My hands are shaking as I pull the top off the mini pumpkin. I reach in, grab the note, and unfold it.
Dear New Girl,
Roses are red,
And you’re really pretty.
Will you be my date for the Pumpkin Prom
If you’re not back in New York City?
Jake
Written on a piece of purple-lined paper in purple ink.
My brow furrows. I know for a fact I only let him borrow paper once, and I definitely saw him writing on it that day.
Holy shit. “Did you write this on the first day of school? After you asked for a pen?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “I’m a mastermind. I knew the first time I saw you that nothing was going to stop me from asking.”
I can’t help but laugh. Taylor Swift would adore Jake Keller. “But I worked at the table all day. You never came to get a pumpkin.”
He nods at Cooper. “I sent my boy to get it for me so you wouldn’t suspect anything.”
Oh. My. God. The day after we kissed, Cooper had to get a pumpkin so Jake could ask me to the Pumpkin Prom.
This whole thing is so messed up.
“Well?” Jake says. “I’m sort of dying over here.”
Oh. “Um…” Cooper finally looks at me as he and Chloe wait for my response.
I want to go to the Pumpkin Prom with Cooper. I want to wear a cute couple costume and dance the night away with him. I want to kiss him and laugh with him and hold his hand while he walks me home.
But he made it clear that isn’t going to happen. Ever.
I swallow and look at Jake. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go to the Pumpkin Prom together.”
“Hell yes!” he shouts, a huge smile spreading across his handsome face. “Now pick up your popcorn and get your ass up here.”
Cooper slides over, making space for me, and the movie starts.
But this time there are no small, kind gestures or hidden touches beneath the blanket.
The only thing between us now is the knowledge of what might have been if I hadn’t stopped talking to him three years ago.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It’s another overcast autumn day in Bramble Falls. With the end of October in sight, the breeze carries a chill as Aunt Naomi, Mom, Sloane, and I walk around the Lively Farm, where the annual A-maize-ing Corn Maze event is being held. A potato-sack slide, a Ferris wheel, and a haunted house have been set up alongside various other fair-type rides in the big open field next to endless acres of cornstalks.
The whole town seems to be here, and all of them come to say hi to Aunt Naomi. It’s honestly amazing to see a woman be so confidently in charge. Street Media seems allergic to promoting women.
I’m going to change that, though—even if being here has set me back.
While Aunt Naomi and Sloane are in line for corn dogs, Mom grins at me.
“What?” I ask.
