6. Apple Cider
Courtney
The five of us disperse as soon as we reach the orchard, separated by our competitive desires to find the best apple. Sure, it’s a silly little competition, but my competitive side won’t let me lose. We each claim a row of apple trees to search, and it looks like I’ve gotten lucky with the strip I picked.
Just a few unreachable feet above my head dangles a glossy, ruby-colored orb. It’s a perfect apple if I ever saw one and one that will easily win me first place. I make a reach for it, but it’s clear that I’m too short to come close to nabbing it; even on my tiptoes, my fingertips are still a good foot away.
“That’s a good one,” a smooth, deep voice compliments from behind me. I peek my head over my shoulder to see Finn observing me from a small distance away, looking devilishly handsome as always and holding his own basket full of apples, none of which look as amazing as my ruby apple.
“Finders keepers,” I retort, in an admittedly immature tone. He chuckles, taking a few apprehensive steps towards me.
“I wouldn’t dream of stealing your apple. It would only add to your dislike of me.” I trap my lower lip between my teeth, embarrassed of myself and my behavior towards him and even more embarrassed that he’s calling me out on it. I’m desperate to dowse the false idea he thinks I have of him but even more desperate to protect myself.
“I don’t dislike you,” I say softly, barely loud enough for him to hear. I watch his reaction closely yet hesitantly, my insides already doing somersaults in his presence. He doesn’t acknowledge what I said with words, but a soft smile spreads onto his full lips anyway, a sign that I had managed to extinguish some worry inside of him. He eyes the minimal ground between us, taking another step closer, testing my reaction to our proximity. More than that, he’s testing my tolerance of him, watching to see whether or not I recoil. I lower my stare to his chest, breaking our eye contact in a vain attempt to ignore the heat that’s pooling low in my stomach. As the subtle scent of his cologne wafts into my nostrils, an undeniable frenzy claws to find purchase inside of me. When had we gotten so close?
“I would, however, be honored to help you retrieve said apple. If you’d like,” he politely offers, inclining his neck and squinting at the offending fruit. I look up at it as well, weighing how badly I want to win and comparing it to what it might cost me. I swallow the stones that have piled up in my throat.
“Okay,” I relent before I can talk myself out of his help.
“Ask me nicely.”
My eyes dart up to meet his icy blue ones; my brows scrunched together in shock at his audacity. Had he not just offered me his help and now commanded I beg him for it? I scoff in his face, ready to tell him exactly where to shove it, but my attitude is quickly lost when I see the carnality swirling in his irises, the desire in me recognizing the same in him. This isn’t him being an entitled prick; this is a different game entirely, and I’m all too willing to play. I wet my lips and take in an unsteady breath.
“Please.”
Finn takes a step into me, our eyes still locked and our bodies now inches apart, I can feel his breath fan across my face as he looks down at me. My center constricts once again as he lowers himself before me, my heart thrumming in my chest as I wonder if he’ll undo my jeans and devour me right here in the middle of the orchard. Will I let him? Instead, he wraps his arms securely around my thighs, just under my ass, and once again rises to his full height, lifting me into the air with him.
I almost forget about the apple entirely as I stare down at him, trying to read his indecipherable expression and regulate my racing pulse at the same time. I blink repeatedly, willing my attention to the red orb in front of my face and plucking it from the safety of its branch. Before I can enjoy another second of Finn’s body sealed to mine, the closeness of his mouth to my… my feet are on the ground again, and he’s taking a respectful step back. Damn him.
“Thanks.” I press my lips together in a flat line, holding up my prized apple. “Anytime,” Finn’s lasciviousness is locked away somewhere inside of him by the time he picks up his basket, a faux calm overtaking his handsome features that were just ablaze with lust. I open my mouth to say one of the dozens of things on my mind when Elsie rounds the corner to our private row of trees.
“Courtney, you have to see this apple Milo picked!”
“Okay,” I smile back at the barista, giving the mayor a curt nod of gratitude and allowing Elsie to drag me away. Before we make the curve to the next row, I risk a peek over my shoulder, and sure enough, Finn’s icy blue eyes are still watching me.
“Look how thick she is,” Milo praises his impressively plump apple, holding it up for Elsie and I to see.
“She is thick,” Elsie nods, adjusting her frames and looking at the fruit in wonder.
“I think it’s safe to say you won.”
“Not so fast,” I challenge confidently, reaching into my basket and presenting my ruby red apple. Milo and Elsie both gasp melodramatically, Milo clutching at his imaginary pearl necklace as Elsie feigns, wiping away a tear. My apple is not only slightly larger than Milo’s in circumference but a much more vibrant shade of red; with little debate, Milo and Elsie both congruently declare it as the winner.
They both applaud and remind me that my prize is bragging rights, which I accept gracefully. Our baskets are full, and Agnes will be opening the bakery soon, prompting our decision to locate Micah and Finn and head back into town.
We reconnect with the two of them a few rows to our right; both have sizable finds, but none of them hold a candle to my apple. Finn pretends to be amazed as Elsie puts my apple on display before him, even taking the bit as far as complimenting the fruit.
“It looks delicious,” he says, but his eyes are on mine as he says it, causing my mouth to dry, the moisture heading south and seemingly pooling in my underwear.
The rest of the trek back to Havenwood proper was, thankfully, uneventful for the integrity of my panties. The five of us joke and laugh and genuinely enjoy each other’s company as we go. I find myself learning little details about my new friends, such as Micah having a fear of chipmunks after being bit by one as a child and Milo’s celebrity crush being Charlie Hunnam. As we chat and share, I find myself growing less and less suspicious and feeling guilty for even suspecting Micah or the rest of them of any malice. People as kind as they are simply couldn’t be up to anything devious.
“Thanks for the fun, gang,” Finn announces as we near the town center, passing his basket to Milo and signaling his unexpected departure. We’re only a block from Agnes’ bakery and, therefore, only just as far from the reward of warm cider and apple pie.
“You’re not coming?” Micah asks, just as confused and curious as the rest of us. “‘Fraid not.” The mayor answers back casually, his face giving away nothing to elude to the reasoning behind his decision.
“How come?” Elsie pushes, her eyebrow rising.
The action is almost over before I can register it; I look up in just enough time to catch Finn’s blue eyes flicker to me before they retrain on the barista. His answer is clear, at least to me. I’m why Finn isn’t coming to the bakery with us, because of our moment in the orchard.
I shift awkwardly, hoping no one else caught the mayor’s subtle answer in his body language. Although I feel bad that Finn doesn’t feel welcomed because of me, or uncomfortable, or whatever he’s feeling, I completely understand why. Each interaction I’ve had with him has been standoffish, mixed signals, and flat-out confusing. I wish there were a way to tell him that I’m the problem, not him, my resolve is the issue between us. I try to convey the message in my stare but he doesn’t risk another glance in my direction.
“Mayoral duties call,” a small, polite smile tugs at one corner of his lips. This is his version of a poker face, and honestly, it isn’t very convincing. I can see straight through his facade, but his response satisfies the other group members.
“We’ll save you some cider,” Milo asserts, reprieving his brother from any further questioning.
“No promises,” Micah adds with a snorty laugh, earning him an elbow to the rib from Elsie. Finn dips his head in a general farewell nod and, without another word, turns on his heel and heads in the opposite direction. I watch him go until he rounds a corner out of sight, a handful of new emotions clogging my brain.
“Coming?” Elsie asks curiously, surveying my face in an attempt to translate the myriad of emotions that have surfaced and culminated there.
“Mhm,” I nod, plastering a smile on my face that I can only hope is more convincing than Finn’s had been.
* * *
Despite the full trays in her hands and the ample ingredients sprawled on the stainless steel table before her, Agnes is pleased to see us all, eagerly dropping her current tasks at the sight of our apple baskets.
“Looks like a bountiful season,” she remarks pleasantly as she studies my ruby apple. Agnes whisks our baskets away and begins divvying up the apples, selecting the sweeter-looking ones for cider and the firmer ones for apple pie. As the four of us watch Agnes assemble and retrieve the necessary ingredients, we converse lightly, enthralled in watching her work her magic.
“He’s not so bad,” Milo remarks out of the blue, his hazel eyes trained on me. His boldness surprises me, causing me to choke on the pumpkin spice pastry Agnes provided us all with.
“S-sorry?” I sputter as cinnamon dislodges itself from my throat.
“You heard me,” he smirks as he rips off a corner from his pasty elegantly, tucking it politely in his mouth.
“Finn, he isn’t so bad. Sure, he snores, and he uses way too much salt when he cooks, but if you can look past that, he’s a great man.”
I don’t know how to respond, choosing to chew on the inside of my cheek instead. But Milo’s gaze is unrelenting. I sigh in defeat; knowing I’m caught, I tuck a strand of brown behind my ear.
“He seems great, trust me. It’s not a him issue; it’s a me issue. I’ve sworn off men, and I’m done with them.”
“We’ll see.” He winks at me knowingly.
“Cider’s ready!”
Finn
The walk to city hall is quick but torturous.
I had thought about Courtney Berrycloth endlessly since she had arrived in Havenwood; maybe “fantasized about” is the more correct verbiage. But to hold her in my arms, to breathe in her fresh fruity scent, to feel the heat emanating from the apex of her thighs was a completely different and euphoric experience. One that had caused my cock to thicken the instant I fastened my arms below her ass. Blood rushes back down to my groin as I remember the sight of her looking down at me, wishing I had been looking up at her from a much more compromising position.
“Finn!” A painfully familiar voice causes me to bristle, my shoulders physically rising to meet my ears in protest. The heavy doors of city hall are only a few short feet away, tempting me to ignore the call and jet inside. Unfortunately for me, I’m a better person than that.
I let out an annoyed breath, attempting to regain candid composure before turning to address her.
“Hello, Starr. Hello, Soul.” I greet the pair, digging my hands into the front pockets of my pants in an attempt to hide my now-deflating erection. The two women stand side by side, Soul looking as she always does, cool on the surface with some unreadable storm crackling right below it. She’s wearing blackout contacts today, adding to her unapproachable demeanor. Unlike most of the residents of Havenwood, I have no issue with their alternative style, I know it’s a way for them to express themselves. Soul studies me with a blank expression that would make a lesser man squirm.
On the other hand, Starr’s expression gives away her intentions almost immediately, causing me to groan internally.
“It’s good to see you,” She begins her routine, rocking on her heels and biting back a smile.
“It’s good to see you two, as well.” I choose my words carefully, not giving her any reason to hold onto false hope of us rekindling our relationship. My feelings on the matter haven’t changed, especially after discovering the depth of my feelings for Courtney. Starr’s smile falters only momentarily before she hoists it back onto her face again.
“I was wondering if you wanted to-”
“Starr,” I say sternly. I shake my head once, focusing on the cobblestone between us to avoid shining my irritated gaze directly onto her. I take a step closer to her, meeting her eyes now as I lower my voice. An attempt to not embarrass her in front of her friend.
“We cannot keep doing this. Please respect my wishes.” I watch as her grasp on control falters, and she takes a heated step.
“How can you tell me you don’t have feelings for me? After all the time we spent together?” Her murky green eyes dart back and forth between mine, searching for an answer that isn’t there. I take in a deep breath, deflating as my anger with Starr is replaced with sympathy. I now know what it feels like to be her, to pine after someone who tries at every turn to shake you, clinging to delusional hope that maybe they feel the same way for you.
“I’m sorry.” Is all I can think to say because I truly am, knowing nothing I can say will soothe her. Starr stares into me for a few more beats before stepping back and smoothing out the front of her black leather bodice.
“That’s not why I wanted to talk to you, anyway.” She turns her attention behind her, motioning Soul forward.
“Tell him.” Soul takes a few platform boot-clad steps closer to us, crossing her tattooed arms across her chest. An emotion pinches her features, almost startling me, considering this is the first time I can remember seeing Soul emote anything.
“I, um,” she searches for the words. I look between the two of them, my concern growing as I try to guess what could be so important that Soul is nervous to tell me about.
“Your plan with Milo?” I feel my heart skip a beat as I’m transported back to that night at the Grumpy Lobster. I assumed Starr was too drunk to remember eavesdropping on Milo and I’s plan, but clearly, she wasn’t and had shared the details with Soul. My eyes widen as I turn to Starr, who raises her hands in defense.
“I only told her.” Her reassurances do little to calm me. Havenwood is a small town, and private news is never private for long once word gets out.
“What about it?” I try to keep my tone cool as I question Soul; she chews on her lip ring in response.
“I told Micah about it,” she finally admits. My face numbs, and my tongue feels like lead in my mouth as the realization hits: The plan is out.
“I’m sorry!” Soul apologizes genuinely, sensing my shift in demeanor.
“We were hooking up one night after a few drinks, and it just slipped. He promised not to tell anyone!” She offers as if it matters. I drag a hand down my face, rubbing at my beard anxiously. The only thought on my mind is how absolutely fucked I am. Courtney already doesn’t like me, and once she figures out that I lied and lured her here, she will hate me.
“The apothecarian won’t say anything,” Starr tries to reassure me.
“This plan will still work, and Havenwood will still be saved. And, if it does fail for some reason, I know you’ll find another way. You always do.” Starr places a comforting hand on my bicep, but it doesn’t have the desired effect. For the first time in months, I’m not concerned about Havenwood but about ruining my chances with Courtney.
“It’s not about Havenwood.” I bark with disinhibition, instantly regretting my words.
“It’s her, isn’t it? It’s fucking her!” Starr hisses, stomping her foot as she makes her accusation. Courtney is not the reason I broke things off with Starr but the way I feel about her is why there will never be a future between Starr and I.
“It is not what you think, Starr.” I try to calm her, unsure what to say to ease the hurt I know she’s feeling. Starr growls a guttural growl of rage, throwing her hands in the air, most likely to keep them from connecting with my face.
“Let’s go,” Soul says, placing a guiding hand on Starr’s back, recognizing the detonation that is being narrowly avoided. Starr swats her friend’s hand away but obeys, storming off, Soul close on her heels.
My head is swimming as I push myself into city hall, numbly greeting my receptionist, Cathleen, before trekking up the stairs to my office. I take a seat at my desk, letting out a deep exhale. Starr might be pissed with me, but I know she won’t reveal our plan; as desperate as she is, Starr is loyal, and she’d see telling Courtney as a betrayal to me. Micah, I’m less sure about that; the man will do or say just about anything anyone wants to get his dick wet. I can only hope that he cares enough for Soul to keep the secret between them, but if he gets close enough to Courtney, he might feel obligated to tell her. I rub my temples, a headache forming at the stress of it all.
A dull ache in my scrotum reminds me that no solution will be coming from me until I release some of this pent-up stress. I unzip my pants, the thought of Courtney on my mind, as I intend to do just that.