Maybe Enough

Evan woke slowly.

For a few seconds, he had no idea where he was. The room was dark, the blankets warm around him, and someone was pressed against his side. There was a familiar weight around his middle, an arm resting across his stomach, and the soft warmth of another body tucked against him.

Then memory returned.

Stacy.

Evan opened his eyes and looked down. Stacy was still asleep beside him, curled against his chest with her face tucked near his shoulder. Her long hair had spilled across the pillow, and one hand rested loosely against him as though she'd spent the entire night holding on without ever waking.

Debbie was gone.

That surprised him. Not because he'd expected her to stay forever. The previous evening had felt so strange that he hadn't been sure what the morning was supposed to look like. But Debbie had been so enthusiastic about their anniversary, so completely comfortable with the relationship that the universe had apparently created for them. And now she was simply gone.

Evan craned his neck to see the other side of the bed.

Empty.

For some reason, he felt relieved. That was probably the first thing he noticed. The second was that the relief didn't feel particularly fair.

Debbie had been wonderful. She was beautiful, clever, energetic, enthusiastic, and extremely flexible. There had been nothing wrong with spending time with her. She'd been loving, attentive, and a great lover. Evan wasn't the most experienced guy in the bedroom, but he knew that what he'd experienced the previous night was something special. If anything, the magical version of reality seemed determined to convince him that being with Debbie was exactly what he was supposed to want.

And yet, lying there with Stacy, Evan couldn't shake the feeling that this was better.

Not better in the sense that Debbie had done anything wrong. It was simply...

Different.

Less.

When he'd been alone with Debbie the previous night, everything had felt slightly out of place. Sure, there had been moments when he'd genuinely enjoyed himself, moments when he'd almost managed to forget how bizarre his life had become. But something had been missing. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

With Stacy, that feeling wasn't there.

Evan shifted slightly, careful not to wake her. The room seemed quieter with just the two of them. If Debbie showed up at the bedroom door again, he knew he wouldn't turn her away. The thought didn't bother him nearly as much as it probably should have. He could imagine spending another evening with her, laughing with her, letting himself enjoy the ridiculous reality that had apparently decided she was his girlfriend.

He would probably have a great time. But if someone gave him a choice? Debbie, the beautiful brunette who seemed completely crazy about him...

Or Stacy, his former stepmother, who could barely stand being in the same room with him?

The answer came immediately.

Stacy.

Every time.

Evan frowned at the ceiling. That was the magic. It had to be.

Without the potion's interference, being with a woman like Debbie should have been the greatest thing imaginable. Debbie was exactly the sort of woman a nineteen-year-old guy was supposed to be thrilled about dating.

Stacy was...

Stacy.

She'd spent years treating him like a nuisance. She'd been horrible to him, especially when he was younger. She'd gotten between him and his father more times than he could count. Even now, she could barely look at him without getting angry.

And yet Evan wanted her here. He wanted her beside him. He wanted to wake up with her.

Maybe it was simply because they were trapped in this together. Maybe the magic had created some kind of emotional dependence along with everything else. Maybe his brain had been scrambled so badly that he couldn't trust any of his own feelings anymore.

Whatever the explanation, the feeling itself remained. Being around Stacy made Evan feel more complete.

That was a ridiculous thought. He almost laughed at himself. Ridiculous, but true. After all, nothing about his life was particularly sensible anymore.

A strange warmth settled over him as Stacy shifted closer.

Evan realized that he was naked beneath the blankets. He could feel the warmth of her body against him, but there was none of the frantic, uncomfortable tension he'd become accustomed to waking up with. All those mornings when he'd opened his eyes to discover Stacy pleasuring him in her sleep, or at least he had thought she was sleeping, the magic apparently having decided that the two of them needed to be physically intimate as often as possible.

This wasn't like that. There was no urgency. No compulsion. Just warmth. Stacy's arms were wrapped around him, her body curled comfortably against his, and Evan found himself relaxing into the embrace.

It felt...

Loving.

The thought was so absurd that Evan nearly smiled.

No way.

In a million years, Stacy would never love him. He knew that. He'd dosed both of them with magical potions. He'd accidentally rewritten reality. He'd watched the universe twist itself into increasingly bizarre shapes just to make their relationship make sense. And he'd watched Stacy fight it every step of the way.

She'd fought him. She'd fought the magic. She'd fought herself. There was no way she would ever genuinely fall in love with him. Evan was certain of that.

Almost certain.

Probably.

He frowned.

"Yeah," he whispered to himself. "That's reassuring."

Stacy made a soft sound in her sleep and tightened her arms around him.

For now, he didn't care whether she loved him. Whatever this was, it felt good.

Evan knew he should get up. He should wake Stacy, get dressed and start figuring out what the day was going to look like. Normally, mornings had a rhythm.

Get up.

Get dressed.

Eat something.

Go to school.

Worry about assignments.

Try not to think too much about the rest of his life.

That routine seemed almost laughable now. Yesterday had proved that none of those assumptions could be trusted anymore. Maybe he was still a student. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was still dating Debbie. Maybe the universe had decided that Stacy was his partner instead. Maybe both were true.

The questions kept piling up.

Who was he supposed to be? Who was Stacy supposed to be? And what exactly had his life become?

Evan didn't have an answer to any of them. For once, though, he didn't feel like he needed one immediately. The warmth beside him was enough.

He looked down at Stacy. In sleep, she looked different. The anger was gone from her face. So was the frustration. There was no clenched jaw or narrowed eyes, no visible reminder of the woman who had spent so much of the last few days telling him exactly how much she hated what had happened to her.

Just Stacy.

Quiet.

Peaceful.

Holding him as though she belonged there.

Evan's chest tightened. Maybe the magic had done all of this. Maybe every comforting feeling, every strange impulse, every moment when being near Stacy seemed more important than anything else was nothing more than another piece of the potion's design. But he was still the one feeling it. That had to count for something.

Evan settled deeper into the pillow. Stacy's breathing remained slow and even against him. He could wake her. He could get out of bed. He could start worrying about school, Debbie, his father, the potion, Madame Ruth and whatever impossible mess the universe had waiting for him that morning.

Instead, he stayed exactly where he was. For a few more minutes. Maybe longer.

Stacy didn't love him. She couldn't. Evan knew that. But lying there in her arms, he felt loved anyway.

And maybe, for the moment, that was enough.