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Kissing Luke was maybe Julie’s new favorite thing in the world — but it was also dangerous.
They were curled together on the leather couch in the studio. She’d meant to finish her English essay, really she had, but after half an hour of letting him idly play with the strings of her hoodie, of feeling his breath skim the side of her neck as she pretended to stare at her laptop screen, she’d shoved it aside to tackle him down into the cushions.
“Stop distracting me,” she scolded, but the effect was lessened by the dumb smile she couldn’t keep off her face as she hovered above him.
He let out a huff of laughter. “No regrets.”
Rolling her eyes, she leaned down, whiffing the faint aroma of sea-salt and sunshine that always lingered on his skin—a California boy, through and through. He quietly hummed when her lips found his, his calloused fingers just barely touching the curve of her jaw. He was so solid, so real, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath her. One of his arms snaked around her waist, the other sliding down from her shoulder until their fingers tangled together.
She pulled back for a breath, taking in the pink stain on his cheeks, the fullness of his just-kissed lips.
Only two weeks had passed since Julie and the guys had found a way to touch each other, but already it was hard to remember a time when she and Luke weren’t like this. It was all new and exciting, but it also felt so natural—the gentle heat between them, the quiet nudges, the draw of her heart towards him.
“Hi,” he said, gazing up at her with the softest smile.
His smile. Luke was a generally cheerful guy, and she’d seen plenty of the smiles he gave Reggie and Alex, the curl of his lips when he laughed at the movies they’d started watching together, the grins he threw out toward the audiences they played for at the gigs Flynn kept booking. But she loved these smiles the most. They were gentle and sweet and just for her. They made her stomach flutter with a thousand butterflies.
And then something really did flutter, not in her stomach but on her head. A second later the pile of hair that had been fastened back with a butterfly clip came loose, the curls falling down around either side of Luke’s face like curtains.
He lifted their entwined hands to brush back the mass of locks. “Sorry,” she murmured, pulling back an inch, and then froze when something rustled again on the top of her head. She looked up just as a butterfly, wings too bright blue and iridescent to be real, lifted itself from her curls, flitting around the studio until it settled on the leaf of one of her mother’s potted plants.
“My clip,” Julie gasped, combing her fingers through her hair.
Luke reached out to take her hand again. A tiny smirk was playing at the edges of his mouth. “Do I give you butterflies, Julie?”
She dropped her cheek against the crook of his neck and sighed, embarrassed. “Sometimes my magic can be very literal.”
They both watched as the butterfly lifted itself from the plant and fluttered in a lazy circle, the pearlescent blue wings reflecting rainbows of color as the sunlight poured in from the window. It settled on the lid of the grand piano.
When Luke spoke again, his voice filled with awe. “Your magic is beautiful.”
In the year after her mother died, Julie had nearly forgotten that magic could be wondrous. Seeing it again through Luke’s eyes, it was like rediscovering herself. She could feel that amazement once more, the thrill of making the impossible happen, that spark of strength inside her.
She lifted her chin and let their lips slot back together. She didn’t think she could ever get tired of this, of being near him, of having no more space between them. Just mouth against mouth, chest against chest, breaths intermingled, pulses racing.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured between kisses.
Julie pulled back suddenly, overwhelmed by the wave of affection she felt for him. She didn’t know what to do with it, how she was meant to contain it.
“What?” he said quietly, sensing the shift in her.
She shook her head. If she opened her mouth, she might say something she hadn’t thought through yet.
So she pecked his cheek and pulled herself away, settling back into the couch.
“Nothing. I just—I liked that clip.”
“Me too,” he said. “But I also really like your hair down.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded, tugging gently at one of her curls, watching it bounce back into its shape.
She flicked at his hand. “Okay, now I need to finish this essay. For real.”
He held up his palms in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay. I’ll just—” he scooted to the far end of the sofa, “be way over here, minding my own business.”
“Mmhmm,” she hummed, raising a doubtful eyebrow, but decided this was the best assurance she’d get from him.
She picked up the laptop again and managed to type another few sentences before her eyes flickered back to Luke, who had collapsed into the corner of the couch and was staring up at the ceiling. To be fair, he was fulfilling his promise and keeping to himself—but still. With his head tilted up like that, she could admire the sharp lines of his jaw and the long slope of his neck and the cords of muscle on his arms that were stretched out on either side of him. Why did he have to be so stupidly handsome?
“Oh, nevermind,” she declared, pushing the laptop away and hurrying toward him. He met her halfway, his arms catching her as she fell against him, their lips finding each other.
They were both smiling too broadly to deepen the kiss, their teeth colliding and mouths off center, so she pulled back and buried her face against the fabric of his tee shirt, giggling at herself. “This is ridiculous.”
“Let the record show, that time was totally on you,” Luke said, filled with mirth.
“Are you complaining?”
“Nah.”
She lifted her head, looking into his hazel eyes. They were glinting with joy and affection and something else she only knew how to name because she felt it too.
When her mother wrote that last spell for her, could she possibly have known? That it would bring her this boy, a kindred spirit, who looked at her like that—like she was the sun and he was caught in her orbit?
She locked her arms around his neck and pulled his face down again, and this time she let the kiss linger. He fell forwards, and now she was the one on her back with him above her. Even with his body hovering over her, his chest pressing her into the leather, she felt weightless. Like this happiness could fill her like a balloon, and she could walk on air.
“Uhh.” Luke pulled back, glancing around them. “Jules, we’re floating.”
“What?”
And just like that they crashed back into the couch, Luke managing to catch himself on his elbows so he didn’t entirely crush her. “Oh man, are you okay?” he asked, worriedly pushing her hair back from her face so he could look her over.
“I’m fine,” she said, sitting upright. “I… lost control again.”
“I don’t mind.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I the-opposite-of-mind.”
“I could have hurt you,” Julie said quietly, pulling her legs up and dropping her cheek against her knee.
“I’m dead, remember?” Luke nudged his elbow against her leg. “You can’t hurt me, Julie.”
She knew that, but somehow, it was so easy to forget.
“Besides,” Luke continued, “you’ve already made me fall out of the sky once before, and that worked out pretty well.”
Her lips twitched. She bit them to keep the smile from becoming visible.
“I know you’re smiling,” he said, poking a finger into the dimple of her cheek.
“Hey,” she protested, tugging her face back, but the grin came loose anyway. “This is serious. I can’t keep losing control every time I get distracted by your…”
“Magic lips?” Luke supplied, with an obnoxiously large grin.
“Wow, you are really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Just a little.” He leaned toward her, glancing down at her with hooded eyes. “It’s probably a good thing you’re the witch, though.”
She tilted her chin, edging closer. “Why’s that?”
“‘Cause I’m over-the-moon happy right now, but I’d prefer not to see how that metaphor would play out.”
He pulled her into another kiss. And even if they didn’t reach the moon, she swore she saw stars.