Page 14 of Pumpkin to Talk About

But the way her eyes have caught mine right now has me bewitched. I can’t imagine breaking the spell.

The night is warm, and with the fire at my back and the heat passing between us, I’m starting to regret my choice of jeans, t-shirt, and open flannel shirt. I’m about ready to shrug out of the flannel when Belle sips her beer and says, “Want to take a walk?”

I peer at the people milling around the flames. “You don’t want to hang around with your friends?”

She tips her head back and forth while pursing her lips. “I see them every day.” Her gaze shifts to somewhere in the distance behind me. “I’d rather talk to you.”

It feels like an admission she wasn’t quite sure about giving, and I’m strangely honored that she’d want to spend any time with me at all. I turn my body to the side and motion in the direction she had been looking. “Lead the way,” I tell her.

We walk slowly away from the growing crowd of people, drinking in silence. It gets much cooler away from the flames, but I can still feel the heat of Belle’s body as we veer closer to each other on the uneven path.

She kicks at some rocks with her combat boots. “So,” she starts awkwardly. “Why do you hate Halloween?”

I huff a laugh. “Why do you love it so much?” I deflect.

“Mmm-mmm.” She shakes her head. “You first.”

Sighing, I drop my shoulders into a defeated slump. “When I was young, my sisters used to gang up on me. They’d hide skeletons in closets and noise-making ghosts in trees. Stupid pranks.” I laugh lightly at the memory. “But I was young, you know? I lived in terror in the weeks leading up to it, and I was always so glad when it was over.”

Belle is silent for a long while. I look over at her, and she’s staring in the opposite direction, out at the water. Her shoulders are shaking ever so slightly.

“You’re laughing at me!” I say, surprised.

“I’m not!” she insists, though her voice is shaky with repressed giggles.

“You know what? Fine. No more information for you.”

She playfully shoves my shoulder. “I just can’t imagine Mike Page as a scared little kid, okay? It’s cute.”

I should be insulted. But hearing Belle call me cute—even in this context—makes my heart swell. We stop and hold each other’s gazes in the dark. For a moment, I consider pulling her to me and kissing her, but then she speaks, and it’s gone.

“Fair’s fair,” she says as we continue walking. “I like Halloween because…” She trails off and runs a hand up and down as if showing me her clothing. It’s the exact same outfit she was wearing for the haunted house, just without the witch hat. “This is me. Surely, you remember from high school that this is how I’ve always been. During this season, everyone seems to bring out their spooky side a little, and I feel like I fit in.”

My chest suddenly feels tight. She’s dressed like this for as long as I can remember. She must have always felt this way, and I certainly didn’t do anything to help make that any better.

“I’m sorry I teased you about it so much in high school,” I almost whisper.

Her pointed gaze lands sidelong on me. “Water under the bridge, remember?”

I nod, and we walk slowly in silence. She finishes the last of her beer and tosses both our empty bottles in a garbage can that lines the path before coming back next to me.

“Why did you leave?” she asks.

“Why didn’t you?” I return. “This place can be stifling. You said yourself you never felt like you fit in. Why stay in a place that makes you feel like that?”

“I didn’t know what to do after high school. Eventually, I guess I found my groove.” She toes some dirt on the path. “You’re right, it can feel stifling here, but it’s also beautiful.”

We pause for a moment outside of a wooded area, looking out at the crescent moon reflected on the river. There are more stars out here than in Indiana, that’s for sure. But the most beautiful thing in this scene is her.

“Why did you ask me to kiss you?” My voice is hoarse with desire.

She turns to face me, her eyes wide and lips parted. I can almost make out the flush of her cheeks in the moonlight. The need to take her right now surges in me, and I have to clench my hands to make them stay where they are.

“Because I wanted to kiss you,” she says simply. And then, because it’s her turn to ask a question, she says, “Will you do it again?”

My breath is expelled from me in a quick woosh. “Fuck yes.” My arms circle her waist as I bring her body flush against mine. Her fingers waste no time threading themselves through my hair. And in a split second, our lips meet.

She tastes like pumpkin spice and hops, and her lips are even softer than I remember. I tease at the seam of them with my tongue, and she opens readily for me. Her nails scrape at my scalp as she tries to pull me closer. Needing me. Devouring me.