His eyes never left mine as he spoke. I felt like I was being studied and categorized, but wasn’t sure if the judgment was positive or more “stupid college girls and witchcraft”. He was impossible to read.

While Andrew and I stared at each other, Sam cleared her throat. “What are you doing tonight, Andrew?”

“Not really sure. I was headed upstairs when I smelled the smoke. To see a friend.”

Girl friend or guy friend, I wondered.

“You know Tate? The RA on the third floor?” he asked.

Sam and I nodded. Everyone knew Tate Winthrop. Even if he weren’t a gazillionth generation Winthrop, everyone would still know him. There weren’t many six-foot-three white guys with dreadlocks down their back on our little college campus. Sam’s had a crush on Tate since the beginning of last year. He was a pretty big reason why we still lived in a double room as juniors. I couldn’t imagine Tate and Andrew being friends. Andrew seemed too quiet, and a little uptight.

“You and Tate should come to the party on Elm Court tonight.” A glimmer of a plan twinkled in her eyes. “Unless RAs aren’t allowed to go to off campus parties.”

“We can. If everyone there is legal, it’s not a problem.” He smiled at Sam. “Are you legal?” he asked me.

“She is. We both are.” Sam was lying. My birthday wasn’t until late November; hers was in January.

It would be easy for him to bust us by asking for IDs, but he didn’t.

“Okay, maybe I’ll see you there. No more smudging, ladies.” He didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, we stood there awkwardly. At least I felt awkward. Sam looked delighted at her newfound connection to Tate.

Torn between wanting him to get out of my room and throwing him down on my bed, I once again became mute. Charming.

“Okay,” I managed to say finally. Parrots had more interesting contributions to conversations. “I’ll be in a corner with a Solo cup.”

“Bring Tate!” Sam called out as the door shut behind him.

Yep. Awkward.

Had Andrew bothered to show up at the party, he would have found me in a corner with a bottle of cider. I doubt he would have recognized me without the red cup.

Sam covered up her disappointment about Tate’s no-show by chatting up every guy there who wasn’t mashing his body or lips against a girl. Or guy. An endless parade of toads marched over to my corner with her encouragement. Not actual toads. Or frogs. Although one of them had buggy eyes and smelled like a pond, so he might have been a real toad in disguise. My grandmother’s words of dating wisdom came to mind.

“You have to kiss a lot of toads to find your Prince Charming.”

This from a woman who met and married a boy at seventeen. How many toads could she have kissed in western Massachusetts? Her town didn’t even have a stop sign.

Most of the toad-guys had names beginning with E’s: Ethan, Eli and Ev were followed by Eddie and Edgar, who didn’t appreciate being asked if he was named for Poe.

Over loud music, Poe sounds a lot like poo. Apparently.

No Prince Charming tonight.

I finished my cider and looked for Sam. I located her in the kitchen talking to a short, skinny guy, who was enthusiastically telling her all about his ninja costume for Halloween.

“I’m working on the suction cups for the hands and feet.”

“Suction cups?” Sam faked interest.

“For climbing buildings.” He didn’t say ‘duh’, but it was implied.

“Oh, right! Look, it’s Madison!” She hugged me and whispered, “Help me.”

By the time we broke apart, Ninja Boy had moved on to sharing his ninja plans with the girl to his left.

“Let’s go,” I said.

“They might still show.”

“It’s almost one o’clock. They’re not coming. And neither is Prince Charming.”

“Were you expecting him tonight? Halloween is a couple weeks away. It’s too early for men in tights.”

I laughed. “Not by much. A few more weeks and this town will be covered with them.”

She shuddered. “I wish you were joking.”

New Orleans had Mardi Gras; Salem had Halloween — a month-long party downtown with every sexy version of a normal costume possible. Last year we saw nine women dressed as the sexy version of the Supreme Court. In hot pants.

“Me too,” I agreed.

“We need to start planning our costumes.” She tugged me out of the kitchen and down the narrow hall where the parade of toads were lined up with their beers waiting for the bathroom. At least they were housebroken.

Sam continued plotting out her costume as we walked home. The night had turned cold and I wished I had a coat instead of a sweater.

“Shouldn’t you be picking our robes for a coven gathering in the woods or something? I don’t think Wiccans approve of sexy cat costumes.”

“I’m multi-denominational when it comes to Halloween.”

“No candy at coven gatherings?”

She chuckled, knowing she’d been busted. “And zero cute guys.”

“No guy witches?”

“There are some, but most of them are ancient and smell of patchouli.”

We both stuck out our tongues.

“Maybe instead of Prince Charming, we’ll meet a handsome monster, wicked cool Phantom of the Opera, or smoking hot Beast.” She sighed.

“Stalkers and kidnappers? Are you sure you didn’t watch princess movies?” I asked.

“You have no romance. Zero. You’re too young to be so cynical. And too pretty.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Dismissing every compliment you’re given. You’re gorgeous. Like a totally hot Audrey Hepburn.”

“Meaning flat chested and pointy?"

“No, petite. With the way he couldn’t take his eyes off you earlier, I think Andrew approved.”

It was my turn to sigh. “I doubt it. He didn’t even show at the party.”

“He and Tate probably had other plans. Like playing D&D. Or Magic.” She giggled and sighed. “Can you imagine?”

I could, and the thought of gorgeous guys being into role playing games was both ridiculous and kind of hot, depending on the role play.

“You don’t think they have girlfriends, do you? I’ve never seen Tate with anyone, but that doesn’t really mean anything.” Her uncertainty was unfamiliar.

“That would suck if they did.”

“Tate’s totally dreamy. He’s like a modern day philosopher. Did you know he rides a skateboard?”

“Nothing says wicked smart philosopher like an old school long board.” I giggled. “You have it bad.”

She sighed again and nodded. “I don’t know why, but it’s so bad it’s good. We might need to crash his Halloween party this year and charm him.”

“We?”

“Trust me, this is our year, Maddy. I can feel it in my bones.” She tapped her head.

I looked up and found a star in the clear sky and made a wish.

Please let Andrew be single.

And not be into Dungeons & Dragons.

Thank you.

Andrew sat across from me at seminar the following week. Hamilton took his old seat at the far end of the table, out of range for whispered or mumbled slurs. Unfortunately, that didn’t keep him from making asshat comments for the whole group to hear. Andrew didn’t contribute to the discussion of the witch trials, and after last week’s outburst, I kept my comments to a minimum.

My only interaction with Andrew during class was when he loaned me a pen after I couldn’t find one in my bag.

When class ended, I found myself standing next to Hamilton.

“This class blows,” he said.

Not thinking before speaking, I asked, “Why are you even in this class?”

Hamilton’s gaze landed on my boobs, which were thankfully protected beneath at least three layers of clothing. “Duh. Wicked easy A, like that Hester chick. Dude, it’s about New England — I’m from here. And it’s in English. No brainer.”

My jaw should have hit the floor with how fast and low it dropped open. Hamilton’s eyes held lust as he stared at my open mouth.