Chapter 7: Going Out

The bar was loud and packed, exactly the way I wanted it. With so many bodies pressed into one space, no one would bat an eye at my nervous sweat, or the way I tried to always be close to Imogen.

We had come in a group of five. The other three witches were around our age as well, and they had briefly introduced themselves as Rosalind, Portia, and Juliet. Their familiars--a ferret, a bluebird, and a vulture, respectively--waited for us outside the bar with Aurelia in a strange pack.

We, the witches, were stuffed into a booth meant to sit four instead of five. The others were across from us, and Imogen--to my delight--sat beside me. Drinks and appetizers littered the table; easy chatter bounced around the group.

"So, Ophelia," Juliet leaned over her drink, half-shouting to be heard through the music. "You said you've lived in the area for a while?"

"Yeah, a couple years at least." I took a nervous sip of my beer. The conversation hadn't been entirely about me, but every moment we spent discussing my history brought me closer to broaching the subject of my mother.

Juliet might have noticed my hesitancy, and she changed the subject. "What do you think of the glade?"

"It's amazing," I said, truthfully. "It's like nothing I've ever seen before." That felt dumb. "Obviously, I mean-like nothing I've ever dreamed of or read about-"

But Juliet was laughing with me. "I get you. Even growing up with it there are days when I can't stop staring."

Juliet had an easy social energy to her, like the sort of person you always wanted to know better. She was pretty too, but a little fancier than I usually went for. My type was more tall, butch girls who were named Imogen.

"Do you guys always come here?" I gestured to the bar.

Portia answered me. "When we can. It's our favorite. Rosy used to date the bouncer and they're still friends."

"Speaking of," Rosalind stood and stretched. "I'm gonna go over and say hi, anyone want anything?"

"I'll come with!" Portia was up too, and the two women slipped away through the club.

Juliet made a knowing face and took a long sip from her drink.

"She's after him again?" Imogen said, watching the witches disappear into the crowd.

Juliet scoffed. "Again? She never stopped."

I looked between them and raised an eyebrow. Juliet leaned towards me conspiratorially. "Portia's been trying to get with Matt for AGES."

"The bouncer?" I asked.

"Mmhmm." Imogen and Juliet both nodded.

A thought occurred to me. "Are relationships outside of the" --I made an ambiguous gesture to the group-- "allowed?"

Imogen caught my meaning before Juliet did. "Not technically," she said. "The older witches want to reduce our contact with the outside world. But so long as it's not that serious, they tend to look the other way."

"And Portia isn't looking for something serious," Juliet wiggled her eyebrows at me. "She just wants that di--"

Imogen coughed on her drink. Juliet laughed at her. I found myself grinning and laughing with her. It felt good to be out with other women my age. I hadn't been a part of a group like this in a long time.

"I mean I get it," Juliet continued. "He's hot."

"I wouldn't know." I slipped the confession in, hopeful Imogen would notice.

Juliet, bless her, caught on quickly. "Not into guys? You're good. Are women more your speed or you happy rocking it by yourself?"

"Women, definitely." I tried not to look at Imogen. "And yourself?"

"At the moment," Juliet had caught the eye of someone else in the club. "I'm feeling that blonde guy by the bar. Y'all good by yourselves?"

"Go." Imogen waved a hand.

"Get some." I added.

Juliet disappeared, and suddenly I was alone with the most attractive woman I'd ever met.

Imogen slid over a bit so we could face one another. I noticed that she didn't go all the way around the booth, but rather kept herself in arm's reach.

"Thanks for coming out tonight," she said, offering me another shy smile.

God, she was somehow intimidating and adorable.

"Thanks for inviting me." I meant it. Being welcomed by the Magnolia family was cool, but being taken out for drinks with the women my age--that made me feel right at home.

"And... thanks. For earlier too."

I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Imogen looked down into her drink. "With my mom. She can be... critical, at times. I don't ever stand up to her."

I thought for a second. "Oh, you mean about the Magnolia magic being cool and all?"

Imogen nodded.

"Please," I waved a hand. "You saved me from a pack of giant rats. Standing up for you is easy."

"That doesn't mean it didn't matter to me," she said earnestly.

"Well, I meant what I said--your magic was impressive and super cool and quite hot." I slipped the compliment in, the warm buzz of alcohol making me brave.

Imogen missed it. "Yeah. Thanks. Sorry my mom's not... the easiest to be around."

"I know a thing or two about harsh mothers." I took a long drink. Imogen didn't ask for clarification. I loved her all the more for it.

A guy slid into the booth with us. He had a manicured, unpleasantly-arrogant look to him. I didn't like the way he was staring at Imogen.

"Hey." He said, "looks like the party left. Mind if I help you get it going again?"

He slid an arm around Imogen. I disliked him immensely for that.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Imogen asked.

She didn't know him? I looked at the guy with newfound disdain.

"The best night of your life. Can we ditch your friend?" He nodded to me.

Imogen tensed, clearly uncomfortable and spooked. "Hey," I said, glaring at the guy. "Lay off, she doesn't want you near her."

He gave me a disgusting look. "You've got nice tits, short-stuff, but I'm here for your friend."

I fought the urge to wrap my arms around my chest. Instead, I punched him in the face.