w i n t e r m a g i c*

The two of them had never been friends, the both drifted on the outskirts as bizarre but on opposite sides of the spectrum. Where he was hothead and loud, picking fights just for fun, Salma lingered in the shadows, quiet and weird. Her aunts moved about with their wild clothing and crystals, dancing above the air of Everwood. Rumors going back to the schoolyard about their witchy tendencies.

The few times Evan and Salma did cross paths, an unseen tension pressed between them. One he couldn’t explain but they both held in their eyes. Her light blue eyes stared at him unrelenting. “I’m not gonna bullshit you.” He started. He’d read about her family in the book tucked away under a loose floorboard in his room. The Denbrough’s — like the Grimes family — were a legacy family. One of the three founders of this sad little town.

“I know what you are, I know what you’re aunts are… I know the secrets buried in the soil of this godforsaken town and I’m looking for some answers.”  

Salma keeps her expression neutral, her eyes unmoving from his stubbled face. Her aunts discussed this when the air began to change around him. ( He’s gonna fine out sooner or later. Don’t poke the bear, Sal. Us and those Grimes folk never got along... it’s in out blood. ) Salma never took her eyes off Evan for too long when he stepped into the cafe. Afraid the fire burning in his veins would explode. 

However, she never expected him to be so forward with her. They aren’t exactly friends. 

The only still running diner in town used to be a small save haven for Evan. A place he could spend a few hours tucked in a corner with his studies, able to get away from the cold or his grandmother’s house that always smelled like decaying flowers. As an adult, he rarely ventured into the small diner, only on occasion when he had a taste for their slightly burnt coffee. 

Evan half huffed at Salma’s comment suppressing an eye roll. She was part of the reason he avoided this place. Her energy shined bright enough to blind him. Her eyes stared into his soul, the shine around her emanating her dislike for him. He forced an amused, lopsided smirk. Evan wasn’t sure WHY he’d decided today to talk to her, but with the bitter late November winds and the near empty space, he couldn’t pass it up. 

“No, I’ll just take the coffee. But only if I can buy you one.” He settled his eyes on hers, waiting for her response, the amusement no longer forced or fabricated. The journal left by his father, a relic from generations, spoke of the Denbrough’s – their magic light, different than the darkness that wrapped itself around the Grimes and other alike. He wondered, how much did she know? Was she as in the dark as he’d been, or had she had the privilege of growing up magic. 

With those aunts of hers… he doubted it was the former. “I just wanna talk.” 

Salma glanced at the antique clock on the wall, her shift thankfully coming to a end. The two of them stared at each other for a long beat. Her ice eyes taking in his heated appearance. The November air drifted in with every ding of the bell, nipping at her fingers. It was strange, the air seemed to sweep around Evan, avoid contact, only touching the edges. She felt a heat radiating off of him, subtle but warm like the last embers of a burning camp fire. 

“Alright. Two minutes.” She nodded toward the empty booth in the back corner and turned her back to him. She muttered that she was clocking out a few minutes early, hung up her apron and collected her things. She stopped at the counter, filling a To-Go cup to the bring with black coffee, only adding a dash of creamer. 

She slid into the booth across from Evan. Stretching her legs out, grazing his exposed ankle with her own. She gasped, a flash cutting through her vision. A young Evan sliding into this exact booth, a pile of books in his hands, a fresh cut on his brow and a flaming anger ignited in his chest. She pulled her legs away, her heels hitting the backboard. 

Salma dragged the dampened cloth over the counter for the third time in the past hour, mindlessly scrubbing away coffee stains and stuck on maple syrup. The Tuesday morning dragged on with little patron’s, everything spending their days at work to rack up as much money as they could for the holiday season. She didn’t dare glance at the communal tip jar at the end of the counter, barely holding double digit dollars. She could use the money, not for presents -- those were something she didn’t have to worry about --- but for her own sanity.

She hoped to move from her house by the new year, forge her own place outside her aunt’s erratic decor and disappointed eyes. At twenty-eight, she hadn’t left the small town of Everwood since she graduated the local community college with an associated degree collecting dust in the basement. 

When the bell rang signifying a new patron, Salma’s swiping paused, leaving a smear of water over a stuck-on coffee ring. The air turned uncomfortably warm, her body buzzing with a subtle warning. She looked up to meet the man’s eyes, her breath caught in her throat. She knew the man standing in the doorway, snow salting his hair. His eyes stared at her hard and cold despite the hear he brings with him.

It was a rarity for Evan Monroe to come into the diner, but every time he did, Salma wanted to crawl into the back freezer and wait for him to leave.