14. Sutton
Sutton
Hunter’s hand finds mine as we step out of his truck, his thumb brushing once across my knuckles like he’s testing whether my hand in his is real.
For years, we’ve stood on the edge of being something more, the timing never right, pieces always missing. But tonight is different. Tonight, the distance between what we’ve been and what we’ve wanted to be finally disappears.
Standing in front of the costume shop, I’m even more aware of how close he is, how the weight of his gaze makes my pulse race and breathing to accelerate.
“Alright,” Hunter says with a grin, swinging the shop door open. “Let’s do this.”
I step inside, the bright lights of the store illuminating rows of outlandish costumes and props.
The smells of plastic and musty fabric fill the air, and I immediately feel like a kid again.
A motion-activated monster lets out a shriek from somewhere near the register, and I jump.
“I can’t believe this is where you brought me for our first official date. ”
“This is not our date,” Hunter says. “After is. And you and I both know if we don’t find costumes for Greer’s party, she’ll give us detention.”
Greer does take her holidays very seriously, and, with only a week to go until her party, we’ve got no more time to waste.
I reach for a sparkly fairy costume and hold it up to Hunter’s body. “How about this one?”
He raises an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “A fairy, huh? I always thought I’d be more of a knight in shining armor.”
“It’s Halloween,” I laugh, fluttering the wings. “The one night of the year you can get away with wearing something ridiculous. And I think the wings would look very fetching with your Stetson. Maybe I could add glitter to it.”
He pulls the costume from my hands and forcefully places it back on the rack. “Don’t even think about touching my hat.”
I cross my arms over my chest in mock defense. “Alright then, your turn to pick.”
We scour the racks for several minutes, neither of us saying a word. I swear, if he picks some kind of creepy horror mask, I might have to fight him.
He slides his hand around my waist and pulls me close, whispering in my ear, “You look incredible by the way.”
I blush, smoothing my hands down the front of my body.
He refused to tell me the plans for tonight, so I’d gone for dressy casual—black velvet pants, a hunter green sweater, and black boots.
I might have also paired it with a matching white lingerie set, you know, just in case.
Somehow he matches me in dark wash Wranglers, a hunter green pearl snap, and his black Stetson.
My eyes linger on him—How long has it been since we just had fun together like this? Without the bickering or the weight of the past getting between us? Hunter laughs as he pulls out Wilma and Fred Flintstone costumes and tries to squeeze into the tunic right in the middle of the store.
A laugh bubbles out of me as I turn away from the Flintstone tunic, and for a moment, I’m not here in the costume shop anymore. I’m back in another October, another version of us, when life wasn’t so complicated.
Sutton: 10 years old. Hunter: 13 years old.
“Sutton, come on!” Hunter tugs at my hand as we run from house to house dressed as pirates.
He is so much faster than me, always one step ahead, but I don’t mind. I like running after him. His eyes light up when he’s excited. Luke comes barreling through, his eye patch barely hanging on, and runs right into me, making me drop a Kit Kat.
“Luke!” I snap. “Will you knock it off?”
My brother laughs and pops two more chocolates in his mouth. “We should go to Mrs. Jensen’s house next.”
“Definitely.” Hunter wipes his mouth, a piece of candy sticking to his lips. I smile at him, feeling a pull in my chest.
Hunter glances over at me. “She always gives out soda pops, and I’m dying of thirst.”
Without missing a beat, he spins me around in a quick circle. I giggle as we run down the block, getting swept up in his laughter and energy. Everything is fun with Hunter.
We were so carefree as children, so connected in ways I hadn’t realized until now. I know Navy’s right. We aren’t starting from scratch. Our foundation began long ago when we were two goofy kids.
Hunter suddenly disappears around a row of costumes. When he pops back into the aisle with a huge smile on his face, I know I’m not going to like what he picked.
“I found it.”
My eyes widen at the costume. “Absolutely not. I am not wearing that.”
He smiles ear to ear. “C’mon, I think this might be the best idea I’ve ever had.”
“How in the world does it even work?” I inspect the package.
Hunter dives into an explanation, but the more he talks, the more claustrophobic I get.
“Hunter, I cannot wear this. I need something with more structure.” I shove the costume away.
“Imagine the look on everyone’s faces when they see us, though. Plus”—he reaches to his side and pulls out another costume—“there’s a pink one.”
“Oh my god,” I gasp, putting a hand over my mouth. “That makes it so much better!”
“You know you want to.” His tone is firm, and I know he’s on the verge of being bossy—something I allow only him to get away with. “We’ll win the best couples costume.”
“Is that what we are now?” I glance down at my toes. “A couple?” I’m not sure I want to hear his answer. My fingers tingle from nerves.
His boots enter my line of sight. I bring my gaze back to his.
“Sutton, I don’t care what label you give us as long as you and everyone else knows you’re mine.”
I blush fiercely as butterflies take flight in my stomach. “I might have told the girls about our date tonight.”
“Oh, yeah?” He drops the costumes and hooks his fingers in my belt loops, pulling me close. “And, what do the rest of the Wildflowers have to say?”
My hands smooth up his forearms and over his broad shoulders, linking behind his neck. “Something to the extent of ‘fucking finally.’”
He bursts out laughing. “Well, there you have it. Now we have to win the best couples costume. These are way better than hobbit feet anyways.”
“Fine,” I grumble, narrowing my eyes. “But let’s find a backup for when I can’t stand being in this anymore.” I look our costumes up and down. “Or if they completely destroy Greer’s house.”
He nods, grabs both costumes, and darts off to another aisle.
After we find backups, we pay for both sets of costumes and make our way to Betty’s Diner.
We slide into the booth as Betty herself drops off two waters and says our food will be out shortly—she’s already got our regular orders down.
The food is secondary to the way we slip into a rhythm that’s always been ours.
The hum of the jukebox mingles with the clinks and clangs of forks on plates as we talk.
“You good with going to Big Joe’s still?” Hunter dips a french fry in ketchup.
“Why wouldn’t we? We always go to country swing night.”
“Because”—his foot nudges mine under the table—“things are a bit different between us this time.”
“Yeah? And?” I’m not really sure what he’s getting at.
“Sometimes, woman.” He tosses down a fry and stares directly at me. “You didn’t like the idea of us being part of the rumor mill. Tonight will definitely make a splash in the headlines if we go to Big Joe’s—because there’s no way I’m keeping my hands to myself.”
I purse my lips. I know I won’t be able to control myself either. Why does everyone have to be in everyone’s business in a small town? Maybe I should be more concerned, but I’m not. “It’s probably far past time we make those rumors true,” I say.
He leans back against the booth seat, clasping his hands behind his head. “Alright then.”
As we finish our meal, I realize we’ve done this exact thing a hundred times—Betty’s Diner, then dancing. Tonight is different. Tonight, we’re admitting that we’re more than friends. Maybe some women would like something fancy or unique, but I love that our first official date still feels like us.
But it also feels like a new version of us.
It’s in the way Hunter’s eyes linger on me, the way his voice softens when he says my name.
It’s not just the warmth from the diner or the glow of the neon lights reflecting off the windows.
It’s the way his hand brushes against mine when he reaches for the check, the way his smile holds secrets we’ve both been too scared to share.
Electricity hums in the air, charging every glance and every word.
By the time we arrive at the bar, the parking lot is packed. Hunter has to park in the empty lot next door. We walk inside, hand in hand. The music is louder than normal, and the crowd is the largest we’ve seen in weeks.
“Want to grab a drink?” Hunter says, pulling me into his side.
“Maybe just water?” I say. “I’d love a margarita, but I’m still so full from dinner I think Don might not be a good idea.”
He gives me that lopsided smile I can never seem to resist. “Water it is.”
It’s wall-to-wall people, but Joe eventually catches sight of us and waves us over to the end of the bar. “Well, howdy, you two,” he says, shaking Hunter’s hand. “What can I get ya?”
Hunter tucks me into his side, something Joe most definitely does not miss, and says, “Just a water for us.”
Joe looks at Hunter’s hand possessively locked around my waist and back to me. He raises his eyebrows. It’s the same look I imagine my dad would give me if he were still here. I widen my eyes, silently begging Joe to be cool and not embarrass me.
“Are my eyes deceiving me,” Joe says, “or did y’all actually pull your heads outta the sand?”
So much for subtlety, Joe.
Hunter chuckles. “If you mean, did this woman finally agree to give me the time of day?” He pulls me closer to him, burrowing his face in the crook of my shoulder. “Then, yes, one of us finally pulled our heads outta the sand.”
“For the love of god.” I roll my eyes.
Joe belts out a harsh laugh. “The writing’s been on the wall for years. Glad you finally see it too.”
“Me too,” Hunter says against my neck, his breath warm against my already heated skin.