, powdered,” he recited, thinking through the spell.

Lysstor moved around, searching for the items. “I do have white horehound…ah, here it is,” he said, pulling a small glass vial out of a box under the counter. “Other witches shop here, but none are as picky as you are.”

Lysstor sounded pleased, or at least amused, and Gris blushed. “I mean, quality matters, in casting, you know? Bad materials, bad magic, as my mother used to say.”

Lysstor nodded, searching through some other vials, more than likely for bindweed. “What do you normally use to set north?” he asked again.

“Bird seed from the grocery store,” he said, blushing. It hit him, right then, that he probably should be using something better, something more meaningful. He hadn’t really thought about it, it was what Annabel always had around for him to use, and also the other materials he used to set corners were reusable, all but the seed for the mother.

“Oh, Gris, what a shame that is,” Lysstor said, and the disappointment had his heart crashing to the floor.

“I mean, I know, but, components are pricey, and I can’t reuse the mother’s offering like the other corners. I pay for almost all of our coven’s components, and I don’t make that much money…”

“Your coven doesn’t split the costs?”

He laughed. “Lysstor, I’m the weakest in my coven. I think the only reason they let me hang around is that I set a good circle and I’ve got them always covered with anything they need. It’s how I’m useful.”

Lysstor frowned. “That’s bullshit.”

“Hey, Gris, there you are!” Robbie’s voice behind him made him cringe, and guilt filled his stomach as if he’d been doing something wrong. Robbie walked up behind him and rubbed his head too hard over his hoodie, almost noogie-style. He tried to duck away but there wasn’t any room in the tent for him to escape.

“Where’d you go?” Dan asked, stepping out of the sun, too.

Gris was afraid to look up at Lysstor, but he did anyway. Lysstor wore a disapproving frown on his face, and his stomach sank further. He batted away Robbie’s hand on his head, embarrassed for the first time at how he let Robbie treat him.

“Here,” Gris replied shortly.

“Okay, I wanted to get this one thing, can you come check it out? I forgot to bring cash,” Robbie said, leaning closer to him, brushing his shoulder up against his.

“Yeah, sure, just a minute, I’m not done here,” Gris agreed, wishing they’d just leave so he could finish here. “I’ll meet you, what’d you want?”

“Nah, it’s too crowded today, I’ll just wait for you,” Robbie said. “You have stuff later, right? Don’t wanna be late if you can’t find me again.”

Gris sighed. “Fine, just a second,” he said, turning his attention back to Lysstor.

“You need anything else?” Lysstor asked, his tone neutral.

“Ah…do you…no, nevermind. Just those three. How much?” he asked, terrified of the cost since he hadn’t actually found out what the other components he’d asked for cost.

“Wait, you’re buying flowers? How gay are you, brah?” Dan scoffed.

Gris’s face was on fire. “I, ah…”

“Shut up, brah, don’t be rude!” Robbie defended, but they both laughed, making him even more uncomfortable.

“Thirteen for all three,” Lysstor said crisply, watching Dan carefully from the corner of his eye.

“Ah, yeah, sure,” he said, pulling out his wallet. Lysstor wrapped the flowers in paper, then put all three items in his reusable bag, but he didn’t remember handing it to him. He didn’t have thirteen, but he had fifteen, so he handed it over. Lysstor made his change and Gris was so embarrassed he could die.

“Thanks,” Lysstor said, then turned and sat himself back down in his chair, picking up his earlier work. “Have a nice day.”

Lysstor ignored him, the intimate moment they shared passed as if it had never happened. He pushed down his disappointment and turned to leave, Robbie and Dan rushing back out into the heat pouring more off the pavement than coming from the sun.

He bought Robbie spicy jam and a bag of super expensive jerky, then realized he didn’t have enough money for dinner if he was paying for all three of them. Who charged thirty dollars for a pound and a half of jerky, anyway? Even if it was buffalo meat.

“Ah, I don’t…I’m kinda shy on cash until I get paid again, sorry…” he said as they were walking back to his car. His stomach sank and he realized he’d be passing Lysstor’s tent again, even as his heart race jogged. Robbie tried to rub his head again, and he dodged it, and realized when Robbie still made contact with him that his touch didn’t send his heart pacing anymore.

He didn’t have time to think about it as they passed Lysstor’s tent. He looked in and immediately regretted it, his eyes meeting Lysstors as Robbie pulled him into some type of a half nelson or some other wrestling move he didn’t like. Lysstor frowned again, and his heart sank to his feet, knowing he had somehow disappointed the Fey merchant.

“Use your credit card, brah,” Dan said. “The only thing you’re good for is-”
“It’s all good, brah,” Robbie cut Dan off. “Let’s go, you can take me home and we’ll get a raincheck. You had stuff anyway.”

Gris nodded, feeling Lysstor’s eyes on him as they passed by the tent, pushing Robbie off of him. “Yeah, sorry…”

He didn’t look back, but he could feel Lysstor’s eyes on his back. Whether he was actually watching or not, he didn’t know, but every time he recalled Lysstor’s disapproving stare his heart hurt.

Who was he kidding? It didn’t matter what Lysstor thought of him, the most he’d ever be ti Lysstor was a customer, that disapproving stare proved that much. The karaoke party in his car moved from Nickelback to Seether to Kid Rock, all horrible songs, serving to increase his horrible mood. He tortured himself, replaying Lysstor’s reaction when Dan and Robbie showed up, and then when he passed again, letting himself sink into depression.

“Ah, thanks,” Robbie said. Dan had already climbed out of the car. He hadn’t realized he was here already, his body moving on autopilot. “No biggie you ran out of cash, don’t beat yourself up.”

“Huh?” he asked, missing something.

“You were real quiet the whole drive back. Don’t beat yourself up about eating out. You can get me next time.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure,” he agreed passively. “See you later.”

He realized that Robbie thought he felt bad about dinner as he pulled away from the curb. He snorted, then called Nox, heading in the direction to pick him up. He’d have plenty of time to get to the coven meeting. His phone was ringing when he realized he didn’t want to talk to his best friend, that Nox’s prediction was right, but for the wrong reasons, but it was too late.

“Do I get an ‘I told you so’?” Nox asked as way of greeting.

Gris sighed. “You want me to come pick you up?”

“No drinks with Robbie?” Nox asked, and Gris could tell he was trying hard not to sound snide.

“No, ran out of money. He brought Dan with him, blew my whole budget for today.” Nox sighed heavily. “No, no, don’t. I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll come get you, we can carpool, okay?”

“Sure,” Nox agreed. “How long?”

“Twenty minutes. I got stuff for the spell this weekend.”

“Nice. I’ll see you then.”

There was something in the pocket of his hoodie, his seatbelt pressing into him uncomfortably. He pulled out a small glass jar. When had he gotten this?

He held it until he got to a red light, then inspected it closely. It was filled with seeds, small, round, tannish seeds. A label on the glass jar in cursive so fancy it looked like calligraphy read ‘Millet’. There was no way he could know, but it was Lysstor’s hand, he could feel it. He squeezed it tightly in his hand, thinking on the conversation about calling North, and knew he’d use it instead of birdseed on Saturday.

Spellbound Chapter 2: Lessons in Wild Magic Part 1