Any Way the Wind Blows (Simon Snow, #3)

by Rainbow Rowell

We talked last night, plenty—until the pub closed. Niamh told me about veterinary school. (She likes it.) And living in London. (She doesn’t.) About what she’s learned from my dad, and how she wants to start her own practice, and how she’s going to run for the Coven someday. Niamh has a lot of opinions about how things should be done. And what’s practical. I have zero opinions like that. But I liked listening to Niamh’s opinions and telling her when they sounded impossible. (Less often than one might expect.) I laughed the whole night. At Niamh. And her straight-faced opinions and strange pronouncements. At the way she lets the whole world get under her skin. I never laugh that much. Niamh never laughs at all, apparently, but I still think she had a good time. She kept sitting there with me, when she could have asked me to take her home. Morgana knows Niamh wouldn’t spend a minute in anyone’s company just to be polite. We turn off the main road onto the sleepy little lane that leads to Watford, leaving the noise and traffic behind us. “I was right about your hair,” I say, to break the silence. And also to punish Niamh for the silence, I suppose. “It’s none of your business,” she replies. “And yet, you did get the haircut I suggested . . .” “I’ve had this haircut before, Agatha.” “. . . and I was right about it.” She pulls her eyebrows down so far that they disappear behind her sunglasses. “Is it important for you to be right?” “Not usually. But about hair, yes.” “It’s more...