https://youtu.be/AH1u3i6baw8

Makeup and glitter smeared my sheets and pillowcase. I groaned, taking in the sight as I stood over my bed first thing that afternoon. Boy, was I ever glad I had booked the day off in anticipation of a hangover. This was exponentially worse. I was sore all over from being so tense in the waiting room, and my hair was greasy from pushing it out of my face in stress.

First, I needed a shower. Then, I would strip my bed and start a load of laundry before making a smoothie. Considering how disgusting I felt, I opted for my full shower routine, as opposed to the usual Saturday routine. With a true crime podcast on for entertainment, I spent a few minutes dry brushing in short strokes from my extremities into my heart to exfoliate my skin while the shower heated up. The hot water took ages to reach me, so I had plenty of time. When I finished, I got in and oil cleansed my face for five agonising minutes while running my hair under water. I scrubbed my hair, put in conditioner and clipped it up, then washed my face with a gel cleanser next. I was already over my decision to do the full shower—it took me at least an hour to do it all, which is why I only did it once a week. I scrubbed my body next with a basic bar soap, exfoliated with a homemade sugar scrub, then washed it off with a moisture bar; it was soapy, but full of nourishing oils. Finally, I shaved, then rinsed my hair and got out. I wasn't done yet, though. I still had to put on all my essence, serum, and face cream, as well as body lotion and oil. I topped it off with one spritz of my sandalwood perfume, sprayed my hair with detangler, then went to get dressed. I was even more exhausted than when I started, but I felt a lot better, at least, like a weight had been lifted off me.

My apartment was smaller than tiny. I had a microscopic washroom beside the front door, a closet-sized kitchen, and then a single room for the rest of my things. My bed sat in one corner beneath a wide window, separated from the room by a pair of burgundy silk screens. My desk sat against one of them, bearing my desktop PC and notebooks, with a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf built into the wall beside it. It was my favourite thing about my apartment. It was full, and stacks of books piled the floor around my desk; neatly, of course. My living room took up the remainder of what little space there was. Still, it was decorated to suit me and my landlord even said I could paint the walls, so long as I painted them back after. Technically I could anyway, but it was nice to know he was amenable nonetheless.

I dressed swiftly in black leggings and a red sweater, then added a soft black scarf just to feel extra cosy. I wasn't going anywhere, but I felt pretty and that's what mattered. Now that I felt somewhat human, I stepped into my tiny kitchen and prepared a smoothie. I was a bit lazy when it came to food, so every Sunday I did meal prep for the week, which included portioning smoothie ingredients into individual baggies and sticking them into the freezer. Then, all I had to do was dump it in the blender and off I went. It was one of the few ways I ensured I ate regularly, because one of my huge ADHD barriers was eating; if food wasn't readily available, I didn't eat most of the time. I wouldn't think about it until I was downright starving, and then I'd be too wiped to cook, so I'd end up ordering something. It was a vicious cycle my wallet hated. I hated meal prep, quite a lot, but at least it worked for the most part.

Smoothie in hand, I fell onto my second-hand sofa and clicked on the television. Finally, I had the brainspace to consider my phone. I had a message waiting from Gem, and another from Kayla. I started with Kayla's, knowing it would be less exciting. She had been back to the hospital to pick up Jody, and she was doing well. She was tired, sore, and hungry, but all right. Kayla was going to be spending the day with her until her mom got to town to take her home. Jody would be taking a short medical hiatus to get herself in order. This wasn't the first time she'd been rushed to the hospital, but I sure hoped it would be the last. In hindsight, she shouldn't have gone to that party without us or another friend, but she was with Damon, so we thought she'd be alright. She wasn't alone, after all. Apparently, we were wrong.

Gem's message was next, and I was much more excited about it. She was asking how I was doing; I sent her a quick response to say I was alright, but so tired. Then I asked how she was doing. We began a steady exchange that lasted for a solid hour. It was just a light back and forth, but it was pleasant nonetheless. I was utterly surprised to realise that. I so rarely enjoyed talking with people, this was downright unusual for me. I bit my lip just as the next message rolled in.

'You busy tomorrow?' Gem asked.

My heart thudded. 'Only in the morning. Why?'

Nerves bounding, I waited impatiently for her answer. The not-knowing was already driving me crazy. I just wanted to know the answer already! Fortunately, she didn't keep me waiting long.

'Want to join me for coffee and book shopping?'

I thought my heart might stop right then. Coffee and book shopping? Did she read my mind or something? Two of my favourite things packed into one date! Oh, my god, a date, this would be a date. She was asking me on a date. Me! I don't date! People are stressful, and rather boring. I much preferred my books and my camera, and my vinyl records. What more did I need?

And yet, here I was, excited at the prospect of going on a date with Gem. I hardly knew her, but I wanted to. That feeling was unusual for me. Honestly, I didn't like it much. What if she turned out to be a dud? What if she was creepy, or too intense? What if she was the sort of person who called her girlfriend "baby"?

There was only one way to find out.

On Sunday morning, I woke nervous and jittery. Unsure why at first, I went about my morning as usual. As I was making a pot of coffee, it struck me: I had my date later that day! Sleep had pushed the thought from my mind, but the intoxicating aroma of coffee beans snapped me to reality. My hands shook as I poured myself a mug. Then, a quick shower—dry brush, skincare, soaps, but no scrub—followed by a smoothie while I read for a little bit. Then, when I could put it off no longer, I got to work on meal prep. I had grocery shopped the night before, when I had a small amount of energy back. Now I had to dice all the veggies, portion everything, and stack it in my fridge and freezer.

I had little time left before my date. Trembling fingers made doing my makeup a challenge. I leaned over the small vanity sink and traced out my winged liner over soft, diffused burgundy eyeshadow, followed by mascara to enhance my lashes. I skipped lipstick and went for a peachy gloss instead; it was just coffee, after all, no need to go all out. Then, as it was a little cooler out, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a soft, knit burgundy sweater to match. I French tucked the front and picked a supple leather belt just for the look. My pants stayed up just fine. Finally, with no time left to waste, I stepped into my leather boots, rolled up the cuffs of my jeans, and hurried out the door.

My camera stayed at home, safely in its bag beside my bed. ­I almost brought it with me but thought better of it. We weren't going out to the park or something, we were sitting down for coffee and shopping for books together. Neither of those things called for a camera, to my dismay. Without my camera, I was light and naked in a way I didn't like. My camera acted as a barrier between me and the rest of the world sometimes. A barrier I needed.

I took the bus down to George and walked a block through a light mist. Silly me, I hadn't checked the weather before I left. By the time I reached the shop, my twin braids were damp and the sky was starting to open up. I rushed inside and was met by the smell of roasting coffee and old books. As I gathered myself on the mat and greeted the person behind the counter, I took in the shop. Warm lighting, plants in the front windows, and rich wood gave the shop a homey sort of feel. There were a few small, spindly tables scattered around the space, a flight of stairs to my right to a loft second floor, and a beaded doorway beside the espresso bar leading to even more books. Lost already, I fished out my phone and texted Gem.

"Up here," she called.

Above me, Gem leaned on the railing and smiled down at me, as radiant as I recalled. Her hair was loose and tucked behind one ear, fiery red against her creamy skin. Her jeans, band tee, flannel, and leather jacket made quite the combo. It suited her, much more than the dress had. She had her hands in her coat pockets as she watched me climb the steps to meet her.

"How are you?" she asked, removing her hands as I drew near.

"Good, can't complain, how about you?"

"I'm good, how's your friend?"

I shrugged. "She'll be all right, her mom picked her up."

"I'm glad to hear it." Her smile seemed genuine, but I couldn't be sure. "So, shall we get to shopping?"

I nodded, eagerness growing. I loved book shopping more than just about anything else. A new, or an old book, filled a void nothing else could. I mostly read mysteries and thrillers, with the odd horror novel or romance novel here or there. Gem was all about high fantasy, it seemed. She had a growing stack in her arm that all came from the same section. My own was an eclectic mix of new and used novels from multiple genres I couldn't wait to crack into. It was a blast walking through the extensive shelves in the long, narrow shop, pointing out interesting titles and covers, laughing about the more silly ones.

"No way!" I said as my finger skimming titles landed upon a pristine, used copy of Stephen King's IT. I tugged it from its snug space on the shelf and fished my phone out so I could pull up my favourite spreadsheet. "Can you hold this for a second, please?" I asked, offering IT to Gem. I skimmed through the document and found the information I needed, then took the book back to examine. The dimensions felt about right, the publisher and year were correct, and ... "Holy crap, I think this is a first edition!"

"What, seriously?"

"Yeah! Even the price and the identifier are correct. This is probably a first edition! How much do they want for it ...? Ouch!" I glared down at the price tag stuck to the back; it was way out of my price range.

"Let's see?" Gem prompted and leaned over my shoulder. Then, she smiled as she took it from my hands and added it to her stack. "I don't know when your birthday is," she admitted, "but happy birthday."

"Wait, really? You don't have to do that!"

Her smile grew, lip ring sparkling in the daylight pouring through the window. "I want to."

"Why?" I couldn't help but ask as my self-doubt grew.

"Because you were so excited about it. It was really cute."

I blushed deeply and dropped my eyes to the hardwood next to her. I hadn't meant to be cute, and now I was wholly self-aware. Cool fingers found mine then. I glanced up, shocked, only to be stunned by the intensity of Gem's mossy eyes.

"What do you think, shall we get some coffee and check out our haul?"

I smiled a little and nodded. She didn't let go of my hand as we wove our way through shelves to the front of the store. I watched, guilt roiling my belly, as my new Stephen King novel popped up on the display with its painful price tag. Gem didn't even flinch and tapped her card. I paid for mine next, then took my bag and joined Gem at the coffee counter.

"What would you like?" asked the androgynous person behind the counter.

"An Americano please."

"You got it."

They got to work on mine a minute later after sliding a mug of mocha over to Gem. When they finished mine, they asked, "Together or separate?"

"Together," said Gem.

"Separate," I said at the same time.

Gem gave me an indulgent smile and said again, "Together."

I blushed once more as the person serving us grinned. "Sure thing."

We took our drinks and our bag to an empty table by the front window, and I sat next to a proud monstera. Gem set her bag on the table next to her drink and fished out my book, then passed it over to me. I cradled it in both hands, examining the cover for a moment before setting it down.

"Thank you, so much," I said in earnest, offering a small smile that was returned immediately.

"My pleasure. So, you like horror? What did you think of the new movie adaptation?"

"I've only seen the first one, to be honest, but I loved it. They cast Pennywise so well. I want to see part two."

"You should, it's really good."

"You're a fan, too, then?"

"A bit," she admitted, smiling as she raised her mug to her lips for a sip. "I'm really glad you agreed to come out with me today."

"Me, too," I admitted with a slight flush.

"So, what do you do?" she asked, setting her mug down and folding her arms on the table.

"Nothing fancy, I just fold clothes and stock tables. You?"

Gem grinned and bit her lip. "Well, I actually sell spells, crystals, candles, herbs, basically anything you'd need to cast one of my spells. I run a little shop online."

"What?" I said, grinning. "So you're actually a witch, then?"

"Yeah, I suppose you could say I am. Are you going to make fun of me?"

"Not at all. I think that's really cool and innovative. Are you Wiccan, or pagan, or ...?"

"Pagan; I learned from my mother."

"She's a witch, too?"

"Yeah, it runs in our family."

I nodded, smiling. "That's really neat."

"Thank you. So you believe, then?"

I nodded again. "I've always thought Wicca was really interesting but I'm too afraid to try it."

"You should, it's a very welcoming community and you'll feel quite empowered, in my experience."

"Did you explore Wicca at all?"

"Just from an educational standpoint in my early teens, but I never practised."

"That's cool, I've only read about it a bit online." I shrugged lightly. "So, you craft spells for people?"

"Yeah, custom-made spells-to-order. If the person has a specific deity or deities they pray to, I like to include them in the spell, even if I don't, myself."

"That's so cool. I would have never thought of that."

"My mom gave me the idea, actually. She runs a shop out in Brampton doing much the same thing. I just took mine online."

"Awesome," I smiled.

We talked lightly from there about ourselves, nothing too deep, but I did my best to keep the conversation focused on her. I didn't like talking about myself all that much. When it was unavoidable, though, I told her of my record collection, and even of my little watercolour hobby that I had just picked up recently. I hadn't told anyone yet, not even my sister, and we talked all the time. I didn't want to get ahead of myself, as I was only just learning and not very good yet. Still, Gem was eager to see pictures of my work, so I showed her nonetheless, cringing internally the whole time. She might think my work was good, but I sure didn't.

Eventually, we finished our drinks and Gem had to get home to feed her cat in a little bit, so we reluctantly agreed it was time to head home. I was having a great time, which was super unusual for me. I didn't like spending much time with people, let alone strangers, though ... Gem didn't feel like a stranger, not really. Every revelation about her felt like a truth I already knew deep down, and I was unnerved to realise I was at ease around her. That thought made me tense up again each time.

"Did you drive?" she asked as we stepped out under the awning, rain striking the ground in front of our feet.

"No, I took the bus."

"Do you want a ride?"

The thought lifted my dampening spirits at the prospect of walking to the bus stop in the rain. "Yes, please."

"Come on," she said with a smile, beckoning me to follow.

We jogged out into the rain, paper bags clutched to our chests, and I followed her a little ways down the street to a silver Mazda with a hatchback. She unlocked the doors and we ducked inside as fast as we could. Rain pummelled the windshield and roof, creating a steady, soothing din. I swiped my damp full fringe off my forehead and pushed it to the side.

I gave Gem my address and talked her through the few turns to get there. We didn't talk much, I mostly watched the rain and the people passing on the sidewalks. Before I knew it, we were outside my apartment building. I clicked open my seatbelt and picked my bags off the floor.

"I had a really good time, thanks for coming with me today," Gem said, smiling with one hand on the wheel.

"Me, too." My heart was in my throat. There was an intensity to Gem's eyes that made my breath catch. "Thanks for the ride."

"Anytime."

Gem started to lean over the console, and panic shot through me. I wrenched the door open and stumbled out into the rain. Her eyebrows rose in surprise.

"I gotta' go," I stammered, hand on the door as rain pounded me. "Text me."

"I will," she grinned smoothly, cocking one eyebrow. "I definitely will."

I bit my lip and shut the door, then scurried for the safety of the building. Upstairs, I hung my purse and kicked off my boots, then set my bag of books on the coffee table. It was stained here and there with raindrops. From within I pulled my haul, laying them out side by side on the table. When I got to IT, there was a small slip of paper sticking out of the top. I didn't remember it being there when I picked it up the first time. Frowning, I flipped to that page and removed the slip of paper. It was no larger than my thumb and just as long, decorated down the length with a long, swirling drawing and the words "so mote it be" at the bottom. It was a spell, of some kind, I assumed. Those words were often used at the end of a prayer or spell to help will it to life, as I understood it. But what was this symbol? It was beautiful, whatever it meant. I tucked the paper back into my book and smiled to myself. It could only have been Gem who left that paper in the book for me to find. What did it mean? What was the significance of the action? All I knew was that it meant something big, but what, I had no clue.