A Witch's Inconvenient Crush

  Alexandra Larson

  Copyright © 2026 by Alexandra Larson

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. No generative artificial intelligence (AI) was used in the writing of this work. The author expressly prohibits any entity from using this publication for purposes of training AI technologies to generate text, including without limitation technologies that are capable of generating works in the same style or genre as this publication. The author reserves all rights to license use of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

  ISBN (ebook): 979-8-9874887-8-2

  ISBN (paperback): 978-1-970397-00-0

  Cover: Photos licensed by author

  First Edition: March 2026

  Contents

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Author Note

  Playlist

  About the Author

  Blurb

  Elliot Croft has two secrets he guards with his life.

  One: He’s a healing witch. But not a very good one. His magic never actually works when he needs it to.

  Two: He has a crush on his best friend, Damon Montré. But it’s just a teeny, tiny crush. It’s inconvenient, but it’s not like he’s in love with him or something.

  You’d be surprised which one of those secrets caused him more trouble.

  This novella (30,000 words or ~110 pages) is an MM paranormal romance about two seniors in high school (both guys are eighteen years old). There are descriptions of a car crash, discussions of parental death, and sexually explicit content.

  You can expect the following tropes: friends-to-lovers, bi awakening, possessive best friend, nerd x jock, secret magic powers, my powers only react this way with you, touch him and you’ll be sorry.

  Prologue

  Twelve Years Ago

  Elliot Croft only had one thing he wanted to do during recess. He hated kickball, tag, and had no interest in sitting in the tunnels, gossiping with the girls.

  Stone Ridge Elementary’s playground had eight swings. Seven, if you considered that the one on the far right made a terrible creaking noise that made Elliot jump out of his skin if he used it.

  He would, if he really had to, but it was not preferred. Given there were at least eighty kids on the playground, Elliot had to be at the front of the line when they headed out to recess. To ensure his spot, he would save his dessert from lunch and offer it to the kids in the front of the line to switch spots with him when he wasn’t quick enough finishing his spelling work.

  His mom understood Elliot’s obsession—she was good like that, understanding all of Elliot’s eccentricities—and made sure to pack him individually wrapped cookies or brownies. Pre-packaged junk food was currency in the first grade.

  Except today, his mom announced they were out of brownies. Elliot tried to speed through his spelling but was still stuck in the back of the line with no bargaining chips. He promised double desserts the next day, but first graders sucked at understanding delayed gratification.

  So Elliot was bouncing a basketball, hovering near the swings, his focus zeroed in, waiting for the moment one would open up. The teachers didn’t allow kids to stand in front of the swings, so he had to pretend to be busy with “playing.” No one understood that Elliot didn’t know how to play. He only knew how to swing. Only felt the freedom from the stress of other kids not understanding him, of his teacher’s disappointment that he didn’t fit in, when he was in the beautiful ritual of leaning back, legs out; leaning forward, legs in; leaning back, legs out; leaning forward, legs in.

  The basketball made its heavy thud, thud, thud on the asphalt as Elliot paced back and forth. He watched for even a micromovement from his classmates that would precede them getting off their swings.

  His close attention was the only reason that he was already sprinting toward Damon as he launched himself into the air with a loud yippee. The excited yell was cut off by a pained scream as Damon landed hard, tumbling into the wood chips.

  Elliot skidded to a stop in front of him, crouching down. His heart raced, and a tingling heat prickled along his arms.

  “Ouch,” Damon said, wincing as he cradled his arm. “That hurt.”

  “That was stupid,” Elliot said.

  “Yeah, but it was fun,” Damon said, his eyes filling with tears.

  Elliot didn’t know why he did it, what part of his inner psyche woke up and raged at seeing someone hurt. No, not just someone, but this boy. He placed both of his hands on Damon’s upper arm. There was a heavy energy, dense and cracked, but Elliot sensed he could massage it away. Not with his fingers, which rested gently on Damon’s arm, but with the weird tingling heat that had flooded his limbs and seemed to originate from his core.

  “What are you…” Damon stared at his arm.

  Elliot focused his attention, his energy, and he imagined white light surrounding Damon’s cracked arm bone.

  Damon gasped.

  Elliot removed his hand when the energy shifted. He blew out a breath and sat back on his feet.

  Damon’s warm brown skin was slightly damp from sweat that had gathered along the hairline of his short, tight curls. His dark eyes searched Elliot’s face and then glanced at his arm in wonder. He twisted his shoulder, his wrist, and shook out his arm.

  “What happened? Damon, I’ve told you repeatedly not to jump off the swings,” Ms. Garlande said as she and the other teachers circled the boys.

  “Sorry, Ms. G,” Damon said, his eyes still locked on Elliot.

  “Elliot, can you take Damon to the nurse?” Ms. Garlande asked.

  Elliot nodded and stood, offering his hand to Damon.

  Damon took Elliot’s hand with his “bad” arm. The teachers returned to their posts once it was clear there wasn’t a serious injury.

  Elliot braced himself for Damon’s questioning. What had he done to him? Why didn’t his arm hurt anymore?

  But Damon didn’t grill him. He only smiled.

  “You’re a mess,” Elliot said. He reached up and pulled a wood chip from Damon’s shirt. He didn’t know why he was blushing as he did it.

  Damon shook like a dog to get the rest of the wood chips off. Elliot laughed as Damon grinned. “But my jump was pretty epic, right?”

  Elliot shook his head, unable to contain the weird, fizzy lightness spreading through his chest. “Yeah, Damon. It was epic.”

  The boys walked off the playground. All eight swings occupied by their classmates. It was the first day Elliot could remember that he didn’t care he wasn’t one of them.

  Chapter One

  Senior Year of High School

  “Stop!” Elliot laughed. “No, I hate it. Stop!” Elliot giggled like a little girl, which only encouraged Damon to continue tickling him.

  “No! I’m not going to stop until you admit that I’m right,” Damon said.

  “Fuck you, Montré.” Elliot pushed his shoulders, but Damon’s quick hands found his ticklish sides again.

  “Come on, Croft,” Damon said, dodging Elliot’s knee as it attempted to kick him in the nose. “Admit it. Say it!”

  “No! Never!”

  Damon made a weird growling noise in the back of his throat and launched himself on top of Elliot, flattening him to the carpet in Damon’s bedroom. He pinned Elliot’s arms over his head, straddling him. Damon’s chest expanded and contracted in heavy pants.

  Damon’s brown eyes glittered with a bright animation that Elliot knew he’d never be able to conjure for himself.

  “Admit it,” Damon huffed, his breath falling over Elliot’s face. It should have helped diffuse the predicament Elliot was currently in that Damon’s breath smelled like nacho cheese and soda.

  And yet, it didn’t.

  Elliot screwed his eyes shut as the parts of his body that were rubbing on his best friend started to perk up. He jerked around, twisting his body left and right in an attempt to wiggle out of Damon’s hold, but Damon was stronger. He was the baseball team’s star hitter. With his beefy biceps and wide shoulders, Damon could overpower Elliot whenever he wanted.

  Elliot groaned inwardly. He shouldn’t have liked that as much as he did. He turned his face toward the carpet to give himself enough time to mumble a spell under his breath.

  By the power of Eros, hide my lust, conceal the truth before I bust.

  Not the prettiest spell, but it came in handy when needing to a hide a boner from your best friend.

  The spell redirected the blood from his lower bod
y, not entirely, but it bought Elliot a little more time.

  As a healing witch, he could manipulate the biomechanical functions of the body. Not very well, mind you. His grandmama could heal people who were in fatal car wrecks and have them walk away without a scrape.

  Not Elliot. He usually choked when the people who were counting on him needed him the most.

  He didn’t have control over his secret powers, so he used spells to align his intentions. If he’d been better at magic, maybe he could’ve found an anti-boner spell, so he didn’t have to ever worry about this particular situation.

  Alas, he had not.

  “Say it!” Damon demanded, and since he couldn’t tickle Elliot while also pinning his arms over his head, he leaned down and pressed his face into Elliot’s sides, tickling him with his nose.

  Yeah, the spell was definitely not going to be enough. Not with Damon’s mouth so close to his junk.

  “Fine!” Elliot said. “I’ll say it, if you get off me.”

  Damon grinned and rolled off.

  Elliot took his time sitting up and fixing his shirt. He flipped his head to flick his long blonde hair out of his eyes. He felt Damon watching him with rapt anticipation. With a heavy sigh, Elliot said, “I’m just as good looking as you, and girls would like me if I actually talked to them.”

  Damon pushed his shoulder. “That’s fucking right, Croft.”

  Elliot rolled his eyes. “Are you happy now?”

  “Ecstatic, Elliot. I’m ecstatic.” Damon threw an arm around his shoulders and leaned in, his mouth against Elliot’s ear. “But if you really wanna make me happy, you’d believe it.”

  Elliot’s breath stuttered, and he tried to shove Damon away, but Damon only tightened his arm and put him in a headlock, ruffling his hair.

  “Ugh! You said you’d stop, dude!” Elliot said.

  “Sorry,” Damon said and resumed sitting beside him. “I just hate seeing you all upset. Need to snap you out of it.”

  Elliot picked up the game controller. “I’m not upset.”

  Yes, he was.

  Damon was going to prom with Chelsea, who was undeniably the prettiest girl in school, and since it took Elliot by surprise, he’d been unable to muster the proper level of fake enthusiasm for his best friend.

  Damon’s ex-girlfriend Rochelle broke up with him a few weeks ago, so Elliot assumed neither he nor Damon were going to senior prom. He assumed that he wouldn’t have to fake his smile while some girl danced with Damon, touched him, pressed up on him all night.

  But when Damon asked Elliot why he was upset, Elliot couldn’t very well tell him the truth, so he made a grumbling remark about how it was hard to be friends with someone who was at least three levels hotter than him.

  Which prompted Damon’s demand for Elliot to admit he was just as attractive as him and the only reason Elliot didn’t get attention from girls was simply because he was shy.

  It was true. He was shy.

  And with his acne scars on pasty-white skin, too-long hair, and clothes that were always somehow too big or too short for his gangly limbs, it was also true that he was most definitely three or more levels below Damon in the looks department. What with Damon’s perfect brown skin, twice-a-month barbershop appointments, and body that filled out his baseball uniform in ways that made Elliot’s mouth go dry.

  But despite the shyness and his unremarkable appearance, Elliot knew his lack of female attention probably had more to do with the fact that he was extremely gay.

  Elliot was pretty sure the rest of the school knew, or at least sensed, he wasn’t into girls, but since Elliot couldn’t deny Damon anything, he agreed to ask out Damon’s prom date’s best friend just because Damon wanted them all to go to prom together as a group.

  “Yeah, you’re totally upset,” Damon said. “I know you, Elliot. It’s okay to be shy, but you gotta take a risk every once in a while.” He grabbed the other controller and sat close enough to Elliot that their shoulders pressed together.

  It wasn’t because Damon wanted to touch him. He just had no boundaries. None whatsoever. That was never more obvious than after the thing that happened on spring break.

  The thing Elliot tried really hard to never think about.

  They were just best friends. They’d been like this since the day Damon broke his arm jumping off the swing and Elliot accidentally healed it, thereby cementing their friendship for eternity.

  “Yeah, I guess I’m a little jealous,” Elliot said. “But I’ll get over it.”

  Jealous of Chelsea for getting to go to prom with you.

  Damon snorted and proceeded to obliterate Elliot’s character on the screen. Just like he obliterated Elliot’s heart.

  Every. Single. Day.

  Chapter Two

  “Is Elliot going to ask Madison out soon?” Chelsea asked as she chomped on a carrot stick next to Damon in the lunchroom.

  Damon shrugged. “He hasn’t said.”

  “Well, maybe you should ask him.”

  Damon sighed. Chelsea wasn’t his girlfriend, but they’d been hooking up for the past two weeks. It was her idea to get Elliot and her best friend Madison to go to prom together since Madison was newly single. Damon thought it was a brilliant plan. He didn’t want to go to prom without Elliot.

  But Elliot was dragging his feet on the asking part.

  “I mean…” Damon paused to chug his carton of milk. “Elliot already said he’d go with her, and Madison already said she’d go with him. Why does he have to ask her?”

  Damon opened his second carton of milk. His coach said he needed more protein, and since his mom refused to buy the protein mixes all the other guys had, he had to get his protein from “whole foods.”

  Chelsea rubbed her eyes. “Because Damon, Madison agreed to this on the condition that Elliot would ask her in a very public manner to make Jason jealous.”

  Damon narrowed his eyes and put down his milk. “Wait. You did not tell me that.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “No, pretty sure you didn’t.”

  “I did,” Chelsea said. “Remember when you were on the phone with Elliot the day I came over to your house? I reminded you to remind him about Madison.”

  “Yeah. Which I did.”

  “And I told you to tell him to make it a public asking out to make Jason jealous.”

  Damon’s jaw worked. He definitely didn’t remember her telling him this…

  Or if she did, he wasn’t paying attention.

  If Damon was on the phone with Elliot when Chelsea said this, then yeah, he probably wasn’t paying attention.

  Elliot didn’t call Damon much. He preferred texting and hated being on camera, which meant when Damon saw the incoming video call brighten his phone—with a shitty picture he’d taken of Elliot when he fell asleep and Damon put his long hair into pigtails—it’d felt sacred. Damon’s stomach had flipped.

  Because, you know, it was probably an emergency if he was calling.

  It hadn’t been an emergency. Or, at least, not something that Damon would classify as an emergency. Elliot, however, probably did think it was.

  Elliot couldn’t find his house keys, and one of his parents didn’t put the spare key back under the frog statue after the last time they used it.

  And what do you know? Somehow, his keys were in Damon’s backpack.

  He told Elliot he had no idea how they got there.

  But, of course, Elliot could come over to get them.

  Damon spent the next fifteen minutes trying to come up with a plan to get Chelsea to leave without pissing her off because if Elliot was coming over, Damon could probably convince him to play a game of Wizard Combat Zone 2.

  And one game would turn into two, then Damon’s mom would call them for dinner, and Elliot would have been tricked into hanging out with Damon even though he’d told him that he had to “study.”

  So yeah. Damon was distracted when Chelsea was explaining the details, thinking about his tricking Elliot into hanging out plan.

  “Chelsea,” Damon said. “There is no way Elliot is going to go for this. He’s too…you know.”

  Chelsea pursed her lips. “I know. It probably wouldn’t even work. Jason isn’t going to be jealous of a gay guy asking Madison out, but I thought since Elliot hasn’t officially come out that we could probably spread a rumor that he was bi and—”