To hell with everything that had happened!
That was the first thought that crossed Jemi's mind when she woke up on Sunday morning. No matter what had gone down at Mrs. Wassel's house the night before, one thing was certain—today was her date with Oliver.
And if she were being honest, that date was the only thing keeping her grounded after last night. It was the reason she could still get through the day without falling apart. Victor had even let her talk about Oliver nonstop all morning.
But over the past few hours, Victor had grown restless again—slipping back into his default mode as an overprotective best friend. Jemi had tried to stay patient, but now her emotions were boiling over.
"Oh my God! Can you please stop acting like that?!" Jemi snapped as Victor kept pacing in and out of her room, throwing sharp looks her way while she put on her makeup.
"Do you really have to wear that?" Victor pointed at the lipstick in her hand.
Jemi glanced at it, then shot him an annoyed look. "Don't I always wear this? What's the problem?"
Victor let out a long breath and left the room without a word. Weird. Jemi finally relaxed, shaking her head slightly.
"No wonder he's still single," she muttered. "He's so annoying."
"Don't put it on too thick! You look like a clown." Victor again. This time he leaned against the doorframe.
Jemi didn't answer. She closed her eyes, clenched her fists, then let out a harsh breath. She grabbed a cotton pad and makeup remover, poured it carelessly, and angrily wiped off every bit of makeup she'd carefully done just for Oliver. Maybe then Victor would finally stop bothering her.
Half an hour before the game.
Jemi rushed into Victor's car. The husky-witch had forced his way into tagging along—or else he'd report their break-in at Mrs. Wassel's house to her parents. And Jemi was absolutely sure he'd planned that threat from the moment she agreed to sneak in.
"You wiped off all your makeup?" Victor asked casually, as if he hadn't been the cause.
Jemi turned sharply, glaring at him. "Satisfied?!"
Victor laughed. No comments, no apologies. He just made sure Jemi's seatbelt was fastened, then eased the car forward. Jemi clenched her jaw tighter—especially when Victor started humming to himself, despite the radio being off.
Not wanting to let him get to her any more than he already had, Jemi turned to look out the window. The neighborhood looked even emptier now—some houses already had For Sale signs up. Whether people were afraid of witches roaming around… or of witch hunters who acted more like demons than humans, she couldn't tell.
"Looks like this neighborhood is going to become a place everyone's afraid of," Jemi muttered.
Victor glanced at her briefly, then focused back on the road. "That's actually a good thing. If all the humans leave, I can convince Dad to move the werewolf territory here. You and your family would be safer."
Jemi clicked her tongue. "You say that like we're the only witches in this city. You haven't forgotten who you are, have you?"
A soft laugh escaped Victor. "How could I forget? At least I can protect myself if I run into hunters. But when I think about you and your parents facing them…" He paused. "I won't let that happen. I won't let you fight them."
Jemi turned to him, her expression softening. "So that's why you're always staying at our place?"
Victor gave a faint nod, his fingers tapping restlessly on the steering wheel.
"Mainly because I don't want to lose my identity as a witch. And because I already see your parents as my own. I want to protect them.
Besides, my parents are rarely home—most of their time is spent working or at the werewolf base in the forest. And lastly…" He smirked. "I'm addicted to your mom's cooking."
Jemi didn't interrupt. She listened, truly listened. But something felt missing.
"And me?" she asked quietly. "Out of all that, there's nothing about me at all? Am I not important to you? Oh… okay. I get it now. Turns out you've hated me all this time, huh?"
Instead of answering, Victor flicked her forehead lightly with his finger.
"Take that back, Jemimah Brown. I'd die for you."
Jemi narrowed her eyes, disbelief written all over her face. "You'd really die for me?"
"You don't believe me?"
"Of course not!" Jemi exclaimed. "What, should I go challenge the witch hunters, tell them we're witches, and see if you'd still say that?"
"Are you stupid?" Victor flicked her forehead again.
Jemi scrunched her face and pinched his arm. "Do you even know what 'joking' means? I'd never do something that reckless, Husky!"
That irritating, mocking grin—one Jemi absolutely hated—returned to Victor's face. She immediately understood what it meant.
"Well, the stupidest thing I've ever done stops at breaking into Mrs. Wassel's house," Jemi said quickly, as if issuing a formal clarification.
Of course, that only made Victor laugh in satisfaction. His bait had worked. And damn it—Jemi had no room to argue. That night had been her biggest mistake. A night that slowly began changing her life, without her even realizing it.
Five minutes before the game, they arrived at the academy parking lot. Jemi spotted Oliver's car in its usual spot—as if it were permanently parked there. Her heart started racing just at the sight of the black Ford. She stepped out of the car without taking her eyes off it.
"Fix your expression, Jemi. You look like an idiot," Victor said dryly, leaning against the hood beside her.
Jemi closed her eyes for a moment, forcing herself not to take the bait. "Hey, Vic… I think I've found one major strength of yours."
Victor tilted his head, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Being annoying. It's your greatest talent!" Jemi shouted, then bolted.
Victor snorted and chased after her, but before they could reach the basketball court, they stopped short. The bleacher doors swung open, and dozens of spectators poured out with disappointed faces. Some grumbled angrily, others looked resigned.
Among the crowd, Jemi recognized her classmate, Ben. She hurried over. "What happened? It hasn't started yet, has it?"
"The game's canceled," Ben replied. "The other team's vehicle got into an accident. Nothing serious, but they can't play. Looks like there'll be a rematch next week. I'm heading out."
"An accident, huh," Victor murmured, now standing beside Jemi. "So we can go home? Let's go."
He grabbed Jemi's hand, ready to pull her back toward the parking lot—but she stopped him.
"Stop it, Vic!" Jemi snapped. "I have a date with Oliver, remember?"
"But the game's canceled."
"You promised you wouldn't ruin today!" Jemi shot back. "If you want to leave, go ahead! I'm still meeting Oliver. That's why I came here!"
Victor stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Jemi held her ground, her face hardened. She tried to pull her hand free—until Victor finally loosened his grip.
Without a word, he turned and walked away.
Jemi didn't care. To her, Victor was still being infuriating. She didn't even look back twice before turning toward the court entrance. But just before stepping inside, she glanced over her shoulder.
"He's gone… right?" she murmured.
"Jemi?"
She turned.
Oliver stood there, a brown backpack slung over his shoulder.
"Are you okay?" Jemi asked. "I heard the game was canceled."
Oliver smiled as he stepped closer. "I'm fine. Honestly, I'm glad—I get to spend more time with you."
Oh, God. Already—with that smile and those dimples.
"So… should we go straight to Franky Jhones?" Jemi asked after regaining control of herself.
Oliver nodded and gestured for her to walk beside him. "I'm treating you until you're full," he whispered.
Jemi's chest fluttered wildly. She took deep breaths again and again, but couldn't slow them down. Oliver, who'd been watching her from the start, chuckled softly and gave her shoulder a gentle pat.
"Are you okay, Jemi?"
"I'm fine!"
She clearly wasn't. Her voice jumped an octave.
Oliver laughed, then opened his car door for her. "After you, Jemi."
Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus.You've got this.
Inside Franky Jhones, Oliver chose a table at the very end—one with minimal foot traffic. He asked Jemi to sit and wait while he went to stand in line at the counter.
Such a gentleman.
And once again, Jemi's heart raced. Thankfully, she managed to calm herself by the time Oliver returned.
"Do you come here often?" Jemi asked, trying to start a conversation.
Oliver smiled faintly. "Not really. I don't go out to eat much. I don't know many places, so I picked somewhere popular to go with you. I figured there must be a reason it's so well-liked, right?"
Mesmerized by Oliver's charm, Jemi forgot to blink for a few seconds.
"Yeah… there must be a reason you're very popular."
"Sorry?" Oliver asked.
"Huh? What?" Jemi blinked, confused at her own lack of self-control.
Oliver smiled to himself, then looked at her intently. "I thought you were dating Victor."
Oh. My. Lord.
Jemi let out a long breath. That assumption—again.
"Of course not!" she laughed lightly. "Victor's been my best friend since we were kids. We grew up together, and he stays over a lot—well, our parents are close too."
Oliver leaned back, visibly relieved. "Thank God. That means I still have a chance."
Excuse me, Oliver?
"A chance?" Jemi echoed.
Oliver cleared his throat and looked down briefly. Jemi waited, her chest tight. She wanted to scream—but couldn't. She understood exactly what he meant.
But could it really be what she thought?
"Jemi," Oliver said softly, his gaze deep and unwavering. "May I get closer to you?"