Chapter Nine
Ready?” Jonathan asks as I shoulder my messenger bag and close my locker. My nerves seal my lips. All I can do is stretch them into a smile and nod.
I have nothing to be nervous about. This is Jonathan.
I’ve sprayed grape soda out of my nose in front of him.
He’s seen me throw up. But my stomach doesn’t care how well I knew him before.
Now he’s something more. And that more adds pressure.
It’s crushing the air from my lungs and making me as mute as I was when we first became friends.
We reach the parking lot in silence.
“Where are we going?” I ask upon starting the car.
“Just follow my directions.”
I look over at him. He smiles. The gleam in his eyes relaxes the tension I’ve built around me. I smile back. “Left or right?”
“Right,” he directs as we navigate out of the parking lot.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re on the outskirts of Hollis, where woods are broken up by expansive farmland.
I’ve given up trying to figure out where we’re going.
But when he tells me to slow down and turn into the entrance on the left, I never in a million years would’ve guessed we’d end up at a farm.
A literal farm with animals, a barn and acres of vegetable patches and fruit trees.
“Blanchett Farm?” I confirm as I veer onto the pocked dirt lot. The car jostles and bounces as I seek a parking spot. “Are we feeding the pigs?” I definitely didn’t dress for that.
Jonathan laughs. “Only if you want to. I thought we’d pick out some pumpkins and get a pie or something to eat while we carve them at your house.”
A smile erupts on my face. “You want to carve jack-o’-lanterns?”
“Halloween’s a couple weeks away. And I kinda remember it’s your favorite holiday, being the day you were born.”
I’m still smiling when we get out of the car. My dread has been replaced with excitement, not just that we’re going pumpkin picking—is that a thing?—but that he knows me. I mean, of course he knows me, but this is… thoughtful. He had to really think about me to come up with this.
Jonathan offers me his hand, and I take it, still beaming. I lead us over to the metal wagons and pull one behind us as we follow the painted signs to the pumpkin patch.
We stroll down the aisles, inspecting the pumpkins. Jonathan places an oval-shaped one in the wagon within a few minutes. I’m a little more discerning. “How many are you going to get?”
“Wh-what? How many?”
I realize that he only intends to get one. “One is perfect,” I correct. I usually carve enough to line our front steps. But eight pumpkins on our first date will probably be overkill. Maybe I’ll ask the girls to carve some when I stay over at Livvy’s. They’re creative… in their own way.
I examine pumpkin after pumpkin. Looking for the one with just the right roundness. But not too round so that it’s challenging to design. Big, but not too big. Orange with maybe a touch of green for contrast.
Jonathan waits patiently by the wagon. I glance at him, biting at my lip. He probably thinks I’m being ridiculous. “Sorry.”
“I could watch you all day.” He smiles. “And I’m being serious. You’re so fricken cute right now.”
I blush.
Stepping with care down the next row, I stumble across the perfect pumpkin.
Literally. Almost sprawling across the entire patch.
Catching myself, I return to it, pretending nothing happened—except I can hear Jonathan clear his throat to conceal a laugh.
The pumpkin that chose me, as I’m preferring to see it, even has curls of green sprouting from its stem.
I hoist it into the wagon, shrugging off Jonathan’s one-armed attempt to assist me.
“I’m stronger than you think.”
“Never doubted it.” He kisses my cheek and takes hold of the wagon handle to pull it after him. My face couldn’t get any hotter. I probably look feverish, all shiny and red.
We select a pumpkin pie in the store when we pay for the pumpkins. I’m pretty sure Magda has whipped cream in the fridge. Jonathan swears he’s never tasted pumpkin pie before, which I honestly can’t believe.
“Where were you raised? I mean, it’s like being from Georgia and never eating peach pie.”
“Guess my parents don’t like it or something. I never really questioned it.”
“I’m about to change your life,” I declare, loading the pumpkins into the trunk.
“Promise?” He produces a wicked grin. I’m pretty sure he’s not talking about pie. I scoff, unable to take him seriously. I’m not used to this flirty side of Jonathan Reeves. He still sounds too playful, like he’s teasing me. Teasing feels more like us.
He lets out an amused laugh and crowds in on me until my butt hits the trunk I just closed.
“You think I’m kidding?” I stare up at him, speechless.
He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me against him.
I gasp, pressing my hands to his chest. His lips brush my ear.
“Don’t underestimate the power you have over me, Sadie Prescott. ”
Right now, he is fully in control. Especially when I can barely stand on my own. I swallow and find my legs again, spinning out of his hold. “I can’t take you seriously. I’m not used to… this… you. It’s kinda messing with my head.”
Jonathan laughs. “I’m still me. I’m just finally saying everything I’ve been thinking most of our lives.”
Magda has left us alone in her beloved kitchen to gut and carve our pumpkins.
Music plays in the background—my selection—as we cover the newspapers on the counters with pumpkin innards.
My hair keeps getting in my way as I concentrate on tracing the perfect design on my perfectly shaped pumpkin.
I push it away with the back of my hand, but it’s no use; it’s determined to cling to my cheeks and lips.
I glance at Jonathan’s oval-shaped pumpkin, but he hasn’t touched it other than to clean it out. He’s watching me.
“What? Do you hate it?” I ask, leaning back to consider the intricate scrolls and curlicues. “Do you think it’s too much?”
But he’s not looking at the pumpkin. His eyes are on me.
“Do I have something on my face?” I know I do. I can feel the sticky pumpkin on my cheek, which is probably what’s glued my hair to my face.
“You do.” He brushes my hair over my shoulder and touches the spot on my cheek. “A little something right here.”
The intensity of his stare keeps words from forming. And thoughts too, apparently. Because I take a scoop of the innards and smear them across my face. “What about now?”
Jonathan leans back and laughs. His voice booming in the room. I smile.
“Did you know pumpkin guts does wonders for the complexion?”
He grips the back of my neck and presses his lips to mine without hesitation.
Instead of the passioned, frenzied, hurry before we get caught kiss we always have, this one suspends time.
It is slow. His lips glide over mine like they’re getting to know every inch.
Every line and curve. I expect his tongue to follow, but it doesn’t.
He pulls away just to connect at a different angle.
Another point of discovery. His breath’s a whisper over my lips.
I slide my hands up his neck, afraid it’ll end before I’m ready. But he’s in no rush.
This isn’t kissing. It’s a conversation. It’s mouths acquainting and inviting. It’s lips whispering, I love you. My heart skips. My breath falters.
“Sadie, you in here?”
I pull away. My mother is standing at the entrance, her mouth ajar. “Um, hello?” She looks between us. “Sadie, what’s all over your face?”
Jonathan swipes the tip of his nose, erasing the evidence. But it’s useless. She knows exactly what we’ve been doing.
I slide off the stool. “Be right back.” I take the long way around the kitchen island to the hallway, keeping clear of my mother.
As soon as the bathroom door clicks behind me, my legs are suddenly made of Jell-O and give out.
A small squeal escapes as I collapse onto my back, kicking my feet in the air.
That was the most amazing kiss of my entire life.
And it meant everything. I can still feel it tingling in my toes.
I laugh, unable to contain the fizzy sensation in my head.
The door bangs against my feet. My mother’s head pokes in. “What are you…” She sighs. “Sadie, you’re being strange again. And as much as I adored your quirks when you were six, it’s a bit unsettling now that you’re almost eighteen. Could you please get off the floor and wash your face?”
I scoot up to sit, not committing to standing just yet. My face is all small as I peer up at her.
She sighs again, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. “I didn’t realize you two were… more.”
I shrug. “And?” I wasn’t exactly hiding it from her. Not any more than I was hiding it from the entire school. Probably because I knew everyone would have something to say, including my mother.
“Um, nothing. I just didn’t know. I’m a bit surprised—that’s all.”
“Me too,” I admit, still floating in my fizzy brain bubble.
“You seem… happy. So, I’m happy too.” But she doesn’t sound it. There’s a hesitancy in her voice that I’m choosing to ignore. Not about to go there with her. Whatever she’s not saying can remain unsaid. “Well, wash your face and come on out. You have a mess to clean up.”
“We’re not done,” I blurt, not wanting our date to be over just yet. “We still have to carve the pumpkins and eat pie.”
“Oh, uh, we have people from your father’s campaign coming over.”
“Then we’ll do it somewhere else. We’ll move everything to the sunroom. We won’t bother anyone there.”
“I already told him he should go.”
This gets me to my feet. “Mom! Why’d you do that?”
“I’m sorry, sweetie, but I didn’t realize you were going to be here. And this is important. You can see him tonight at the game.” She frowns in apology and leaves me dumbfounded in the bathroom. I groan.
I groan again when I see the stringy orange mess on my face. What was I thinking? Right, I wasn’t. But he still kissed me. Really kissed me. The dazed smile takes over my face. I laugh at the ridiculous reflection before going to my room to shower—since I managed to get pumpkin in my hair as well.
When I return to the kitchen, our pumpkins are set on a counter, out of the way, the newspaper disposed of. I’ll finish my carving later tonight or maybe in the morning. Jonathan didn’t even start… wait. He did carve into it.
I spin it to face me and am possessed by the dreamy smile once again, accompanied by the hummingbird flutter in my chest. He carved SP + JR all the way through with a heart scraped around it so it will glow as the light seeps through our initials.
I rummage around in the cabinets for the votive candles.
This pumpkin isn’t going on the steps. I heft it up and take it with me to my room.
I’m sorry she asked you to leave,” I tell Jonathan as I lie across my bed, my hair wrapped in a towel.
“It’s okay,” he tries to assure me, but I can detect the disappointment in his voice. Probably because it’s the same emotion that’s settled into my chest. “How about we finish the date tonight? Skip the game and go to Just’s and get dinner? I know it’s not very original…”
“That’s perfect,” I reply quickly. “Pick you up at seven?”
“Oh, uh, right. How about I meet you there?”
“How’d you get home anyway?” I ask, realizing I drove.
“I’m not home. I walked to Sean’s, so I’ll just have him drop me off on his way to the game.”
I didn’t realize Jonathan hung out with Sean. I thought he was more Oren’s friend. He lives a couple streets over and is at Livvy’s a lot with Oren and whoever else she has over. There always seems to be cars parked in her driveway, no matter what day of the week.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll meet you at Just’s.” Before he can hang up, I add, “And, um, I love the pumpkin you carved.”
“Good,” he replies. “I wish I could’ve carved it into something more permanent.”
I stare at the ceiling after he hangs up, my hand clasping the squeal that wants to shriek from my mouth. But my dad has people downstairs, and that would probably freak them all out.
Instead, I roll over and squeal into the pillow, kicking my feet against my bed. Permanent. Really? This is… forever? I mean, I can’t imagine ever loving anyone else. I squeal again and hug my pillow to me. Forever. I like the sound of that.