Chapter 34
Ari
By Tuesday afternoon, the face-painting booth had become one of the most popular attractions at the fall festival. Children swarm the tables while teenagers do their best to paint simple designs on their little faces.
Wade even joins in, painting a glittery pink butterfly on his niece’s face, and I can’t stop watching. I’ve seen him charm angry parents and convince an entire student section to do the wave, but I’ve never seen this version.
“Mia, I think the glitter paint was a great choice.” Wade smiles and brushes a loose strand of hair behind his niece’s ear before finishing the wing.
Something stirs in my chest. It’s easy to imagine Wade as the fun principal. The fun date. The fun guy. It’s much harder to ignore how natural he looks as he genuinely interacts with a child.
Mia scrunches her nose as if it itches. “I like glitter.”
I smile at her. “You look like a sparkly princess.”
Wade turns to me just for a moment, planting his paintbrush on my cheek. He draws something that feels suspiciously like a heart.
My eyes widen at Mia. “Is it a heart?”
Mia giggles as she nods.
“It’s all I know how to draw.” He turns back to his niece, continuing the elaborate butterfly wing, completely contradicting himself.
And even though it’s a basic, universal shape, I can’t stop wondering if he’s trying to tell me something.
“Okay, pretty girl.” Wade sits back. “You’re all finished.”
She jumps down and runs to the big mirror, smiling big when she sees herself. She runs back and throws her little arms around his neck. The sight does absolutely nothing helpful for my emotional stability.
“I’m going to show Mommy.” She turns and runs through the rows of chairs to find her parents.
Wade pats the empty seat beside him. “Your turn.”
“You already painted something on my cheek.”
“Well, at least let me finish it off by painting something else on your other cheek.”
“Do I trust you?” My eyes narrow, showing playful skepticism, but I sit anyway.
“I’ll be nice. Scout’s honor.” He dips the tip of his brush into paint and then writes something on my cheek.
“You’re writing your name, aren’t you?” My lips twitch. “It says Wade Stevenson across my face, doesn’t it?”
His smile is full of mischief. “Just marking my territory.” He grabs my chin, forcing my head to turn so he has access to the other cheek with the heart on it.
Then I feel him paint a W on one side and an A on the other, connected by the heart he painted earlier.
“There.” He leans back, admiring his work. “Now it’s perfect.”
I reach across the table for the hand mirror and check my reflection. I look like a walking advertisement promoting Wade Stevenson.
I glance at him. “Subtle.”
“Right?” He grins proudly.
Mia comes back to us, leaning against Wade. She points at my face. “What does it say?”
“Ari asked if I would write my name on her cheek, so it spells ‘Wade Stevenson.’”
“With a heart,” she adds with another giggle.
He shakes his head at her, a goofy grin covering his mouth. “Silly, huh?”
“I like it.” She giggles again.
Wade reaches over and squeezes the inside of my knee. The exact spot that makes me jump.
Mia studies us. Then her little forehead wrinkles. “Is Ari your girlfriend?”
Wade answers automatically. “I wish she were my girlfriend.”
His words hit my heart like a grenade.
“You should like Wade.” Mia looks at me, and I feel my entire face go warm. She doesn’t wait for my answer before bouncing away.
I point at Wade, desperately trying to change the subject. “My turn to paint yours.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Do your worst.”
We trade places on the chair. I step between his knees so I can reach his face more easily, but now he feels entirely too close. Close enough that I notice the tiny scar near his jaw. Close enough that I notice the different flecks of brown in his eyes.
Wade’s hands rest lightly against my knees, steadying me. Or maybe steadying himself. I can’t tell anymore.
There’s a tap on my shoulder, and I spin to come face to face with my mother. Her eyes immediately fall to the paint on my cheeks—the Wade Stevenson branding.
“Oh my.” The corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smile as she looks to Wade. “Are you really this insecure?” There’s teasing in her voice that surprises me.
“Or am I so secure that it makes it okay?”
Her eyes flick back to me. “After you’re done here, don’t forget we’re meeting Landrie and Dad at the Maple Bar and Grill for lunch. I’m just helping Carson over at his booth, so you can meet me over there.”
“Okay.”
She starts to leave, pauses, then points at my face, the soft hints of a smile peeking through. “You should probably wash that off first.”
Then she’s gone.
I look back at Wade with a gasp. “You just keep digging your grave deeper and deeper with her.”
“Nah, I think she really liked it.” He squeezes my legs. “Besides, you’re all I care about.”
Literally, the name of the game is that he woos my mom, so his words leave me confused yet again. All I can do is pretend he never said that and start painting.
His gaze never leaves my face.
“You’re staring,” I say as the brush strokes his cheek.
“So are you.”
“Because I’m painting your face.”
“What are you painting?”
“It’s a surprise.”
I work fast because my heart’s going wild with the close proximity, and I can’t keep this pace up. After a few minutes, I finally step back. “All done.”
Wade takes the mirror. The second he sees himself, laughter bursts out of him.
Painted around his mustache are enormous, curled handlebars that extend halfway across his cheeks. Beneath them, I’ve written: ‘STACHE MAN on both cheeks.
He studies the mirror again. “I knew you secretly liked the ‘stache.”
No, actually, I secretly like the way Wade is looking back at me.
Wade
WEDNESDAY passes in a blur of pumpkins, baked goods, and small-town chaos.
The FFA students win the pumpkin weigh-in by a narrow margin, breaking Farmer Joe’s heart in the process. Mrs. Baker somehow manages to create a town scandal when she awards first place in the pumpkin bake-off to a pumpkin cheesecake instead of the reigning champion pumpkin roll.
I think Linda Tolman will never recover from the loss.
Meanwhile, Ari and I spend the entire day bouncing from one festival activity to the next. Together.
Everywhere I go, she’s there, and the best part of the week isn’t every festival activity. It’s Ari.
Which feels like information I should probably do something with. The problem is, I have absolutely no idea what.
Thursday night arrives, cold and clear.
The giant inflatable movie screen stretches across one end of the football field while families spread blankets across the grass. Kids settle in with popcorn and cider.
Ari and I stand inside the press box overlooking the field.
I hit play on the movie—my one big job—and the opening credits of Hotel Transylvania roll, releasing me from my responsibilities for the next two hours.
Ari leans against the railing. “That might be the easiest festival assignment all week. I’m signing up for this job next year.”
My brows lift. “Next year? Does that mean you’re making Autumn Ridge your home? Permanently?” My heart pounds as I wait. Her answer means too much to me.
She shrugs. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”
“Or maybe I’ve convinced you how great this place is.”
“Maybe a little.”
I smile, feeling like that’s a huge win for me.
Her staying in Autumn Ridge is crucial to us having any sort of chance together—something that I can’t ignore.
“I have a surprise for you.”
Her eyebrows lift. “A surprise?”
“Come on.” I lead her up the narrow ladder that climbs above the press box roof. The wind immediately catches her hair when she emerges.
Two folding camp chairs sit waiting. A pile of blankets. A thermos of hot cider. The entire football field spread out below us. Hotel Transylvania continues playing while kids run around with glow sticks and parents settle beneath blankets.
“It’s the best seat in the house,” she says as she plops down into a chair.
For a few minutes, neither of us says much, which turns into a problem because now I’m aware of everything.
How close our chairs are.
How easy it would be to put my arm around her.
How normal that should be, considering we’re supposedly dating.
And how impossible it actually feels.
I used to be good at this. At least, I thought I was. Now I’m overthinking basic human behavior.
Maybe I should offer her a blanket.
No.
Already did that.
Maybe I should move my chair closer.
There’s really no more room.
Maybe—
Ari suddenly drops her phone. It bounces off her chair and disappears somewhere behind us.
“Whoops.” She immediately crouches to look for it.
There goes whatever smooth plan I didn’t have.
I help her search until we finally find it beneath one of the blankets. When we sit back down, I rest my hand on the armrest between us. Not touching her. Just there.
Ari looks down.
Then she slowly places her hand beside mine.
Close.
Not touching.
My pulse ticks and ticks.
A second passes.
Then another.
Then I lift my hand, scratching my face, but this time, when I bring it down, I place it on top of hers.
Classic move.
I am good at this.
She shifts her fingers so they fit better into mine.
I know I’m walking a fine line with Ari, especially when I don’t fully understand what I’m feeling.
I don’t want to be another guy she shouldn’t trust, someone she regrets.
Another Andy.
I want to be better than that for her.
I just hope she knows I can be.