While wondering if I could crawl completely under my desk and hide, it dawned on me my ass was probably sticking up in the air facing the door.

Great.

“Hey, there you are.” Sam’s and two other sets of footsteps crossed the threshold.

Even better.

Tate and Andrew were with her.

Too big to fit under the desk, I shuffled back and knelt, brushing my hair out of my face with the hand not holding peppercorns. “Hey.”

“You okay?” Andrew asked, looking both confused and amused.

“Oh, fine. I dropped something and was trying to find it.”

“In the dark?” Sam asked.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Did you find it?” Andrew asked.

“No, I’ll look later.” I attempted to straighten my sweatshirt over my running tights. I had to be a mess.

“What’s in your hand?” Tate asked.

“Nothing.” I shoved it behind my back like a toddler.

“Come on, share,” Andrew teased.

They were just peppercorns, not magic beans. “Peppercorns.”

“Random seasonings?” Andrew smirked and tilted his head. “Stealing from the dining hall?”

“Sam steals spoons,” I said to change the subject. I blushed and dumped the contents of my hand into the trash. “What have you three been doing?” I ignored Sam’s scowl.

Andrew’s attention stayed on the trashcan for a few beats before he replied, “We ran into Sam out front. She’s been telling us all about Mabon.”

“It’s fascinating,” Tate added, keeping his eyes on Sam.

She gazed back at him, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. “You should have come, Maddy. It was incredible — out in the woods and lit only with candles. I brought you some totally amazing apple crisp.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“Tate was just inviting us to their Halloween party next weekend. Doesn’t that sound wicked cool?” she asked, attempting and almost succeeding in sounding aloof.

“You’ll come, won’t you?” Andrew asked sincerely. “You really should. It’s a great party.”

Tate faced me, echoing the invitation while Sam stood behind him, making begging gestures.

“Sure, of course, we’d love it,” I replied. “Is there a theme?”

“Nah,” Tate said. “Come as your wildest fantasy, darkest fear, or yourself, in a costume. No rules, no expectations. Just be there before midnight.”

“Will you turn back into pumpkins when the clock strikes twelve?” I asked, only slightly kidding.

Andrew stared at me with a serious expression. “Yes.” He held his face still for a moment before his rare smile lit up his eyes and he laughed.

I couldn’t help but return his grin. “Okay. We’ll be there.”

“Great,” Tate and Andrew said at the same time.

As soon as the door clicked closed behind them, Sam did a little jig. “Holy whoopie pies! We’re going to the best Halloween party ever, and got a personal invitation from Tate!”

She grabbed my hands and jumped on my bed. I joined her and we squealed.

After a few minutes of bouncing, we collapsed into a heap on top of my comforter. Our chests heaving and out of breath, we giggled and kicked our legs.

“Do I want to know about the peppercorns?” she asked.

“No.”

“You weren’t doing magic, were you?”

“Of course not. Don’t be silly.”

“Because casting spells on Mabon is powerful stuff. I wouldn’t want you to get it wrong and end up summoning a legion of toads.”

I gulped. “Is that possible?”

“Anything is possible. Like us going to Tate Winthrop’s party!” She fluttered her feet in the air a few times to emphasize her excitement. ““We have to find you a costume tomorrow!”

“What the hell am I going to wear to this party?”

“You need something sexy to wear.”

“Sexy? Really?”

“I know, we’ll make an exception, but something with a lot of leg.”

“Spider?”

“Not legs, just your two. And nothing creepy. Although, Andrew does seem the type to like the dark side. Sexy zombie?”

I laughed. “Sexy zombie nurse? Do animals become zombies? I could be a sexy zombie black cat.” I had to stop because I was laughing at my own joke. “Or bunny. A dead bunny, but sexy.”

“All right, all right. Nothing too sexy or dead. We’ll think of something perfect.”

Beginning the next week, Andrew always sat next to me in seminar. His arm would brush mine when he took notes while I pretended to focus on whatever Dr. Philips said about the three-name author of the week. Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, or Louisa May Alcott… why did so many nineteenth century authors have three names?

“Want to grab a coffee?” Andrew asked as we walked out of the Alcott class. With his hands in his pockets, he seemed unsure of himself, unlike the typical, cool, aloof Andrew.

“I’m supposed to meet Sam,” I said, regretting rejecting him immediately. Wasn’t this what I wished for the other night?

“Oh.” He frowned.

“You could join us,” I offered.

Please let him join us. Andrew wanted to have coffee. With me. I could ditch Sam and explain later. Why hadn’t I thought before I opened my mouth? She’d understand. She would totally do the same and without a second thought if Tate asked her out.

Not that Andrew was asking me out. This wasn’t a date. It was coffee. I wanted to go and was willing to ditch my best friend. I closed my eyes and wished for her to understand before pulling out my phone to text her. However, my screen showed a new text alert from Sam.

*Got a costume idea. Heading into Boston. Sorry to bail on coffee. Catch you later.:)*

“Or not,” I said.

Andrew stopped walking and frowned, waiting for me to finish.

“No, not no. She just canceled.” I grinned, waving my phone in front of me.

His lips lifted in a lopsided smile. “Well, in that case, shall we?” He gestured toward the edge of campus.

“No campus cafe?”

With a shake of his head, he met my eyes. “I know someplace better.”

He led me through the wrought iron gates and past the ivy-covered stone walls, marking the edge of our little campus. After a few twists and turns through streets decorated for Halloween, we stood in front of a tiny house covered in black painted clapboards, diamond patterned panes of glass crisscrossing its small windows. I’d never seen it before. Even with the few stalks of dried corn and stack of white pumpkins made the place appear anything but festive. It looked a little creepy and probably a lot haunted.

“Here?” My voice squeaked.

“Sure. They make the best hot chocolate.” He opened the little door and ducked inside.

The door was that small.

I followed him into the dark space, bells chiming as the door closed behind me.

What’s with all of the bells in this town?

“People think they ward off bad spirits and bring good energy to the home or business,” Andrew answered.

“I asked that out loud?” My cheeks heated.

“Andrew!” A round woman with a frizzy halo of gray hair greeted him with a smile followed by an enveloping hug.

After extracting himself from her voluptuous curves, he introduced us. “Martha, this is my friend, Madison.”

Grinning at him, she extended her hand. “Nice to meet a friend of Andrew’s. Finally.”

I swore his cheeks pinked, but it was too dark to see clearly with the only light coming from the small windows and table lamps with black shades. My eyes slowly adjusted and I could see the walls were actually bookcases lined only with books with dark covers. In the nearest corner there was a barista working an espresso machine. Even the cups were black.

I worried if I dropped something or broke a cup, it would never be found again. “What is this place?”

He pressed his hand against my shoulder to steer me toward a table. “It’s had a lot of names over the years, but everyone calls it the Black Book, though I’m not sure why.”