Just Like Magic by Sarah Hogle

Author:Sarah Hogle [Hogle, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2022-10-04T00:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Twelve

Countdown to Christmas:

5 Days

HALL’S ARMS ARE around me, just as they were in the snowy parking lot seconds ago, but fiery reds and yellows now burn across the right half of his face, all the colors of daybreak tracing lips that are unsmiling for once, catching every red ribbon in his rich brown hair. The colors enunciate shadows where they flatter most, carving out sinfully attractive cheekbones, jawline like a blade. I watch his pupils flare even though the abrupt change of light should make them constrict. His Adam’s apple works down a swallow, faint red blotches appearing on his throat. “Here we are,” he says, pitch low.

“How does that work? I feel so well rested. Not at all like I stayed up all night.”

“You didn’t. I moved us through time. Gave all your systems a touch-up so that you won’t feel the drag.” He pauses, and suddenly I am hyperaware of each light press of his fingertips resting on my waist. He doesn’t seem in a hurry to let go; after a moment of consideration I summon the bravery to slowly wrap my hands around his tan, freckle-splashed forearms. He feels so substantial beneath me. Strong and sure.

With literal light shining on our proximity, all of our easy playfulness from before dissolves. I’m wondering what’s going on, question marks shooting off left and right in my brain like fireworks, but why should an embrace have to mean anything? Hall might not view this closeness as an intimacy cue like a human would. Also, he hasn’t verbally indicated that his status as someone who’s never crushed on anyone has changed, and I don’t want to be presumptuous. He likes physical touch, period. He likes being close to all sorts of people, not just me. It’s better to not ask if there’s anything going on at all, to simply enjoy what I can.

“That’s thoughtful of you,” I manage as his gaze flicks upward to my forehead. He tucks an errant strand of black hair back into its pin. It’s the perfect excuse to break away, but his hands return to me immediately, dropping a fraction lower on my hips. His thumb brushes the narrow gap between my shirt and waistband, the skin-on-skin contact sending up a shiver. His thumb quickly corrects to a higher location, ever the gentleman.

Standing this close, I am trying to breathe normally, trying to ignore how my heart rate has kicked up, how his touch has left behind a deliciously burning trail, and it’s ridiculous. I don’t usually react this way even when I’m making out with a boyfriend half-naked in his bedroom. And Hall and I aren’t even being physical! All he’s doing is barely touching me, watching me like . . . perhaps my pupils are dilating, too, like he hardly registers the play of light on my own face because he’s becoming illuminated to other parts of me instead.

His eyes are liquid, attention dipping to my mouth. My heart accelerates. But then he

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