Green Witch From The Woods

Jacob frowned slightly as Daniel scrolled through his screen. A moment later, he turned the phone toward him.

It was your social media profile.

You were smiling in the photo, a warm, effortless smile. Your eyes sparkled as though you were standing right in front of him instead of existing behind a screen. The wind played with your hair while the setting sun painted the sky behind you in streaks of gold, pink, and orange. Jacob knew that picture, he had taken it himself. He had taken it of you.

"We work together," Daniel explained casually. "I know, she's pretty average, but everyone's got to start with someone easy."

It felt like someone had punched Jacob in the stomach. "So all of this..." he said quietly. "You wanted all this advice just to..."

"Sleep with her?" Daniel shrugged, setting his coffee cup down with a soft clink. "She's nice. That's it. I talked to her a couple of times, helped her when the printer jammed, held the door open. She agreed to go out without much effort, but..." He winked at Jacob as though they shared the same understanding. "We're not trying to be the nice guy here, right?"

"Right," Jacob muttered.

Even as he said it, he wished this entire conversation had never happened.

By the time he reached your apartment building, he immediately noticed the light glowing through your living room window. He didn't even have to think about the way upstairs. For over a year he'd walked those stairs so many times he could probably find your apartment blindfolded.

The door opened almost the moment he knocked. Surprise spread across your face. You hadn't been expecting him.

"Cancel tonight," he blurted without thinking.

You blinked. "It's good to see you too, Jacob." You tilted your head. "What exactly are we talking about?"

"Your date." He stepped inside, and instinctively you moved aside before closing the door behind him. "Cancel it."

You folded your arms across your chest as you followed him into the living room.

"And why would I do that?"

Through the half-open bedroom door, Jacob spotted the dress lying neatly across your bed. The one you were planning to wear. You looked beautiful in it. He knew because he'd been standing beside you when you bought it. He'd been the one who told you so. It was the perfect dress for a date. Just not with him.

"He's not good enough," Jacob said, slipping his hands into his pockets. "Just trust me."

"You don't even know him."

"I know enough."

"You've never even met him."

Jacob looked away instead of answering. That was all the confirmation you needed. You'd known him long enough to recognize exactly what had happened. Men asked Jacob Palmer for advice all the time. What shirt to wear, how to approach a woman, how to stop being shy, how to make sure there'd be a second date. You'd overheard those conversations before. You just never imagined one of Jacob Palmer's lessons would be used on you.

"You have..." Your voice faltered. "You talked to Daniel?"

He nodded once. "He asked for advice. I didn't know it was you."

"Oh."

Your voice sounded strangely empty. Jacob would have given anything to know what was going through your mind. Or maybe he wouldn't.

"So now you know you can't go," he said.

You finally looked back at him. "You don't get to decide that, Jacob."

"I'm trying to protect you."

"I don't need protecting."

"You don't even know what kind of guy he is."

"And neither do you." Your voice sharpened. "He's kind. He's polite. He helped me when…"

"When your printer jammed." Jacob rolled his eyes. "Yeah. He told me."

Silence settled between you. Heavy and uncomfortable. You had known Jacob for a long time. He was your friend, because you had never been his type. You'd seen the women who surrounded him.Women who looked like millions of dollars. Beautiful and elegant. Whenever you happened to stand beside him, you disappeared into the background. This was your life, and you accepted it.

Eventually, you shook your head. "I think I get it now."

Jacob frowned. "Get what?"

"You think I'm going to embarrass myself."

"What?"

"You helped him because you assumed he'd end up with someone..." Your laugh was painfully hollow. "...prettier."

His entire expression changed. "Don't."

But you couldn't stop. Not now. "Then you realized it was just me." Your voice cracked. "And suddenly I'm not good enough."

Jacob raised a hand. His voice turned hard. "That is not what I said. Do you honestly think that's what I meant?"

You shrugged. Your eyes shimmered with tears. "What else am I supposed to think?"

His frustration finally exploded. "For God's sake, look at yourself."

You flinched. You had never heard that tone from him before.

"You fall for every smile someone gives you. You trust every guy who's decent to you for five minutes." His jaw clenched. "That's your problem."

The words hit harder than a slap ever could. Your eyes filled instantly, your lips parted.

"Wow."

Jacob's anger disappeared the second he saw the tears spilling down your cheeks. "No..."

"You know..." Your voice trembled despite your best effort to steady it. "I've always wondered what you really thought of me."

He took a step closer. "You don't mean that..."

"I think I finally know."

You drew a shaky breath, your hands settling on your hips. Suddenly you felt small. Cheap. Pathetic.

"You spend your time with women who look like they walked off magazine covers." Tears streamed freely down your face now. "I always knew I wasn't one of them."

Jacob opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"So when you tell me I should stay away from someone..." You swallowed hard. "All you're doing is confirming everything I've always been afraid of."

He already dreaded whatever came next.

"You think I'm beneath him." Your voice broke completely. "Beneath his standards. Beneath everyone else's." Another tear rolled down your cheek. "Thanks for finally saying it."

When Jacob finally found his voice, he barely recognized it. "That's not what I said."

"You did." You wiped at your cheeks with trembling hands. "For the first time, you were just honest with me, Jacob."

He instinctively reached for your hand, but you stepped back. In that moment you felt like a stranger, even though he knew you better than almost anyone. He had spent so long refusing to admit, to you, and to himself, how much you meant to him.

But now… God. He felt it in every part of him.

"Please leave, Jacob." Your voice was barely above a whisper.

This time, he didn't have the courage to argue. As the apartment door closed behind him, it felt as though someone had reached into his chest and torn away a piece of his heart. He felt sick. After everything that had been said. After your tears. He was leaving behind the person who had always been kind to him, patient, understanding. The person who laughed at his terrible jokes. Who spent countless evenings with him talking for hours or sharing pizza on the couch while watching terrible movies.

He was leaving behind the woman who mattered more to him than he had ever allowed himself to admit… And because of him she was crying. For the first time in his life, Jacob Palmer had absolutely no idea how to fix it.

Lars' blue eyes widened. He lifted his head, suddenly alarmed. "What do you mean?"

Gus shrugged. "You know. You and her." He paused. "Are you seeing each other? I mean... are you dating or something?"

The color drained from Lars' face before a blush quickly took its place. He turned the beer bottle between his long fingers, staring at it as if it might somehow save him from answering. He could feel Gus watching him, waiting. From the kitchen came the soft clatter of dishes as Karin cleaned up.

Finally, Lars cleared his throat. "Why are you asking?"

"You remember Mark?"

"The guy who owns the hardware store in town?"

Gus nodded. "Yeah."

Lars frowned slightly. "I remember. What about him?"

Gus scratched the back of his neck. "He asked me if she's seeing anyone. Says she's pretty and nice. He'd like to take her out."

Lars' fingers tightened around the bottle. "Oh."

"I told him I'd ask you because..." Gus hesitated. "You've been spending a lot of time together lately, so maybe..."

It was true.

Ever since the dance, you and Lars had been seeing each other fairly regularly. You'd gone to the movies, met for coffee a few times, even had dinner together. But your favorite thing was simply being together.

Sometimes you'd take long walks. Sometimes you'd sit together in one of your living rooms, playing Scrabble, talking, or watching a movie.

And kissing.

Just thinking about it made something warm spread through Lars' chest. He loved kissing you. Every single time, he asked first, and every single time you smiled in that way that made his heart feel impossibly light. 

Everything was different with you. Lars didn't feel as uncomfortable as he usually did around people. Your presence felt safe. Comfortable. Even when he held your hand, and he loved doing that, he didn't feel that unpleasant tension crawling beneath his skin. Quite the opposite. It felt good. Your touch didn't hurt.

"So?" Gus' voice pulled him back to reality.

Lars quickly lifted the bottle and took a sip of beer, a little too fast. He shrugged. "I don't know. You'd have to ask her."

"I thought maybe…"

The chair scraped loudly against the floor as Lars pushed himself to his feet. "I should go. I have something I need to do."

Gus blinked. "Karin made pie…"

"I'm sure it's delicious. I'm sorry, but I have to..."

And before anyone could say another word, before Karin could even come out carrying the apple pie, Lars was already gone.

You met again a few days later. 

The moment you opened your apartment door and saw Lars standing there, you knew something was bothering him. Still, you patiently waited for him to tell you in his own time.

Now the two of you sat in a booth at a small café. A chocolate muffin sat in front of each of you, the proceeds from every sale were being donated to the local library, and you'd both agreed it was a cause worth supporting. Beside them were steaming cups of coffee.

A few other customers lingered throughout the café, while soft music drifted from the speakers overhead.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on in that head of yours?" you asked, taking a sip of coffee before setting your mug back on the wooden table.

Lars shifted uncomfortably. His gaze wandered around the café before finally settling on you. "It's nothing."

"I don't think so." You smiled gently. "You get that look."

"That look?" His brow furrowed slightly.

"Yeah. The one you get when something's bothering you. Or when you're thinking very hard about something."

You gave him space and didn't push, something Lars was always grateful for. He folded his hands together on the table and sighed. 

"If someone..." he began quietly. You tilted your head, patiently listening. "If someone wanted to ask you out. I mean... on a date."

"Oh."

"Would you say yes?"

You studied him for a moment, carefully considering his words. Then you bit your lip. "Lars, I'm sorry, maybe I've misunderstood something, but…" 

He interrupted quickly. "I mean Mark." You blinked. "Mark thinks you're pretty and nice, which is obviously true. And he wants to take you out."

The words tumbled out so quickly that for a second you were too surprised to respond. You noticed how tense his shoulders were. How much effort it had taken for him to say it. Then, slowly, you smiled.

"You know," you said softly, "I thought we were already dating. You and me."

Lars straightened immediately. "We are?"

You nodded. "We go to movies together. We take walks. We spend time together." You leaned forward slightly and lowered your voice. "And we kiss."

A blush spread across Lars' cheeks. But he smiled. "I guess that's what people who are dating do."

"Apparently."

For a moment neither of you spoke. Then, slowly and a little uncertainly, Lars reached across the table and took your hand. The smile never left his face.

"So..." You tilted your head, watching him carefully, teasing him just a little. "Do you want me to go out with Mark?"

"No." The answer came much faster than he intended. He squeezed your hand gently. "You're... you're my girlfriend, right?"

He needed to be sure. Needed to know that you'd chosen him. Needed to hear you say it.

You nodded. "Yes, Lars. I'm your girlfriend."

His eyes lit up instantly. He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

His girlfriend.

The thought alone filled him with so much happiness that for a moment, he couldn't stop smiling.

The package Karin had ordered from a craft supply catalog was rather bulky, and when Lars picked it up from the post office, he had to carry it with both hands. His car was parked nearby, and he was already making his way toward it when he caught sight of you out of the corner of his eye. You were standing outside the hardware store, your coat buttoned against the cool afternoon breeze, smiling politely at someone.

Mark.

Lars felt as though something heavy had dropped into the pit of his stomach. He recognized him immediately. Mark was leaning casually against the storefront, talking to you as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Because it was. Whatever he'd said made you laugh softly.

Lars stopped walking, tightening his grip on the package. People talked to each other all the time. That was perfectly normal, and you weren't doing anything inappropriate. But still… He remembered what Gus had told him, that Mark had been asking about you because you were… Ugh. Lars felt even worse. He quickly looked away, letting out the breath he'd been holding without even realizing it.

But the moment Mark smiled at you, Lars didn't really make a conscious decision. His feet were already carrying him in your direction. His shoulders were slightly tense, the package tucked awkwardly against his chest. The instant your eyes met, however, his expression softened with relief. A smile spread across your face as he reached the two of you.

"Oh, that looks heavy," you said, glancing at the package.

"It isn't," Lars replied. He looked between you and Mark. "Were you talking?"

"I noticed she was coming back from the drug store," Mark answered. "I figured I'd say hello. She recommended a book to me a while back, and I wanted to thank her. It was really good."

"Right." Lars nodded, offering a small smile.

Mark turned back to you, completely oblivious to how close Lars had stepped. Only a few inches separated your shoulders now. Meanwhile, Mark started mentioning a new movie playing at the theater in the next town over, a huge hit with a cast full of famous actors.

"So," Mark continued, "I was wondering if maybe you'd..."

Before he could finish, Lars carefully shifted the box into one arm. His free hand hovered uncertainly for a moment, but you immediately understood what he meant. Without a word, you slipped your fingers into his. The effect on Lars was immediate. His shoulders relaxed, and his fingers gently curled around yours. He glanced down for just a second, almost as if he couldn't quite believe you'd done it so naturally, without a moment's hesitation.

Mark's sentence died halfway through as his eyes dropped to your joined hands. "Oh."

A brief silence settled between the three of you. Then understanding crossed his face.

"I didn't realize."

You smiled apologetically. "We've actually been seeing each other for a little while."

Lars couldn't help himself. He smiled. A real smile. It was small, but unmistakably proud, and the way he looked at you left no room for doubt. Even if Mark had still been wondering, he certainly wasn't anymore. 

Mark chuckled. 

"Well..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "That explains why Gus was being so weird."

Lars blinked. "He told you?"

"He told me he was going to ask around." Mark laughed. "Guess I got my answer."

"I'm sorry," you said kindly.

"No, don't be." He smiled sincerely. "I'm happy for both of you. Really." He nodded once toward Lars. "You picked a good guy."

Lars looked genuinely surprised. "Thank you."

Mark excused himself and headed back inside the hardware store. The bell above the door jingled softly behind him. For several seconds, neither of you moved. Lars was still holding your hand, the smile never leaving his face. It wasn't until you spoke that he seemed to return to reality.

"Were you jealous?"

His ears turned pink almost instantly. He cleared his throat. "Maybe."

You laughed quietly. "And you walked over here to rescue me?"

"I don't think you needed rescuing. But..." His gaze drifted to your still-intertwined fingers. "I wanted him to know. Just... in case."

Your smile softened. "Know what?"

His thumb gently brushed across the back of your hand. "That you're my girlfriend."

The words came out almost painfully quiet. You stepped a little closer.

"I am."

Another pause. Then Lars admitted, almost sheepishly, "I also liked holding your hand."

"I noticed." You laughed again. "I'll remember that."

The relief on his face was impossible to miss. Then you leaned in and kissed his cheek, right there on the sidewalk. Lars froze for a full two seconds before breaking into such a bright, genuine smile that it was impossible not to smile back.

"I don't think," you said, "Mark has any doubts now."

Lars glanced toward the hardware store window, where Mark happened to look outside just before disappearing down another aisle, returning to whatever he'd been doing.

"Probably not."

He looked back at you, adjusted Karin's package on his shoulder, and glanced toward the car. The two of you started walking that way at an easy pace. Only after Lars placed the package on the back seat and walked around to open the passenger door for you did you notice the excited sparkle in his blue eyes.

"Maybe..." he began uncertainly. Encouraged by your warm expression, he found a little more confidence. "Maybe you'd like to go to the movies with me and see that film. The one Mark mentioned."

"Yeah," you said with a smile. "I'd love to."

Lars leaned toward you slightly, as though he were about to share a secret. "It'll be a date."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Does that mean there'll be kissing?"

You were almost certain you caught the blush spreading across his cheeks. Watching Lars open up around you a little more each day was simply wonderful.

"I hope so," he admitted after a moment. "I love kissing my girlfriend."

The notification appeared on your phone. "Your driver has arrived". You stood, slipped your phone into your pocket, and left the pub without looking back. A primer-grey car was waiting just outside the entrance. A young man sat behind the wheel. Without giving it a second thought, you opened the rear door, climbed inside, and shut it behind you.

"Just...get me out of here." The words left your mouth before you had time to think about how desperate they sounded. "You sure?" a calm, quiet voice asked. You caught a glimpse of bright blue eyes in the rearview mirror. "Yeah." You slid lower into the seat and rested your head against the cool window. "And where to?" You shrugged. "Does it really matter..." He probably had your address already. Maybe he was only asking to be polite.

The engine started, and the car pulled away from the curb. Driver, because it was his car you'd climbed into, watched you through the mirror. Your eyes looked sadder than most people's, your mascara had smudged slightly beneath them. Your shoulders were tense, but more than anything… You looked resigned. Not drunk or scared, just exhausted. The kind of exhausted that settled somewhere much deeper than your bones.

"You know," he said after several quiet minutes, once the pub had disappeared behind you, "you got into the wrong car." You looked up. "What?" "I'm not your Uber." For the first time, you actually looked around. The car wasn't marked. It smelled faintly of leather and something else you couldn't quite place. The man behind the wheel wore a satin jacket. "Oh my God." You immediately sat upright. "I'm so sorry." Driver simply shrugged. "You wanted to leave. You are." You blinked. "You're surprisingly calm for someone whose car was just invaded by a complete stranger." You noticed the corner of his mouth lift. "Sometimes that happens."

You leaned back again, rubbing at your eyes and smearing your mascara just a little more before letting out a long sigh. "I've got maybe a few dollars in my wallet. So... if you're a serial killer, honestly, I don't have much worth stealing." "Tough day?" You let out a humorless laugh. "Day?" You shook your head. "Week. Month. The last few months. Call it whatever you want." "I get it."

The city lights drifted across the windows as the car continued through the quiet streets. Oddly enough, you weren't afraid. You never asked him to stop the car, never reached for your phone, never suggested calling someone. After a while, he spoke again. "What's your name?" You told him, and he repeated it quietly, almost thoughtfully. "And you?" "Driver." You didn't ask whether that was his real name. You simply accepted it. Silence settled between you again.

Eventually, though, he had to decide what to do with the strange woman sitting in the back seat of his car. A few minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of a small twenty-four-hour diner. You looked up, slightly confused. You'd been so lost in your own thoughts you hadn't even noticed you'd stopped. "I think you need coffee," Driver said. "You think so?" "Trust me." That was a strange thing to hear from a man whose car you'd accidentally climbed into. Even so, you followed him inside.

The evening air had turned chilly, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself as you walked toward the entrance. Driver was already holding the door open for you. The diner was nearly empty and the two of you slid into a booth by the window and ordered coffee. "Do you often get into strangers' cars?" he asked. You looked up. "Do you often take strange women with you?" He smiled. This time, you felt the corners of your own mouth twitch. "I'm sorry." You rubbed your temple. "My head's been so full today... I wasn't paying attention to anything." He nodded. 

A waitress arrived with your coffees. You wrapped both hands around the warm mug, letting the heat soak into your fingers. "I wish I were already home," you murmured, mostly to yourself. A quiet breath escaped you. "But at the same time… The thought that tomorrow's another day... that I have to wake up and open my eyes again… I just want to cry." Driver watched you carefully. He stayed silent for a moment before asking, "Do you have anyone?" You looked at him. "Someone who can take care of you?" An ironic smile appeared on your face. "You're looking at her."

You shook your head. "And then there was this date. I could've stayed home, but apparently I decided I hadn't suffered enough yet." "That bad?" You met his eyes. "If I had the face and body of one of those women whose videos he watches late at night..." You sighed. "Maybe he'd have been interested. God... I'm sorry." You looked away. "I just… I'm..." "Tired," Driver finished quietly. You nodded.

He took another sip of his coffee. "You know..." His voice was calm. "I think a lot of us end up there sometimes." His gaze met yours. "So maybe...it's not such a bad thing that you got into my car tonight." You held his gaze for a long moment. There was something about him that made the noise inside your head grow quieter. A stranger who wasn't trying to fix you, wasn't judging you. He was simply...there.

The silence between you wasn't uncomfortable anymore. Outside, another car rolled past the window, its headlights briefly washing over the table before disappearing into the night. Driver traced absent circles around his coffee mug. "I can't promise it'll get better." You looked up. "I don't know what's waiting for you tomorrow. I don't know what next week looks like either." You nodded slowly. "I figured." "But..." For the first time that evening, there was something almost playful in his expression. "I can promise you dinner."

You frowned. "Dinner?" He nodded once. "Tomorrow. I know a place." You couldn't help smiling. "You're asking a girl who accidentally got into the wrong car to have dinner with a complete stranger." "You already trusted me once." "I wasn't exactly paying attention." "Still counts."

A quiet laugh escaped you before you could stop it, but it was the first genuine laugh you'd managed all week. Driver noticed, but he didn't comment on it. He simply reached for his coffee again. "So?" You looked down into your mug, then back at him. The exhaustion was still there. Tomorrow would still come, work would still be waiting, none of your problems had disappeared, and yet… For the first time in days, tomorrow didn't feel quite so impossible.