Year of the Witch

Year of the Witch by Charla Layne Page A

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Authors: Charla Layne
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in return but said nothing.  I could see that he was fighting his feelings or instincts or whatever by controlling his reaction to me. 
                “I left you a sort of belated birthday gift in your room,” Sean said as we stepped inside the house.  “I wanted you to know I didn’t forget.  I just knew you weren’t ready before.  I hope you like it.”  He smiled at me and my heart fluttered for a second.
    Chapter Twenty-Two
                I raced up the stairs, anxious to see what the gift was.  A bracelet?  A necklace?  Naw, too romantic probably.  Although that would be fine by me now.  Maybe a new journal or a book.  He knew I was always reading or writing.  I opened the door and shut it behind me.  This was a private moment.  My first real birthday gift from a boy that I knew liked me, maybe more.  I scanned the room for a gift-wrapped box.  Nothing.  Maybe a small gift bag.  No.  I leaned against the bed and looked under.  Perhaps there had been a draft and the gift had fallen to the floor.  Nope, nothing.
                I sunk onto my bed, slightly disappointed.  I leaned back against the pillows, somewhat confused.  I was missing it, whatever it was.  Just then I heard a muffled mew from behind the pillows I was leaning against.  I sat up, startled, and waited.  A tiny, furry solid black kitten with large green eyes walked out.  She stretched, yawned, then sat down and looked at me.  I laughed out loud.  She meowed at me then walked up onto my chest, purring and waiting for me to pet her.
                “Well, she seems to like you alright.”  I heard Sean’s voice from the doorway.  He opened the door a crack.  “Sorry, couldn’t help it.  I wanted to see what you thought.  I did a little research a learned that every good witch needs a familiar.”
                “Way to go with the stereotypical black cat for the witch.  Cute touch.  But thanks so much, Sean.  She is adorable.”
                “Actually, I wasn’t shooting for stereotypical—she was just the last kitten at the shelter that hadn’t been adopted yet.  I felt sorry for her.  Wish I could say the same about how she felt about me.”  Sean held out his hands and arms.  Tiny claw marks, scratches, and bites covered them.  He chuckled, “Yeah, it’s true, I guess.  Cats and dogs are not friends, after all.”
                “Oh, you poor baby!”  I shrieked.
                “Ah, I’ll be okay,”  said Sean, slightly amused.
                “Not you, you big dufus!”  I snatched up the little ball of fur.  “This poor little one.  She must have been so confused and frightened.  It’s okay now, little one.  I’ve got you, B.B.”
                “B.B.?” Sean asked.  “What’s that stand for?  I actually wasn’t thinking of something so nice, myself.”
                “Sean, shame on you.  I’m sure you confused her with your scent.”  I laughed as she hissed at him now.  “But I do appreciate the trouble you went to for me.  It’s sweet. And B.B. is for Black Beauty.”
                “Huh, I guess that will work.”  Sean stepped towards the door to leave the room.  “I’m just glad that you like her.”  He placed his hand on the doorknob.
                I set the kitten on the bed and, despite her mewing protests, walked over to Sean.  I pushed the door shut, which seemed to both confuse and startle him.
                “Thank you, seriously,” I said, and wrapped my arms around him once again.  This was starting to become a habit.  I tilted my head back and looked up at him.  That was all the encouragement he needed.  This time when he kissed me, I kissed him back.  For a few moments I felt that we were both floating until my ringing cell phone snapped me back into awareness.  I reached for it, hit the green

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