Chapter Seventeen

I’d thought I was being stared at before, but the cafeteria taught me what real stares felt like. Right after noon, the rows of round tables were packed. I hunched down, trying to ignore the crowds as I grabbed a tray from the food line. Technically, most of the attention was for my undead entourage, but the curious gazes inevitably found me in the middle of the protection detail. After so many years trying to be invisible and unremarkable, my compass for self-preservation spun in wild circles. I had to remind myself that guarded was the new safe. And you’d better get used to it.

I’d hoped Wynn would eat lunch with me in solidarity, but he kept his place slightly in front of the Servants. I grabbed pizza, French fries, a chocolate pudding cup, and a non-diet soda. Until the warlock was caught, I wasn’t eating anything healthy.

After paying, I stood looking for an empty spot in the sea of tables.

“Here, Mistress.” One of the Servants gestured to the back of the room.

A big group of students was just standing up from the table with their empty trays. One of the Servants hustled to snipe the spot before anyone else could move in. All I wanted was to sit down. Possibly under the table?

I took the seat and dug into my food, which was way more delicious than expected. The pizza had big blobs of fresh mozzarella and I zoned out as I tried to find the perfect bite with an ideal cheese to sauce and basil ratio.

When a chair creaked on the other side of the table, I jumped in my seat.

Seth?

He looked delicious in chef whites. They fit snug to his chest, but not too snug. Just perfect. It wasn’t a man in uniform thing so much as a Seth in uniform thing. He wore his dark hair pushed back, with a pencil stuck behind his ear. It looked so mouthwatering, I dabbed a napkin to my chin just in case.

He had a slice of pizza, a soda, and a white bakery box of something he must’ve just baked. My curiosity won out over the knee-shaking fear that I’d make a fool of myself talking to him.

“What did you make?” I asked, impressed when my voice came out even instead of dolphin-pitched.

“Croissant,” Seth said with the perfect French accent.

Wynn snorted.

Not helping. I shot him a glare before refocusing on Seth.

I wracked my brain for the classes he’d be taking in second year. “Did you make them in Breads and Rolls?”

“Bakeshop Production.” Seth held out the box. “Want one?”

“Yes!” The word blurted out too loud. I rubbed my lips with the back of my hand. “I mean, yes.”

“Knock yourself out.” Seth slid the box across the table. Taking a deep, buttery breath, I plucked out a croissant.

The rich layers melted on my tongue.

Perfection.

“This is so good.” My toes happily tapped the floor as I took a second bite. “So good.” Maybe the butter was saturating my brain, but I couldn’t help gushing. “How’d you get the layers so perfect?”

The corner of Seth’s lip tilted up, not smug but maybe gratified? I’d keep the adoration coming if this was how he baked. He deserved the praise.

“Practice,” he said.

I’d practiced plenty of croissants and they didn’t come out of the oven like this. Either Seth was holding out on me, or he was just that good. I gobbled the entire piece and then licked my fingers, thankful the bandages left my fingertips bare.

“What happened to the hands?”

“The attack.” I assumed he knew about it since everyone else did. “I was working front of the house at the bakery. All the cases shattered and I ended up with a couple handfuls of glass.” Knees too, but my leggings had cushioned the worst or I wouldn’t be walking around.

“Ouch.” He flinched. “When you clear to start baking again?”

I bit back a smile. Seth understood that being out of the kitchen was the worst part of this mess. “I’m hoping the bandages can come off tomorrow.” My happiness faded fast, though. “They’d better come off tomorrow. I owe Oates a make-up cake or she’s probably failing me.”

“Need help?”

My lips parted and all I could do was blink at him. Seth wanted to help me?

Me?

I could make that cake in my sleep, but if he was volunteering… How else would I ever get to spend time with him? “You’d help me?”

“Sure. Oates gave me so much shit in first year. But I do have ulterior motives.” He leaned over the table, letting loose a secret little smile that made the air evacuate my lungs. “I’ve always wanted to see inside Agatha’s kitchen.”

I could so make that happen. “I’d love the help. Could you make it tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah. Here.” He slid over his unlocked phone. “Give me your number.”

I fumbled for a sec, figuring out his system. Then my thumbs hit the wrong buttons a few times as I typed in my digits. Is this really happening? A baking date with Seth?

Finished, I slid the phone back. After he did some typing of his own, my phone vibrated in my backpack. I have Seth’s number. Seth’s real actual phone number. I wanted to bounce up and down.

“Text me.” He grabbed his tray even though his food was only half eaten.

“I’ll—See you!” I called out behind him.

He’d left his box of croissants and I hugged them to my chest as soon as he was out the door. A baking date and a box of my dream guy’s home-baked goodies. I wouldn’t have cared if the warlock marched in and sat down next to me at this point. I pushed aside the tray of pizza and grabbed for a second croissant.

Blair found me sighing over croissant number three.

“Switching to an all-carb diet?” She asked as she pulled out a chair.

“You should too.” I slid the box over to her. There were enough croissants left that I was willing to share.

“Dang.” She touched her lips after the first bite. “Why is this the best croissant I’ve ever had?”

“Because Seth made it.”

“What? You’re working fast, lady.” Blair gave a wicked smile. “Good job.”

“He’s helping me with a make-up bake.” I wasn’t reading much more into it, as much as I wanted to. If I expected too much, I’d be disappointed.

“If you’re making dates, you must not have had any trouble.”

I glanced over my shoulder. Blair had added five Servants to the entourage. Hers were dressed in sweats instead of full business suits, so now we looked like a basketball team and their trainers on the way to a game. “I don’t think anyone would dare.”

“True.” Blair cracked open a yogurt and started to stir.

“Any news from the Syndicate?” I didn’t mind being last to know what was up, but I did need to know eventually.

“Agatha’s been tearing up the town but all they can find are traces of old castings.”

“Well, I have a map. I at least want to do some scrying.” I wasn’t dumb enough to run after a warlock myself, but I could at least pass the info along to Agatha if I found anything.

“Tonight?” Blair asked. “I was going to invite Gabi over anyway. We can make it a sleepover. Ouija board it, even.”

“Ouija board? Can’t you talk to spirits?” Or was I misunderstanding necromancy?

She rolled her eyes. “Humor me, Anise.”

“Okay.” It just seemed like the equivalent of me using an Easy Bake Oven.

She rubbed her hands together. “I’ll give you free reign of our kitchen if you want to make snacks.”

“I’ll bake something.” Nutella brownies, maybe? Those seemed like good sleepover food. “Do we have chips?”

“Not yet. Let’s hit groceries after Comp.”

If I had to hide out, hiding out with friends was the best way to survive. And with snacks.

Blair sat with me until she ran out of food. When she headed back for a second slice of pizza—two Servants in tow—I snuck my phone out of my backpack.

Seth had sent me his own contact card. Seth Young.

Maybe the karma cupcakes really had kicked in because the Wheel of Fortune was finally turning in my favor.