The Witch's Bottle
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Yet with Max, there was hope of defeating them.
The mood of the room changed as the band began to play a ballad, recognizable as a favorite, Clint Black. Everyone got up from the table, but Max and I. My palms were sweating, I was like a smitten schoolboy, a silly smile on my face. With a sigh, she simply said that she would dance with me, taking my hand, leading me to the dance floor.
"You don't make this easy, Kelly," she said as we embraced with my slung arm squeezed between us, and pulled each other close. Foreheads, the sides of our noses touching, eyes closed, lost in the music. "I'm going to sing to you."
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