Pretty Little Witches

Chapter 3 - It's Not College

A/N: Hi, it's Erica c: Um, please give any suggestions or improvements on my chapter, and vote if you like it please <3 thank you so much! See you soon.

I tugged at the too-long sleeves of my robes, while pacing in front of the bathroom mirrors. Today was the first day of lessons, and even though I've done this three years already, my nerves were always tangled and I felt like throwing up.

I stared at the thin caramel strands that hung on the sides of my face like light curtains. My face was pale. I stared at the splash of freckles across my nose. I stared at the hazel eyes that gazed back at me from the parallel spectrum. I shifted awkwardly and tucked my hair behind my ears.

I couldn't stop thinking about the chocolate-haired boy I met at the comic book store. Dan, his name was. I repeated the name like a piece of gum, turning it over and over in my mouth, except the flavor didn't run out.

There was this old comic bookshop, partially hidden behind the line of hardware shops, which could only be reached following a narrow staircase to the back of the second floor. The shop itself was ordinary. It smelt of old books, pages, dust and glossy magazines. However, I have always found it special ever since my brother introduced it to me - a space to lose my mind in piles upon piles of colourful bold titles.

Then, he started coming.

He worked there as a summer job. For one and a half summers, I couldn't work up the courage to talk to him. He wore plain dark-coloured clothes with a name tag, with messy handwriting-scribbled DANIEL HOWELL, that was clipped on the right of his chest. He was always listening to music, whilst manning the tills, restocking the shelves and tidying the reception. Not many people went there, as I would know, sitting on those comfy old-smelling armchairs at the corner of the shop for all those years, glancing up from behind comics if the occasional five customers enter the shop, so he had plenty of free time. For the first summer, I spent the majority of the time "perving" on him behind the counter, as his eyes (brown eyes, I must clarify) swam across the pages or books, or when he dusted the counter with an old cloth. He only stayed for 4 weeks, and he didn't seem to notice me. On the fifth week, he was gone, and I had trudged home crying. I tried to avoid the bookshop for two weeks until I couldn't take it anymore and I went back.

The next year, he was back behind the reception, and I squealed inwardly when I saw him. The same name tag was clipped on his shirt. Then something magical happened. He started to sit in the armchair opposite from me to read, which resulted in serious flushing, awkward eye-contact, reading the same lines three times and clutching my comics a bit tighter. But life felt good, so it was worth it.

It was mid-august when he said the first thing to me. It was the first time I haven't had anything to read in months and I was peering through the shelves through the NEW ARRIVALS section, when a silver cover caught my attention. It was the new edition Bunny Suicide which came out only three days ago. It was admittedly stupid, but I became excited. Reaching for the top shelf, I stood on my tiptoes, making an exaggerated show while bouncing up and down repeatedly. Crossing my arms in frustration, I scowled and averted my eyes onto the floor. Suddenly, a pair of black leather converse appeared on the carpet, and I felt a warm presence next to me.

Taking a risk, I glanced up and I felt my breath hitch. His profile was stunning. He was looking up where his arm was extended above me. His face was so close, I could feel the air moving as he breathed. His brown hair had fallen over his eyes a little, so that he was squinting through his ruffled fringe as he scooped up the Bunny Suicide comic swiftly.

"Looking for something?" He looked at me through the corner of his eyes.

"Hey!" I surprised myself by how bold the words sounded. "I was going to get that!"