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Amity’s palms are clammy. Every breath doesn’t feel like enough air. Her heartbeat rings loudly in her ears, her chest seizes a little tighter with every step, and adrenaline races through her so quickly she can almost sense it rushing in her veins.
Up ahead, the Owl House comes into view as she turns around the line of trees, innocuous and not threatening in the slightest. She has no reason to be scared—she knows that—not when it’s practically become her second home now. After all, she spends more time here than she used to at school or the library; she won’t ever tell anyone, but she might even be able to call it her first home, considering this odd house on the cliffside has been much more welcoming to her than the manor ever could be.
And yet, if it’s possible, her heart pounds even faster.
She’s still a few steps away from the door when Hooty opens his eyes, beak opening wide as he shoots forward to meet her. “Hiya, Amity! How’s it going? Been a while since I saw you, oh wait, was it—hoot—yesterday?” He blinks at her on the last word, voice lilting even higher in the most annoying way. Amity suspects he had been trying to wink—and failed. Miserably.
“Yeah, whatever, Hooty. Let me in,” she says, crossing her arms defensively. “I’m here to get Luz.”
“Right, right! For your date—” he chirps, before cutting off with a squawk as the door swings open, slamming the house demon’s face into the wall.
“Quiet, Hooty,” Eda orders, eyes shifting over to Amity. “Ah, you’re here.”
She has to swallow before speaking, her throat drying up. “Hi, Ms. Owl Lady.”
Eda gives her a once-over, letting out a sound somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re scared of me now. Just because you’re picking up my kid?”
Amity recalls the book the twins had shoved in her face after she went back to the manor last night; What to do on the first date. Not that this is a date, but she hadn’t been able to sleep too much last night, consumed with nerves, so she’d just skimmed through it. Only a glance.
Making a good first impression with the parents had been in one of the chapters—or something like that, it wasn’t like she paid attention. But Eda’s practically a full-fledged parent to Luz anyway, and she’s more than Amity’s own ever are to her, at least.
“Um, not at all,” she chooses to say instead. “Is she good to go?”
“King, go get her, will you?” the witch says, without looking away from Amity. “I’m just gonna have a few words with Luz’s girlfriend first.”
“I’m not—” Her voice catches in her throat as she tries to speak—on the word Luz or girlfriend, she can’t tell. Desperate now, she looks over to the staircase for help but Luz isn’t there, King still hopping up the steps to her room. “I’m not her, uh, girlfriend.” Her voice tapers into a squeak at the end of her sentence. Not much of an improvement.
The corner of Eda’s mouth turns up in a smirk. “Right. Come inside, kid.”
The Owl Lady moves to the side to let her in and Amity walks into the house with tentative steps and what’s happened to her? She’s used to this place, the surroundings, these people. She’s even used to—or at least, hopefully she is—the feelings that erupt somewhere around her ribcage, flailing wildly every time she’s around Luz. So why is she panicking like this?
“Are you nervous?”
Amity looks up at the older witch, who seems to be studying her with a raised eyebrow. She ducks her head to avoid the scrutiny as she admits, “Yeah.”
“Ha! Don’t be. I still remember my first date—now that was interesting. But it all went okay, so you’ll be okay too.” Eda leans closer, conspiratorial. “And between you and me, I didn’t nearly like him as much as Luz likes you. You guys’ll be fine!”
As much as Luz likes you. She wants to ask—badly—but instead, what comes out is: “This isn’t a date.”
“Right, right,” Eda says again, but her wink doesn’t do much in convincing Amity she believes her. “Well, just know that you’re always welcome here, Amity. I think you two are good for each other.”
“Um—” She’s panicking so hard. How had it never occurred to her that this was a possible interaction when she’d left the manor earlier? She hopes this counts as a positive first impression, at least. Or that she’d made a good one whenever they first met and it was enough for now.
“Although,” Eda muses aloud, “If you do hurt her or, you know, mess up, I might just have to set Hooty on you.”
“Please. Like he could ever beat Amity.” Her head jerks up automatically as she registers that’s Luz’s voice, finding her instinctively at the top of the stairs though her vision blurs for a moment—only because of the sudden movement, and not at all about the girl she’s staring at right now. It’s completely unrelated to Luz, even as the rest of the world fades away briefly; Eda, King, the house, all of it, leaving this extraordinary human girl as the only thing she can see.
She watches as Luz’s mouth moves—”What are you guys talking about?”—the words piecing themselves together distantly through the fuzziness of her ears. Eda responds with something about a discussion of proper etiquette, clapping a good-natured hand to her back, but it all feels far, far away.
Or at least, it does until Luz’s gaze shifts to her. And as she sees the sunny grin spread across Luz’s face, the world rushes back to life around her. “Amity!”
She smiles back, still a bit dizzy, and Eda barks out another snort-laugh-chuckle.
“Ah, young love,” she says dramatically, before her lips fall into a mock-frown. “Makes me sick. Time for you two to go now, I think!”
Eda starts to shoo her back towards the direction of the door as Luz runs down the stairs, scooping up the Owl Staff from the couch before joining Amity. “Hi.”
Amity doesn’t think she’s stopped smiling. She doesn’t think she can stop, not when Luz is beaming at her so cheerfully. “Hi,” she says back.
“Okay, lovebirds. Say goodbye to King, you don’t want to be late for your book club meeting thing.” Eda picks him up, holding him out to Luz as she pecks King’s forehead with a quick kiss. Amity half-wonders what it’d be like for Luz to do the same to her, before she shoves the thought out of her head swiftly. This isn’t a date—it’s a trip for the Azura Bookclub between friends—no matter what the others say.
Once Luz pulls back, Eda flashes them a sparkling smile. “See you later!” The door closes in their faces.
Luz turns to her, unfazed as she waves Eda’s staff eagerly. “I got her to let me borrow it for today!” she says, excited, “So we can get there faster!”
“Oh, thanks,” she says, stumbling through her surprise. It’s not as if Amity had been thinking about what the walk to the library would be like. When it would just be them. Alone. She will admit this is an easier method of transportation though, of course Luz was smart enough to be prepared.
“What, you don’t want Owlbert as a chaperone?” she teases and Amity’s immediately stammering out some kind of response—can Luz read her that well?—when the other girl reaches out to squeeze her shoulder, offering her a smile as she takes a few steps ahead. “I’m kidding! He isn’t awake, and I’ve gotten better at handling the staff on my own, promise.”
She points the staff forward, towards the town down the cliff, and the wings of the owl unfold, flapping to keep the staff aloft as it rises in the air, now horizontal. Luz climbs on first before glancing back at her expectantly.
Oh, no. No way.
“Um. I’m not—How—Are we—Are you—?” She can’t even figure out what question she’s asking. But she’s definitely panicking, again. Great. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, c’mon Amity! We might actually be late if we keep staying here, you know,” she says, tilting her head behind her. “If you’re scared or anything, just hold onto me!”
Luz can’t be this oblivious. Is it even possible? What is Amity even supposed to do? On one hand, she’ll be sitting with Luz but on the other, she’ll be sitting with Luz while the other girl has no idea about the emotions clenching tight in the back of her throat. Or the words on the tip of her tongue, if only she were brave enough to say them.
“Amity?”
She makes a decision. Cheeks burning, Amity gets on the staff too, crossing her ankles on the side as she nods at Luz. She’s too afraid to speak.
“Wait, one last thing—whoop!” Luz stretches back towards her and Amity nearly jumps right off the staff as she grabs her hands. Every point of contact—Luz’s fingers, her wrists—feels electrified, her skin sparking wherever they’re touching. She can’t help but ask herself whether it feels like that for Luz too. “You can sit closer, you know,” she says, wrapping Amity’s hands around her waist. “Can’t have you falling off on the way.”
Her breath catches in her lungs.
This isn’t fair. Ed and Em have to be around somewhere, just waiting for them to arrive at the library after manipulating this whole thing. Because this has to be another of their pranks—and they’re using Luz to do it too, whether the human’s aware of it or not. There’s simply no reason for Luz to be acting like this otherwise, Amity knows that.
And still, she shuffles closer to her anyway, unable to resist. She’d read a legend about the Boiling Sea once, about a time before the Isles had ever existed; she’d read it to a group of kids she and Luz were going to see right now. Supposedly, a drop of the sun—perfect, pure flame—had fallen from the sky into the water, sinking all the way down to the depths. And it had stayed, the perpetual, everlasting heat causing the sea to churn and boil forever, the scrap of daylight still burning today.
Amity doubts the truth of the myth, but she also thinks that if a piece of the sun ever had been separated, it may have been entrusted to Luz instead. Luz, good and kind and warm and vibrant and just as magnetic as sunshine. Luz, who somehow broke through any of Amity’s defenses and left her helpless to all of her smiles and cheer and unguarded affection. Luz, a human she’s just met, and still one of the best people she knows.
Luz, who, in reality, has no fragment of sun added to her at all, because she’s bright enough on her own—her own sun, her own beacon, lighting her up from the inside out. And Amity’s powerless, a moth to flame.
She closes her eyes against the wind—it picks up as Luz steers them towards the glinting white roof of the library—and against her own thoughts too. Because sometimes the sun hurts when you stare at it too long, and sometimes Amity aches a little when she stares at Luz for that one extra second—hoping against hope that maybe the sun might stare back, even as she knows she’s probably only a flicker in Luz’s mind.
“Oh, you’re not cold, are you?” Luz calls back suddenly, half-turning to check as she draws Amity out of her thread of consciousness.
She shakes her head instead of replying aloud, she’s close enough to Luz for the other girl to feel the movement—it’s probably because of their proximity she doesn’t feel the draft. The air is still a bit shallow in her chest but she feels a smile grow across her face, despite her thoughts. She doesn’t need to hide it, seeing as nobody can see her, not even Luz.
Maybe this doesn’t mean anything to her. Amity’s small crush won’t change that, and when the time comes, someday she’ll get over it. For now, if this is the most she’ll ever get, she’s happy with that.
This isn’t a date.
So why does it feel so much like one? Not that Amity’s really been on a date before, but isn’t this what they’re like? The fluttery sensation pressing against her ribs, the pricks and needles dancing across her fingertips, the jittery energy spreading through her limbs?
All they’re doing is reading out the fifth Good Witch Azura book in front of her Kid’s Corner group—they’re not even alone—and it still reminds her of a date. It shouldn’t, but as Luz delivers her lines, all swooping intonation and dramatic gestures; as Amity’s kids laugh and gasp and cheer along with the story; as Amity manages to sneak a shared grin with Luz, it does.
And she can’t help but play along. It’s not like she can do anything else; Luz’s enthusiasm is infectious and the children eat it up. She’s always loved her time volunteering here—the kids are never judgemental, and so she’s never had to pretend to be anyone else, unlike at the manor—despite her false excuses for extra credit when someone asks. And with Luz, it’s even better.
Like everything isn’t better with Luz.
“Azura!” Luz declares, following with a lower, “Hecate began,” in a different voice for narration, “Our paths have crossed only in battle, but today, I stand before you looking for an ally!”
Amity watches as Luz’s finger, pointed towards her, extends into an outstretched hand, palm open to her. She still can’t fully believe the ingenious girl has the entire novel memorized, reciting it easily without even needing a peek at the actual book itself in Amity’s hands. The four kids sitting on the carpet all inhale in unison at Luz’s—or well, Hecate’s words—and Luz’s lips twitch upwards as she wiggles her fingers in Amity’s direction.
She’s tempted—too tempted—to take her hand, but it doesn’t match her lines.
“Suddenly, the door swung open!” she announces, and the kids gasp again. “Azura looked over at the unlocked entrance and found one shadow, then two, then three, multiplying before her very eyes.” She pauses to switch her voices—because she, too, needs to have different voices—before continuing, “An ally for what, Hecate? The hobgoblins lie in your wait, for you have led me into a trap!”
“I did not lay this one! I had no knowledge of who the thieves were, only that both our staves had gone missing!” Luz shifts closer, voice softening as she clasps a hand to her chest. “Azura, please. I swear this is not my doing. Our past has been fraught with conflict, but I have wished it to end for a while now. Do you not feel the same?”
Luz is too good of an actor. Amity can almost imagine that it really is her asking, with the tremble in her fingers, the waver in her tone—rather than just following the dialogue of the book. But Luz’s eyes—always genuine, always warm—never lie. And they glow with a smile she’s hiding from her lips, a smile that tells Amity it’s all fiction.
Still, “I do.” Amity doesn’t catch the words in time as they tumble from her throat, and the two syllables fade into the whisper of silence.
She clears her throat, looking down at the book in her hands even though she doesn’t need it for this specific scene—it’s one of her favourites, as the two rivals pair up to defeat the goblins and retrieve their stolen property. It’s her favourite because of the shift in their relationship, a sign and a start as Azura and Hecate fall in love.
Not that it reminds her of anything. Or anyone.
“Perhaps our feud has stretched too long,” she says, following the script once again. Azura’s line is interjected with narration—”Azura admitted, though reluctantly.”—before she keeps going, “But how do I know what you say is not yet another scheme against me?”
“Come with me, after this.”
“After what?” she answers, lifting her chin as she stares back at Luz.
“This. Them. Hecate pointed at the goblins, slowly readying their spears as they crept forward. I will fight by your side, Azura, and after this, come with me and witness for yourself the amends I have tried to make.”
“You swear that you had nothing to do with these thieves?” Amity asks, and she inches closer to Luz in turn now. She can see the scene playing out in her head—she’s already imagined it countless times—the two retreating until they’re back to back against the goblins, finally forced to rely on each other for once. “Azura readied herself for a fight warily, both of them shifting to face the hobgoblins. They chittered amongst themselves as they fanned out to meet the witches.”
“I do, Hecate answered, holding her stare without flinching.” Luz seems to understand, because of course she can, and starts to approach her slowly again. Her body is low, angled towards the invisible threat behind the children, their wide eyes following the intent focus in her eyes as they turn towards the goblins enclosing on Azura and Hecate. “I ask your forgiveness and your trust, Azura, but I know they are hard-won after all that’s happened between us, so I do not require it.”
The line of her shoulder relaxes for a brief second as she looks over, and her arm brushes against Amity. The contact is barely anything really—especially compared to the trip here—but it still feels like a small bolt of straight electricity transferring over to her.
“Azura,” Luz repeats, “I only want you to know my stave shall never again cross yours.”
“Have you heard the many stories of the hobgoblins?” Amity says, still staring hard at the imaginary goblins creeping up the edge of the carpet—if only Gus were here; she knows the children would be even more excited to actually see the creatures rather than just her and Luz in front of them. Though she doesn’t know if she’s concentrating so hard on not meeting Luz’s gaze because she’s staying in character, or because it sends a thrill down her spine. “Azura glared at the goblins, still silent, still waiting, still taunting. They were confident. And she had no weapon. They fight like shadows, Hecate. Theft isn’t their only skill.”
“Perhaps. But we fight like witches, don’t we?”
Amity glances over her shoulder now, unable to resist the temptation as she looks at Luz’s eyes, still glimmering with a stolen smile. One to match tugs at her lips, though she tries to weaken it for the effect of her next words, the hopeful extension of an olive branch. “You want me to believe you fight alongside a warrior of peace? Help me with these goblins, Hecate. And we shall see.”
Luz’s expression changes, but before Amity can try to decipher it, she—Hecate nods to Azura, one quick acknowledgement of the hidden invitation in her previous statement before they charge.
The kids seem to understand when the show’s over, jumping to their feet as they start to clap. Amity grins back at them—the applause seems louder today, so either she and Luz had found some honorary members of the Azura Book Club or they loved Luz’s performance as much as she did. Either works, she supposes, whatever makes them happy.
She wasn’t sure how they’d react when Luz had suggested the idea yesterday, when Amity had mentioned she couldn’t hang out because of her time here, but she thought it would be a fun experiment. Maybe she and Luz could do it more often. Together. Not that this is a date. Or any other days like this would ever be a date.
She’s still smiling as she looks over to her fellow performer again, to gauge her reaction, only to find Luz already grinning widely at her in return. That fidgety something floundering against her ribs finally settles, grounded by Luz’s smile—turning warm and slow and tender like treacle or caramel or anything sweet—and her own smile grows even broader.
And then Luz’s fingers brush against the back of her hand. Graze the inside of her wrist. Slip between her own. And Luz is holding her hand.
Oh. And Luz is holding her hand.
When Amity peeks over at her again out of the corner of her eye—too unsure for a direct look—Luz is facing the kids again, lifting their interlocked hands into the air triumphantly before sweeping into a theatrical bow. And Amity can only follow her, playing along yet again—but this time it’s because Luz took her hand and Luz was smiling and Luz, Luz, Luz.
She tries not to pay too much attention when Luz doesn’t let go of her as they straighten, even as her fingertips turn cold and her face hot. Even as that warm slow tender thing prods at her again. She also tries to ignore her brain reminding her that this was a play—this wasn’t real—that now it’s over and Luz won’t be looking at her like that anymore. Like Amity holds the answer to all her problems, like maybe she might even be the answer.
This isn’t a date.
Despite that, Amity still freezes when Luz leans close to her, eyes sparkling. “That was so much fun!”
“You do make a pretty good Hecate,” she says, silently willing her cheeks not to flush. Luz is right there. She keeps her eyes on the kids as they pack up their things, clearing off the carpet as they help each other up, a few pantomiming her and Luz’s movements from the reading. “And I liked your voices.”
“Thanks! It’s too bad we didn’t have time for the fight scene—the kids really need to hear my monster voice.” Luz’s tone sinks deeper, flattening out at her end of the sentence.
Amity bites back a laugh. “I’m sure they would’ve loved it.”
As the children start walking back towards the main area of the library, called by the promise of parents and guardians to sweep them away, Amity squeezes Luz’s hand once. She’s immediately mortified by the unconsciousness of it, the automatic reaction, but she attempts to keep her voice balanced as she speaks. “Ready for the best part?”
“That wasn’t it?”
Amity pulls Luz a bit forward as the kids rush by, chorusing thank you’s and goodbye’s. As always, Braxas is the last to leave, lingering at the back of the group as they clear out.
“Thank you, Miss Amity. Goodbye, Miss Luz,” he says eagerly, hugging them each in quick succession. Luz’s face shifts at the embrace around her knees, eyes widening and lips parting in a grin.
Amity pats his head at her turn, smiling. “Bye, Braxas. See you next time, okay?”
“Will we be finishing the book then?”
“We’ll have to see. It depends on whether Miss Luz decides to grace us with her presence again—we certainly can’t do it without her,” she replies, studiously ignoring the way Luz looks towards her at that.
Braxas’ head whips toward her friend, anticipation written across his face.
“We’ll have to see,” Luz echoes mysteriously, though she gives him a wink.
“Yeah! Okay, thank you so much!” He clasps his hands together, beaming as he follows the rest of the group.
They both stand there for a moment afterwards, with nothing to do. It was over. Was it over? Clearing her throat, Amity tugs gently on Luz’s hand to guide her back over to the two chairs set between the ears of the carpet shaped like a cat, where she’d placed down the book. Now, she picks it up, holding it out to Luz.
“Thanks,” she says, and with her newly freed hand as Luz takes back her book, gestures around them. “For the book and, um, doing this.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to do it.”
Do what though? All she wants is to blurt out the words, grab both of Luz’s hands and ask whether she wanted to read to the kids or read to the kids with Amity. But she doesn’t dare. “Thanks for letting me be Azura, then. I know you probably wanted the role.”
“Eh.” Luz shrugs, unbothered. “It made you happy. Plus we can switch next time.”
“Next time?”
“Well, yeah. It’s what Braxas wants, right?”
And what she wants. Amity clears her throat again. “Right. I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear it.”
“I think he’s really invested in the story too. I wonder if he’s interested in our club,” she muses, now flipping through her book idly.
Amity doesn’t really know what pushes her to say her next sentence. Maybe it’s how Luz doesn’t look like she’s paying too much attention. Maybe it’s how the colour-stained light through the glass window falls over the side of Luz’s face. Maybe it’s how there’s a small smile dancing on her lips, one that hasn’t really faded the whole time. Maybe it’s none of that at all, and Amity just wants to say it. Whatever it is, she gathers in whatever courage she has, and, “I kind of like how it’s just us though.”
Her hand pauses over the pages. Amity freezes, terrified until Luz looks up, and she’s smiling even brighter at her. “I like how it’s just us too.”
This isn’t a date.
“Hey,” she says, and now she’s squeezing Amity’s hand this time. “Do you want to get out of here?”
She doesn’t even need to know where they’re going.
Amity lets out a laugh as she sees where Luz has in mind, outspread branches and incandescent leaves giving it away as they fly down to the top of the cliff. They’re sitting close to each other again, her cheek pressed against Luz’s shoulder, turned enough towards the girl to notice as the corners of Luz’s mouth rise at the sound.
The warm slow tender squeezes tight in her chest again.
“I thought maybe we could watch the sunset or something. It’s a nice view.” Luz flashes her a quick smile, landing them at the base of the tree—the Grom tree, grown by Luz in split seconds when they’d somehow combined their magic during the dance—with roots sprawling into the ground around them and blocking out the rest of the forest, the rest of the world.
“Oh,” she manages to say, watching as Luz spins the staff upright in a practiced motion, the owl folding its wings back in. She props it against the trunk of the tree before sliding down to sit on the grass unceremoniously, tapping the empty place beside her.
She knows there’s a blush rising in her cheeks when she joins Luz, kicking her feet against the ground as she leans against the tree, but she tries to pretend it doesn’t exist. It is a nice view—she hadn’t noticed the last time she was here, considering they were holding back a demon from the rest of Bonesborough—white clouds against a luminous sky, the molten light of the sun reflecting across the waves and the grass. It’s just that it’s also a romantic view, like how watching the sunset is a romantic activity, and this isn’t a date, no matter how much it feels like one.
Because Luz doesn’t like her in that way.
“I haven’t been here in a while,” she says abruptly, mostly as a distraction from her thoughts. But she really hasn’t—the tree should be a nice reminder, of Grom, of their dance, of them, but it’s imperfect, flawed. That’s what friends do. “Do you come by a lot?”
“No, actually,” Luz answers, huffing out a laugh. “Not really. I came here one day after school, but…I don’t know, it felt weird without you.”
Amity keeps staring up at the clouds drifting freely across the sky, even as her heart skips a beat. “Why now, then?”
“Because I didn’t want to just go back to the Owl House. This would be over.”
“I didn’t have to leave right away. We could’ve stayed there,” she points, and Luz shrugs, the gesture not quite as nonchalant as earlier.
“It’s different—it’s just us here, and I don’t want that to be over.”
Me neither, she wants to say, but it’s trapped in her throat. And so they lapse back into silence, even as Amity’s acutely aware of the girl beside her. Luz’s fingers are lying absently on the ground beside her own hand until they aren’t, tapping against and sifting through the grass with a distracted energy. Then Luz exhales—hard—and her pinky stretches out.
To wrap around Amity’s.
Lightning jolts through her fingertips again, the barest amount of contact ringing alarms in her mind. She shivers suddenly, not even sure whether she’s hot or cold or some combination of the two.
Luz looks up, lips pressed slightly together. “Is it cold?”
Amity starts to shake her head; she isn’t cold exactly, the breeze mostly held at bay by the tree—but how do you tell someone that they made you feel scraped raw on the inside and every one of their casual comments or expressions or gestures left a type of icy heat inside of you? That your nerves were always flicked on when they were around? That you felt breathless and your heart was hammering against your chest and you were regularly holding back a laugh? That whenever you saw them grin all you wanted to do was run up to them and kiss the smile right off their lips? That there was something like pulled sugar inside of you, something warm and slow and tender, and it went taut every time you saw them?—and then Amity pauses, because oh, this is much more than a simple crush. How had she not seen that?
And how do you tell someone that?
She doesn’t speak for a moment too long, absorbed by the unexpected realization and when she manages to remember that she’d been asked a question, Luz is already moving her hand away from Amity’s. She watches as she takes out her constant pad of paper and pencil, drawing the beginning of a glyph—Luz’s brow is furrowed, a decidedly adorable scrunch to her mouth as she finishes the last two lines.
Amity does have to tell her, doesn’t she? Because she doesn’t see another way to all of this, not when they’ll be meeting up again at the library the next week to continue the book and who knows if they’ll end up in the same spot and she can’t sit in front of her again and keep these thoughts to herself anymore. Can’t sit here in front of Luz right now, on the cliff above the sea with their tree towering over them—that’s what friends do—and not tell her she wants to be more than that. She wants more than friendship, if Luz’ll have her.
Amity wants this to be a date.
“Luz,” she says, softly at first as she tries to get her attention. The other girl’s pressing a palm against the spell to bring it to life, the paper caving in as a ball of light appears in its stead, floating between cupped hands.
She finally looks up after, presenting the light towards Amity with a smile. “It’s warm when you hold it, if that helps. I didn’t think it was the safest to start a fire out here, so this is the next best thing.”
Amity looks at her—Luz’s faint grin, the flickering glow over her face, the pink leaves drifting through the air around them, the way she’s offering the orb of light—and yeah, she needs to tell her.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, accepting the light. A smaller shiver runs through her again and she’s appreciative of the warmth, the chill in her other hand having gone unnoticed. “I actually wanted to—”
“Does it work?” Luz interrupts, leaning forward eagerly.
“Yes, but—”
“Are you sure? I can make more if it’s not enough,” she offers, the end of her pencil hovering over the paper.
“Luz,” she says again, mildly exasperated even as she suppresses a fond smile. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” she answers, her own smile faltering before she shrugs. “But okay. Shoot.”
Amity blinks. “Shoot what?”
“Go ahead, I mean.” The corners of Luz’s lips turn upwards again. “What is it?”
“Oh. Okay. Um—” Amity lets out a breath, twisting her fingers together. Just because she knows she has to say it doesn’t make anything easier. Luz is a good friend, one of her best friends. She really doesn’t want to destroy whatever they have going on already, for the slim chance she feels the same thing. But she’s done doing nothing too.
It just takes a little more courage, right? She’d done it earlier at the library and it had gone fine. More than fine.
“Amity—?”
“I like you,” she blurts out, hands curling into fists. The light starts to float upwards, no longer in her grasp, but she can’t pay attention to it, too busy scanning Luz’s face for any change.
Luz’s face breaks into a dazzling grin as she straightens. “Me too.” There’s a low, hushed lilt to her voice, and she doesn’t understand.
Amity shakes her head. “No, Luz, you don’t—I like you. More than as a friend.”
“Amity, Amity, I know.” She reaches over—forgoing the pinky this time as she takes Amity’s hand properly, nudging her interlaced fingers apart so Luz’s own can wind in between. “I’m saying I like you too.”
“Really?” Her head snaps up, incredulous, and she’s almost scared that this is somehow a prank—another joke from Ed and Em, and they’d dragged both Amity’s feelings and Luz into this—but it fades when she sees Luz’s gaze on her. It’s soft and trusting and she doesn’t know whether they’re alit with sunlight or hope or a smile, but she does know that Luz’s eyes never lie.
Which means Luz likes her. Too. As in back. As in Luz likes her the way Amity likes her. Oh.
“Yeah,” Luz whispers, “Really. I really, really, like you.” Then she tilts her head in the cutest way possible. “I thought you knew. Isn’t that why you asked me out?”
“I—what?”
Her eyes widen and she shifts closer. “Wait, so this really wasn’t a date?”
“I mean, I didn’t think—well—I wasn’t—it’s—it’s not not a date,” she says lamely, sputtering. With their proximity, Amity can see as the corner of Luz’s lips curls up until the rest of her mouth follows in a smile.
Then Luz moves even nearer, closing the space between them as their shoulders end up huddled together, their hands intertwined on Amity’s knee. She squeezes it once. “That sounds nice.”
“Yeah,” she replies, before she can think of a better answer—she’s still baffled that this peculiar, radiant girl likes her back. “Yeah, it does.”
“Not not a date.”
Luz is still staring at her when they both start to laugh, the words sinking in fully—plus she’s giddy with this newfound knowledge. Amity’s giggling slows first as she finds herself just watching Luz, at the amusement dancing across her expression and the shine to her eyes, and the girl seems to notice, her own laughter waning as she ducks her head. The air falls quiet and Luz looks away, what might be a blush rising to her face.
A little unsure now, Amity looks at the sunset too—and it’s pretty, hues of dark red and soft orange and pale yellow streaking across the undersides of clouds as well as the sky—but she’s still distracted. By Luz.
It had been hard to focus before—Luz had made it hard to focus—but it might’ve just become impossible, she thinks, and yet she can’t find it in herself to care. Not as whatever absurdly sweet thing that had been coiled in her chest thaws now, cascading through her like warm slow tender honey in her veins.
“Hey, Luz?”
The girl hums.
“I really, really like you too,” she admits, and for once, her voice doesn’t falter.
Luz’s gaze on her softens even more, if it’s possible, and she lets her head drop onto Amity’s shoulder, tucking into the space between her neck and her shoulder in a way that says she knows and she gets it and yes, she feels like that too, if you can believe it. “I’m glad.”
They laugh again, the sound quick but easy, and Amity turns halfway, just in time to catch the sun’s warmth flashing in Luz’s smile. Finally relaxing against the tree trunk, she closes her eyes, her head resting gently against the top of Luz’s as she lets the moment wash over her.
One breath, in and out, deep and content. She was wrong earlier—now she knows she won’t be able to stop smiling.
“Me too.”
Amity isn’t ready to leave. Not yet, not with this perfect moment, not this spot, not with Luz, not anything—all she wants is to stay here a little longer, if she can. Without any fear or worries, and there’s only the sky, the sun, and Luz.
But time doesn’t pause for anyone, no matter how hard she wishes—and nobody’s mastered the spell in ages—and when the sun finally disappears properly behind the line where sea meets sky, Luz starts to move again, sitting upright.
“We should, um—” She stops to yawn, the corners of her eyes crinkling in a way that has Amity light-headed at how cute she is all over again, before continuing, “Should go back. Eda didn’t give me a curfew or anything but King likes to stay by the door when we leave sometimes and I don’t want to disturb him. And if Hooty’s, you know, Hooty, he might wake up.”
“Oh yeah, of course,” she says, following Luz as she stands up. It’s an instinctive gesture to dust off her hands but she forgets about the whole Luz’s hand is linked with her own thing—funny that, considering she’d been panicking so much about it earlier, but now it feels completely natural.
Then her nerves return despite her best attempts, reappearing as soon as she tugs Luz a little closer by accident. A lot closer.
Huffing out a small laugh, Luz leans into the motion, swaying close enough that she shifts into the tiny space between them and her lips glide over Amity’s cheek. It’s a quick peck—she’s there one second, and backing up the next—but her face feels on fire when Luz steps away.
“Ready?” she asks, offering her a smile as she holds out Eda’s staff.
Amity gapes back, cheeks hot—she isn’t going to address that? She isn’t going to address that? Luz had kissed Amity’s cheek. And they’re just going to move on?
Luz tilts her head. “Amity?”
“Right,” she mumbles, ducking her head as she climbs on after the human. She ends up behind Luz again and—less hesitantly than the last two times—with her arms wrapped around her waist.
The other girl glances over her shoulder to check on her as they lift into the air once more, mouth sloping into an almost sheepish smile when Amity’s eyes flick up to meet hers. There’s a ruddiness to her cheeks as Luz whirls back around and Amity has to smother a laugh—finally, finally, a taste of what it felt like to be on the other end. Her own face feels somewhat less warm.
I’m saying I like you too.
Amity notices belatedly that she's smiling again as she hears Luz’s words ring in her head and she leans forward, even closer to Luz. When the girl seems to settle into her hold, she smiles wider, slumping against Luz’s back with the side of her head pressing into the thicker material of the human’s hoodie. It’s nice—comfortable, she muses, the last thing to cross her mind as her eyes drift shut against a stronger gust of wind.
They open again a few moments later, her ears pricking up as the rush of air dies down, and suddenly it’s much darker. The sun is fully set, the pinpricks of stars through the deep blue of the sky gradually growing brighter.
Propping her chin onto Luz’s shoulder, she squints as the silhouette of a familiar, crooked building comes into focus, a shadowed outline against the night if not for the welcoming glow through windows of stained glass, the flickering lantern above the door still lit in greeting.
The Owl House, fast approaching. They’re back.
Amity sits up, taking in a breath—she still doesn’t feel ready. After tonight, it’s a return to normalcy, a return to the manor, to school, to expectations, and to pressure. A return to everything that stops existing whenever she’s around Luz.
She just wants a little more time. Five minutes. Anything.
“Hey,” she calls, pitching her voice forward so Luz can hear, “Can we land here? I want to—”
Luz is already turning the staff in a slow arc downwards, circling around until their feet touch the ground. “What’s up?” she asks as she waits for Amity to get off first. She does, disappointed she has to let go of Luz, but offers a hand to help her for personal consolation. Amity doesn’t think she could ever get tired of holding Luz’s hand, and she’s delighted when Luz doesn’t drop hers even after she plucks Eda’s staff out of the air.
“Uh—” She’s preoccupied by the easy grip of Luz’s hand in hers and it takes a moment before she remembers she doesn’t have a real reason for them to stop here. “I was wondering if I could walk you to the door?”
It’s only after the words leave her throat that she remembers—abruptly—that stupid book Ed and Em had pushed into her hands. What to do on the first date, Chapter X; Walk your date to the door.
There’s a particular flush that steals over Luz’s face at the words though—it’s faint, but Amity’s paying attention—so maybe the book has something right going on. Not that she’d ever tell the twins.
Luz still hasn’t answered, but based on her expression, Amity has a guess at what her response is. “Luz?” Maybe she isn’t immune to teasing her—it’s only fair, after the number of times she’s blushed today.
“Right! Um—” Her eyes are gleaming when she looks up, cheeks rosy. “Please.”
They fall silent as they start walking forward to the door, both of their steps equally slow. Amity’s dragging her feet as she searches for something to say, hoping Hooty’s asleep by now. She doesn’t want to share this moment with anyone other than Luz, least of all the house demon.
“You know—”
“I’m sorry—” Luz blurts it out at the same time as her, before cutting off. “You first.”
She shakes her head—she’ll always want to hear what Luz has to say. “No, go ahead.”
Luz lets out a small sigh, if she can call it that; it’s barely an exhalation. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For making us stay out so late. I mean, I’m the one with the staff so I should’ve said something earlier, because I definitely didn’t mean for you to fall asleep on the way back, and just—yeah. I’m sorry for that.”
“For the fact that I fell asleep?” she jokes.
“For not noticing that you were tired. I was, um, distracted, but I know you’re busy and everything. You have other plans and probably wanted to come back earlier.”
Amity’s steps stall as she finally looks at Luz, realizing she’s genuinely apologetic over this. “It’s okay, Luz,” she says, fighting back a smile. “I didn’t mind—I was comfortable.”
Oh. She can see as she mouths the word, understanding crossing over Luz’s face before the corners of her lips twitch upwards.
“Plus I didn’t really get much sleep last night,” she adds, unsure of why she’s saying it even as the words pass from thought into speech, but it’s for Luz. If she ever told anyone how she felt, they’d probably say it was too soon, but she truly might just do anything for this astounding girl. And maybe Amity should be nervous or embarrassed or something along those lines at the clarity of her feelings for Luz, but for once, she isn’t. It’s the truth. “I was nervous.”
Luz grins, sudden and effervescent. “I was too.”
Oh. Amity doesn’t know if her lips are forming the word silently too, but it echoes through her head—oh, oh, oh. Luz had told her she liked her but still, she was uncertain. Did Luz feel like that too?
Amity stops walking entirely, planting her feet against the ground as she swivels to face her properly. Luz’s hand, wider and warmer than Amity’s, is still in her grasp but she reaches for the other one too. Luz lets her take it, earnest eyes turning to her, and Amity’s reminded of another time a while ago, where they’d been standing similarly face to face with nobody else around.
That night at Grom, in the hallway away from the crowd, Amity had been too afraid to hold Luz’s hands like this—loosely clasped in her own, fingers lacing together like they belonged—but she isn’t now. Even if it doesn’t seem too special to anyone else, she’s faced that fear with the human before her now.
“Thank you, Luz,” she says, voice quiet. “For coming out tonight. Doing this with me.”
“Course, Amity! I had fun,” she replies, casual and easy, but there’s a shrouded question in her words.
She smiles at her. “I had fun too.” Fun. It’s too small of a word—simple fun doesn’t make her heart skip a beat, doesn’t make her smile so wide her cheeks ache. But she isn’t sure how to say that yet, so fun works.
“Oh, good.” Relief, clear as day. Then, more hesitantly, “Are you talking about Azura Bookclub or…?”
“Both,” she says, but amends swiftly, “Especially, uh, after.”
Luz laughs, eyes sweeping over Amity with a fondness that makes her own insides ache a bit, but in a good way, if it’s possible. As if sensing her thoughts, Luz squeezes her hand gently, expression sobering even as her eyes twinkle. “Thanks for asking me out.”
“Anytime.” It comes off smoother than intended—Amity really would go with Luz anywhere, if she asked. But Luz tilts her head, impish and playful.
“How about next week?”
Amity’s heart does a little jump-kick at the words—she doesn’t think she could ever get tired of knowing Luz likes her back either. A helpless grin spreads over her face and she squeezes both of Luz’s hands. “Next week sounds good. For Braxas, right?”
“Right.” Something that might almost be a smirk edges its way into Luz’s voice, the quirk of her smile. “For Braxas.”
The conversation falls into another lull, but it’s heavier this time. It’s almost time to say goodbye—Amity knows it and so does Luz. They’ve reached the ring of firelight swinging from the lantern above the door, and with it, they’ve reached the end of the night.
And suddenly, Amity doesn’t care about where they are, what time it is or that Hooty can see them—or anyone else in the Owl House, for that matter, if they bothered to open the door or even pass by a window. What she does care about is the pretty girl standing in front of her, holding her hands.
She just wants to do the same thing Luz had done for her. And selfishly, she just wants to see Luz blush.
Amity goes in for it, kissing Luz’s cheek with one motion—nothing much, it’s fast and it’s chaste, honestly—but she stifles a smile as she feels the grip on her hands tighten. “I had a nice time, Luz. Thank you, really.”
When she draws back, Luz’s mouth is slack, eyes locking onto hers. One of her hands slips away, a few fingers skimming where Amity’s lips had just touched. “I—um—yeah, I—” She takes in a breath, her gaze faltering as she shakes her head quickly. “Sorry, yeah, I had a nice time too. Obviously. A great time.”
And yes, so maybe Amity won’t deny it’s the slightest bit fun to be on the other side of the situation.
Luz clears her throat, slowly lowering their hands—but she doesn’t let go yet. “I should probably go in.”
“Probably.”
Neither of them move.
Amity makes the decision, squeezing Luz’s hands one more time—reveling in the sensation of skin against skin, palm against palm—then she untangles their fingers, tugging away. They both exhale at that, and Amity’s careful to not actually move back from Luz—she knows what it’s like to constantly be checking for any sign of rejection—gaze trailing down to their separated hands apologetically.
“Bye, Luz,” she says softly, lifting her eyes again to watch her take the last few steps to the door. Hooty’s eyes are closed, fortunately, beak tipped open to the side as he snores quietly. It might only be because of the rush of happiness coming over her, but she might even say the striped nightcap on his head could be considered cute.
“Bye, Amity.” Luz’s cheeks are dusted with red as she slides past the doorway, turning around to offer her a wave—and nearly dropping Eda’s staff as she does. “Next week,” she promises, and the door clicks shut, leaving the afterimage of one last bright grin.
Amity’s shoulders slump with a satisfied sigh and she falls back against the wall next to the door, lips still tingling from the contact with Luz’s cheek. There’s a wide, stupid smile on her face and she can’t seem to turn it down.
“Hoot!” She presses a hand to her chest as Hooty’s frustratingly high voice rings out, the demon stretching out from the door to look at her. “Sounds like someone had a nice time. Sure is a lot later, huh? Must’ve gone and done a whole bunch of things?”
“Whatever, Hooty,” she mutters, but there’s no bite in her tone for once. Even if she wasn’t already thrilled with how well the night had gone—how had she ever been nervous with Luz?—she has to admit it was a halfway decent gesture for him not to interrupt a few minutes earlier.
And besides. She’s still thinking about Luz; Luz who likes her, Luz who kissed her, Luz who she’s going out with again in a week. Luz, who’s absolutely fantastic and brilliant and magical and exceptional and Luz, who makes Amity’s breath catch in her throat.
“Amity?”
“What.”
“Did you have fun on your date?”
Amity sighs again, though she’s still too giddy to find the effort to be irritated. It’s a question she knows her answer to with absolute certainty, smiling to herself as she looks up at the sky.
“Yeah,” she says, watching as a passing star trails silver in its wake across the night. She doesn’t make a wish, not tonight, not when—for now—she has everything she could want. “Yeah, I did.”
Because it had been a date after all.