Page 65 of Autumn on My Mind

“Who says I got a maple bar?”

“Me,” he says, his smile widening as I drift closer. “I say you got a maple bar.”

“Come and see,” I say with a shrug.

A gust of wind blows through, perfectly autumn and perfectly crisp, but it whips my hair around my face; I extend my arm further. “Take this,” I say to Dominic, wiggling the paper bag at him.

He takes it, and I remove the scrunchie from my wrist and wrestle with my hair. I bend at the waist, flipping my hair over my head to give it some volume, and then I stand, letting it fall back into place. I’m able to pull it into a high ponytail this way, one that doesn’t look slicked back. After running my fingers up my neck to make sure I haven’t missed any hair, I turn to Dom.

“All right,” I say. “Let’s go.”

He doesn’t respond. His eyes on me have a dazed sort of look, and he licks his lower lip slowly as the bag in his hand crinkles.

“Dom,” I say with a frown, my gaze dropping to the bag he’s gripping so tightly. “What are you doing? You’re going to rip that.”

To my surprise, he steps forward, closing most of the distance between us. Then he reaches up, his brows jumping, his eyes hesitant as they meet mine—asking permission, which I give breathlessly with a nod. His gaze drops to my neck, and he reaches further. I stifle my sharp inhale at the feeling of his fingers brushing my skin, just below my jaw; the sudden riot of butterflies in my stomach doesn’t go away, even when I feel a little tug at the base of my neck—a bit of hair I missed despite checking. He pulls on it a few times, and I glance down as his hand falls away.

“Oh,” I say hoarsely, reaching up and finding the hair. “Yeah.” I clear my throat, and my voice sounds much better when I add, “Thanks.”

“Mm-hmm,” he says, his gaze darting away from mine. “Where to?”

“Do you have a minute?” I say. “To eat, I mean?”

“Yeah,” he says, and I’m relieved to hear we’re back to normal. “I’m hungry anyway.”

“Then let’s go over here,” I say, gesturing at the alley between the hardware shop and Keller’s. “Sit for a second.”

Dom shuffles tiredly ahead of me, not speaking, and I take the privacy of his turned back to take a few deep breaths and fan my face.

It’s warm out here, isn’t it? It feels warm to me.

By the time we reach the entrance to the alley, I’ve fixed my hair, and the world grows surprisingly quiet as we make our way in. The shrieks of children dim, the hum of noise and music fading, until we’re in our own little pocket of the world.

I hear more of Dominic’s shoes scuffing the pavement than I do of the festival, his steps slow, his shoulders relaxed. When he chooses a spot of wall and settles on the pavement, his back against the red brick of Berk’s, I do the same, sitting across from him and leaning against Keller’s.

“You’re tired,” I say, and again, I worry for a second that it’s too casual, but he nods.

“I am,” he admits. He pulls off his hat and sets it on the pavement next to him, running one hand over his hair. “I think everything’s going well, though.”

“It looks awesome,” I say, nodding toward the mouth of the alley. “Rosie and Juliet did a great job.”

“They did. Rosie will be glad when it’s over.”

“I bet,” I say, because putting together the Fall Festival is a huge undertaking. Then I jerk my chin at the paper bag Dominic still has. “Grab your sticky bun and then give me my maple bar.”

“Who you calling a sticky bun?” he mumbles with a faint quirk of his lips, but he unrolls the top of the bag and then removes one enormous roll, slathered in icing and wrapped in wax paper. He passes me the bag, and I dig out my maple bar and a napkin.

What a glorious donut.

I take a bite and let out a groan of satisfaction. “I needed this,” I say.

I glance up at Dom to find his eyes on me, one brow raised, but all he says is “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Then he takes a big bite of his cinnamon bun.

My body relaxes further against the rough wall, and for a minute or two, we eat in silence.

Dominic breaks it, though, when he speaks. “Oh,” he says, a frown curling his lips as though he’s just remembered. “What were you talking about this morning? You said our parents’ situation had changed.”

I sort of wish he hadn’t asked.