16. Annie #2
“No notecards?” Zayn asks, and I shake my head.
“I’ll find you after,” he says with a chuckle, then leans forward to plant a kiss on my forehead.
He looks at me one last time, seemingly shocked that he just did that, but we don’t have time to talk about it.
He smiles, then follows Logan toward the tent.
For the next few minutes, I wander, glad I decided to wear my sneakers.
The last time I was at a pumpkin patch had to have been when I lived in Indiana.
Picking pumpkins and carving is a Midwest spooky season tradition and something my mom loved to do with Cass and I.
Since moving to California, I haven’t done anything in the traditional fall sense.
Blame it on the heat or maybe me just not having time, but it hasn’t been on my mind.
Now, I’m finding myself wanting to show Zayn more about me, about where I’ve come from, and that has me feeling even more confused than this morning.
There is a small concession stand next to the event tent, so I stop by to grab something to drink. They have apple cider slushies, which are surprisingly tasty. Not too sweet, with a hint of cinnamon.
Behind the tent, there are a few benches and picnic tables.
I sit at one of the tables, with my back to the tent.
In front of me is a maze with a sign that reads “California’s largest corn maze.
” Huh. I never would have expected there to be so many cliche fall activities here, but then again, I haven’t gone out of my way to look for them.
People meander around the area, pointing to the surroundings. A few tractors are loaded with families, taking their kids around on a ride. It reminds me of home, so I sip my slushy and smile at everything around me. Today is going to be a good day.
The buzz of my phone radiates on the bench beneath me. I wrap my arm around my back to grab the phone from my pocket. Marcy is calling, probably to check in and make sure Zayn’s behaving.
“Hi, Marce.” I rest my elbows on the table.
“Do you need rescuing yet?”
“I’m actually sitting by myself right now. So, I think I’ll be okay,” I reassure her.
“Why are you sitting alone?” Concern comes through her voice.
“Z had an interview.”
“Z?” Marcy asks.
Shit. Marcy and I don’t talk about Zayn much, because there isn’t much to talk about. He doesn’t like me any more than he has to, or at least I don’t think he does. But occasionally I get confused due to moments like we had earlier, and I do dumb things like call him by his nickname.
And Marcy is the type to overthink something—which means even though she’s not going to ask me any questions about it, she’s already thinking we are in love.
Which I would argue against because most days Zayn doesn’t seem like he wants to be around me. Even though I make him coffee every morning, he still beelines past me. We hardly spend time together outside our events.
“It shouldn’t be long, and then I think we may go into the corn maze.” I decide on the spot, ignoring Marcy’s remark.
“Oh, corn maze? I forgot that we had those here,” Marcy echoes, which is funny because she’s from here. Northern California, but still California.
“Right? Well, what are you doing today?”
“Not sure. Ed has someone he needs me to meet. Someone that’s starting to work with us for the next film. I think he’s a producer or something, so he’ll be my new boss.”
“Oh, interesting! You’ll have to fill me in,” I say, knowing full well I will receive multiple voice memos and text messages after this meeting.
“I will, I will. You know more than my own sister,” Marcy jokes. “Alright, well I just wanted to check in, but since you’re obviously fine and not being murdered, I’ll just text you later.”
“I love you Marce, but you’re ridiculous. Talk to you later.” I chuckle, then remove the phone from my ear to end the call.
After sitting and people watching for a few more minutes, the crunching of the few almost-dead leaves causes me to turn my head to see who’s behind me.
Zayn. It’s hard not to stare. He looks nothing like his brother.
Zayn’s blonde, where Dan has brown hair.
Zayn’s eyes are swirls of milk chocolate and his stature is toned and extremely him.
That’s the only way I know how to describe it.
Dan was twenty when we dated, practically a baby.
He acted like one too, and I missed all the red flags.
“If you don’t stop staring, I might get the wrong idea, Annie,” Zayn says as he approaches. He throws his legs in between the bench and the table, taking a seat next to me. Our knees brush, but neither of us make it a point to move.
“How was the interview?” I glance at Zayn, trying to see if I can see any of his typical signs that he’s annoyed or frustrated. But, I don’t see any. No furrowed brow, no slight turn down of his mouth, nothing.
“It went well. Photoshoot was quick too. Do you want to do that?” Zayn points in front of him.
“The corn maze? I would love to.” I grin, which earns me a small smirk from Zayn.
He reaches for my hand under the table, lacing our fingers together. I haven’t seen a lot of cameras around, but I assume he’s doing this just in case we get caught together. We need to look the part of the couple. We need to be convincing.
We walk toward the maze and I look to my left at Zayn to find him biting his lip. I would ask what’s wrong, but I choose to leave it for right now. If he wanted to tell me something, I would hope he would say it.
“Okay, ready?” Zayn asks.
I nod.
“How hard can it be?”