I Learned Magic for All the Wrong Reasons

Mrs Han took Dante upstairs to check room 314, leaving Anika at the housing desk. She opened it with her master key and told him to wait in the doorway. The record said its owner had moved out, but she wanted to see the room before letting anyone else use it.

Shoes stood beside the bed. A game was paused on the monitor, and a towel hung over the chair. Whoever had left had expected to return before the noodles grew their own society.

”You’re taking the guest room opposite until Admissions sorts this out,” Mrs Han said, shutting the door. She assured him it was empty, exchanged the assigned key for the guest key and opened 315, a narrow room with a bed, desk, wardrobe, and a window overlooking the courtyard. Dante checked the bathroom first, grateful to find a normal shower and a toilet that made no demands.

A laundry card waited beside the kettle. He picked it up reverently while Mrs Han explained the fire alarm, quiet hours, and why nobody should enchant the washing machines.

She explained that somebody had shrunk everything on the second floor, then told him to keep his spells out of the bathroom when he asked whether she meant clothes.

The wardrobe mirror brightened beneath Mrs Han’s hand, displaying the weather and an advertisement for waterproof boots until she silenced it with a slap. Dante asked whether it could improve his reflection, but she told him to develop a personality like everybody else.

She left him with two clean towels and told him to report any movement in the other room. Dante set the towels on his bed and looked around the guest room. It wasn’t his old bedroom, and nobody here had known him at school. For the first time all day, staying felt like a choice he could enjoy. He didn’t notice a towel slide onto the floor before something bumped against his door.

A blonde woman stood outside holding enough bedding to conceal most of herself. A blue ribbon kept her hair away from her face, although a loose curl had escaped across one flushed cheek.

”Oh, could you help me with this, please? I thought I could manage it,” she said. Dante took the nearest pillow with his good hand. The rest of the bundle tried to follow it.

”I think that pillow was holding the others up, but that’s my fault,” she said, laughing while he stared at her light blue eyes and soft mouth. Her cream sweater and navy skirt outlined gentle curves that left him struggling to remember what he was supposed to do with the pillow.

”I’m Posey, by the way. I think we’re neighbors,” she said, shifting the bedding while he introduced himself and explained that the room was only temporary. She noticed his bandages and pulled the bundle closer. ”You’ve hurt your hand, haven’t you? Please don’t carry anything else; I can put this down.” He told her it was fine, stepped backward to put the pillow on his bed, and discovered his own towel beneath his heel.

Posey tried to catch the sliding bundle, but her foot tangled in the hanging sheet and her hand caught his sleeve. Dante caught her waist with his good hand as they fell onto the bed, keeping his bandaged fingers out to the side while the mattress bounced beneath them.

The soft warmth of her chest pressed against him through her sweater, and every useful thought left his head. One of her knees settled beside his hip while her blonde hair fell around his face, brushing his cheek as she caught her breath.

He had spent years imagining himself handling this sort of thing smoothly, yet an actual woman lying against him apparently required skills he had never downloaded. His heart hammered so hard that he worried she could feel it, especially when she lifted her face and their noses nearly touched.

”Oh, Dante, your hand. Please tell me I didn’t land on it,” she said, looking past him for his bandages before checking his face. Her concern made it harder to make a joke, although his mouth had never needed permission from the rest of him.

”My hand’s fine, and the landing was excellent,” he told her, then wished the mattress would swallow him before he started giving scores. Her eyes widened, and her laugh moved softly against his chest while his ears grew hot.

”I’m glad you caught me, but I meant to say hello first,” she said, smiling down at him before her cheeks turned pink. ”Properly, I mean, with both of us standing up.” He wanted to tell her she could try again whenever she liked, but she was close enough to see him staring at her mouth, which seemed like plenty of information already.

She pushed herself up slowly, keeping her hand on his shoulder while he asked whether she had hurt her knee. He kept his good hand at her waist until she had her balance, feeling the warm curve beneath her sweater before remembering that catching someone wasn’t a lifetime appointment.

”Sorry, I was making sure you wouldn’t fall again,” he said as he let go, and she thanked him without making him feel stupid. That small kindness somehow left him more embarrassed than having her lying on top of him, and he made room beside him instead of trying another line. 𝑓𝑟ℯℴ𝓂

Posey sat beside him while he checked his fingers. Her thigh rested against his for a moment before she shifted, and he stared at the wardrobe until he could trust himself to speak.

”I turned eighteen last month, so Mom thought I should choose my own bedding,” she said, gathering sheets. ”I might have been a little too confident, because I bought three fitted sheets and I still don’t know what they’re fitted to.”

”My mom’s bringing mine. Adulthood is being assessed individually.” ”Um, I could help with your cover later, if you’d like some company,” she offered, smoothing a folded sheet. ”We should be able to work it out together, and you can tell me if I’m doing it wrong.” Dante accepted, keeping the pillow across his lap.

They carried the bedding into her room, where he left the pillow on her bed beside notebooks and a photograph of two women beside a bakery counter.

She explained that her mother and aunt had asked whether she had eaten six times, then suggested dinner would give both their mothers something reassuring to hear. Dante almost asked who else was coming, because dinner with a pretty girl still sounded like an invitation intended for somebody behind him.

At sixteen, he had told a girl at school that he liked her, and she had said yes when he asked her to lunch. He had spent the evening deciding what to say, then arrived the next day to find her friends waiting to hear it too. She laughed before he finished saying hello, and the rest joined in when she explained that he had actually believed her.

For the rest of that school year, he had eaten in a bathroom stall, balancing his lunch on his knees and pretending he preferred the quiet. He still remembered being more embarrassed about believing her than about anything they had called him.

Posey noticed him looking toward the hallway and followed his glance. ”We could bring the food back here, if the common room’s too busy. I’d like to hear more about you, but you don’t have to tell me anything awkward,” she said, leaving him with no idea how to explain that being invited was the awkward part.

He told her downstairs was fine and asked what she liked in her sandwiches. It wasn’t a date just because he wanted it to be, but he could eat with her without deciding in advance that she would regret asking. His mother arrived with his bag before they left, noticing Posey close enough to brush his sleeve while he explained their dinner plans.

”Wear a condom,” she said, walking toward the elevator as though she had reminded him to take an umbrella, while Posey went red from her cheeks to the tips of her ears.

”MOM!” Dante shouted after her, which brought three people out of the common room and gave his mother time to remind him that the campus shop probably sold them.

Posey waited until the elevator doors closed, then peeked up at him with her cheeks still pink. ”I did need to go to the shop, actually. You could come with me, if you wanted,” she said, making him reconsider everything he had assumed about her innocence.

Over dinner, Posey asked whether he wanted to meet for breakfast before Professor Bell’s class on basic spells. ”I’d like that, if you would. It would be nice to have someone to walk with,” she added, then invited him to Miss Vale’s yoga and Pilates club. Dante agreed before finding out what Pilates involved, then caught himself planning tomorrow with someone who actually wanted him there. He had expected to spend the night alone with his phone, trying to work up the nerve to speak to anybody.

Anika found them returning upstairs. Her emerald sweater fitted closely above dark jeans, with her copper hair swept over one shoulder. She looked between them beside his door.

”You’ve settled in quickly,” Anika said, and Posey explained that he had helped with her bed. Dante clarified that she meant bedding, wishing he had kept his mouth shut as Anika inspected his clothes. Anika stepped close enough to take a white thread off his shoulder. Her fingers lingered against his collar before she showed him the evidence.

”You missed a bit,” Anika said, holding up the thread while he tried to decide whether she was amused or annoyed. Posey looked past her toward 314. ”Is Jett moving out? I thought he was coming back to help with my last box, but maybe I misunderstood.”

Anika asked when Jett had made that promise. Posey said it was yesterday, before he left for an appointment about his scholarship. Dante remembered the shoes waiting beside the bed in 314 and understood why the empty-room record was wrong. Jett had expected to come back. Anika took out her phone. ”That’s my brother’s room, and nobody told me he was leaving.”