BooksBarbecue
Back Any Way the Wind Blows
Chapters (100)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. EPILOGUE
  96. AGATHA
  97. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  98. Also by Rainbow Rowell
  99. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  100. Newsletter Sign-up

He pushes his jeans down and kicks them away, climbing into the bed beside me. I bring the sheet back up over him, and he scoots closer, shifting a bit to get his wings settled behind him. He’s warm, and he smells like a pub. Like cider and fish and a little like pizza.

I slide an arm around his waist. “Did you make up with Bunce? Has she moved in?”

He shrugs. He’s still shifting and wriggling closer. “I apologized like you said I should.”

“And?”

“And she said we don’t need magic to be friends.”

“Wise girl.”

Simon brings a knee up over my thigh. “She said she only has two and a half friends, and she can’t afford to lose any.”

“Am I the half, or is Agatha?”

“You’re both three-fourths.”

“Fucking Bunce.”

Simon touches my chin. “You smell good.”

“Soap,” I say.

“Where’d you go tonight?”

“Hunting.”

“Before that.”

I shudder, and he moves even closer, nose to nose, bringing a wing around us.

“Do you need a blanket?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Just stay close.”

“Where’d you go, Baz?”

“I realized I’d left something at Fiona’s…”

“What?”

I shake my head. “Can we talk about it tomorrow? I’m done in.”

“Yeah.” He brushes my hair away from my face. “I thought you were asleep.”

I run my palm up his back and between his wings. He’s so warm. He smells like blood, but I’m too sloshed for the smell to sting. “Did you feel anything when he cast the spell?” I don’t feel like saying Smith-Richards’s name right now, here.

Simon shrugs again. “I felt his magic. The way you do when someone casts a spell on you.”

“What does his magic feel like?”

He nestles even closer, his chest rubbing against mine, through my T-shirt. “I’m so tired of magic,” he says.

“Did it hurt?”

“No. It made me feel … full.”

“Full?”

“Like I was a bubble popping.”

I pull Simon in tighter. “I’m really angry with you for letting him cast that spell on you.”

“You don’t look angry.”

“You can’t see me.”

“You smell good,” he says again.

“It’s soap. What spell did you try to cast? To test your magic?”

Simon twines his fingers in my hair. “I tried a few. It was humiliating.”

“Which ones did you try?”

“I just said it was humiliating…”

“All right.” I sigh. I’m wrung out. So is he. We can talk about this tomorrow. I’m glad to have tomorrow at least. I’m glad to be here tonight. It’s just … “It’s just … Simon, how do you know his spell didn’t work?”

He makes a fist in my hair. “Because I felt it. I felt it not working.”

SIMON