“I’m friends with some guys who own their own orchard. By coming at night, we can hang out without crowds. Or lines. It’s better for talking.”
Huh. “That sounds great, actually.”
It’s also nice to know Hanry has friends who aren’t vampires.
We saunter down the Path of Fall Suspicion for a mile or so, ending up at a wooded plot of land off-limits to the public, if the New Hampshire–inspiredNO TRESPASSINGsigns are anything to go by. I let Hanry walk slightly ahead of me so his brawny body can take any rogue bullets. Apparently, it’s unnecessary. When we pass a side window of the colonial home on the property, two farmer-types wave from theirdinner table, where they’re getting wasted on some kind of homemade cider. I relax somewhat as Hanry greets them by name.
“Any chance you have some of that cider on you?” I ask as my date walks us to a small collection of apple trees in the backyard. “I wouldn’t be opposed to drunkenly falling off a ladder and having you catch me.”
“That’s funny,” says Hanry.
I side-eye him. “Who’s joking? I might be into playing the damsel in distress.”
“Then I should warn you,” he says. “I might find it funny to fake out catching you and let you fall.”
“Wow. You’re an asshole,” I say, undeterred.
“I’d regret it afterward,” he laughs. “How about this—I’ll go up the ladder first. That way you won’t have to worry about me pranking you.”
“Nuh-uh,” I say. “You don’t need a ladder. You’re basically the height of a tree already. And if this is too easy, it won’t be any fun. I nominate myself apple acquirer.”
“All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Hanry hands me an apple picker and, with his freed left hand, casually lifts a metal ladder. Just like that, we’re off, and we settle into a rhythm as smooth as the moonlight. I pluck an apple and toss it to Hanry, who catches it deftly, adding it to his jute bag. I begin throwing them at more difficult angles. Nine times out of ten, Hanry manages to catch them anyway. His bag fills up gradually, to the point where he looks like a lumberjack Santa, only hotter.
“So tell me about yourself,” says Hanry.
I guess the silence was growing awkward. Crap. I hate being asked to talk about myself. I’d prefer a nice, obvious, basic question.
“What do you want to know?” I ask, pushing my hand back into the leaves of the apple tree.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to offend you. I thought… Well, we agreed this is a date,” Hanry says. “That’s like the first thing you say on a date. Isn’t it?”
“If that’s what you think, then you should go first.” Ha, takethat. “Do you have family around here?”
“More or less. They’re alive and kicking.”
“They on that healthy-lifestyle train? Or are they on the kicking-their-legs-to-stay-afloat train?”
I toss a new apple to Hanry, who catches it with an easy smile. “More like ‘kicking’ as in strong-willed and aggressive toward… uh, people. They’re unhinged and undisciplined.”
Oh.ThatI can understand.
“I also have a brother,” he adds. “Kind of.”
I pause before plucking my next apple. Something in his tone makes me pay attention. “Half brother?” I ask.
“Yeah, something like that. He didn’t grow up with me, though I see him sometimes. My parents kind of pretend he isn’t… family. They’ve never treated me that way, so… I don’t know. I guess I feel bad about it? It’s complicated.”
“I get it.” Sensing his discomfort, I yank the fruit off and add, “My family’s complicated too.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Very. I never met my dad, my mom’s been AWOL for years, and my grandma was deranged. You know what’s worse? She’s still trying to make me in her image from beyond the grave.” I stare up at the sky pointedly. If you have anything to say to that, Grandma, now’s your chance.
Nope? Didn’t think so.
“Was she a wedding planner too?” asks Hanry.
