Chapter 26 #2
We reach the thicket of blackberry vines, and I see why she told me to wear sneakers because the prickly brambles extend all the way to the ground.
Alongside the berry patch is a worn path through the short, dry grass, either from animals or people who come here to pick.
Growing from the center of the thicket are tall alders and cottonwoods casting welcome stripes of shade.
Charlotte edges in close to the vines and loops her arm under the bucket’s handle so she can drop blackberries in with both hands. I copy her, and over the distant hush of the river comes the tap, thunk of the berries hitting the bottom of our buckets.
“Boxcar Doves is going to play at Harker’s Open Mic this fall.”
“What’s Harker’s?” I scan my section of prickles for ripe berries.
“An all-ages music club in Sunbeam.” She pops a berry into her mouth and hums. “Remember those two guys my dad introduced me to at the Christmas party? One of them listened to our demo. Encouraged us to sign up.”
“Are you excited?”
She releases a nervous huff. “At least it’s only three songs.”
“Which ones?”
“We haven’t completely decided, but for sure ‘Smoke and Mirrors,’ and ‘Nesting Box.’”
“Have I heard ‘Smoke and Mirrors?’”
She scrunches one eye as she thinks. “No. It’s new.”
“Sing it for me.”
She scoffs.
I elbow her in the bicep. “Come on, it’s just us.”
“Are you gonna sing backup?” She cocks her hip.
I laugh at her sass. “You would not want that, trust me.”
“I’ll think about it.” She moves past me, plucking a berry from a vine down low. “Here,” she says, and offers it to me.
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t give me a sour one.”
She pops it in her mouth. “Mmm, perfect,” she says to rub it in.
“Hey!” I cry.
“You gonna trust me next time?”
“Maybe.”
She grabs another berry from a vine out of sight and turns to me, her eyes shaded by her hat but a hint of a smile on her lips. “It’s a good one, promise.”
I open my mouth and she drops the berry in. The sweetness explodes on my tongue as the berry melts. “Wow.”
“See?” She smiles.
We spend the next hour filling our buckets, the shadows growing longer. She tells me about studying for the upcoming PSAT, about the finale of her summer symphony and how the guy who runs it is organizing a trip for the kids to play in Europe next summer.
“How long would you be gone?”
Her nimble fingers flit across the vines. In order to keep up, I’ve had to abandon entire sections. “Three weeks.”
“Are you gonna try out?”
Up close like this, I can see each tiny freckle scattered across her nose.
“I have until February to decide, but I might as well audition. For the experience.”
We talk about football and how this is Theo’s last year while my bucket grows heavy and the heat of the afternoon softens, the sky turning a deeper blue.
Theo’s been promised a partial academic scholarship to Western, but the only way he’ll be able to afford four years plus medical school after that is if football can pick up the rest of his undergrad.
That’s my goal this year. Make him shine so they won’t be able to resist.
“Here’s a good one,” I say as the berry in my fingers falls from the vine with only the slightest tug—a surefire sign that it’s perfectly ripe.
I pinch it between my purple-stained fingers and offer it. She leans sideways and opens her mouth. Her hat is tipped back, revealing her inquisitive eyes. As she lets me drop the berry on her tongue, I savor the little moan of pleasure and her easy smile.
“Yum,” she says.
“You’ve got, um…” I shift my bucket handle to my left hand so I can point at her cheek. “Purple there.”
She cracks a mischievous grin. “Is it bothering you, QB?”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Definitely not.” In fact, it’s cute as hell.
Her tongue slides toward where I pointed, but she’s not going be able to reach the place. “Where?”
Laughing, I touch the place just above her cheekbone with the tip of my thumb. “There. ”
To my surprise, she swipes my cheek with her finger, then laughs. “There, now we match.”
“Hey!” I try to rub it off, but my fingers are almost black, and my attempt just makes Charlotte laugh.
So I grab a berry and squish it on her chin.
Her eyes widen in shock, and I have to clutch my stomach I’m laughing so hard. Which makes me miss her reaching into her bucket and throwing a berry at my face. For someone who sucks at sports, her aim is dead on, nailing me below my eye. It must be a really ripe one because it explodes on my skin.
“You mess with the bull, sweetheart, you get the horns. Is that what you want?” I wipe what I can with the edge of my thumb, then suck on it, never taking my eyes off her.
A surprise flash of heat flickers in her gaze and a pink blush colors her freckled cheeks.
We stare at each other for a tense moment, my heart pounding and a painful ache starting to pulse through my core.
Shit. I called her sweetheart again.
But I think she liked it. That, or watching me suck my finger clean.
Fuck. Me.
Charlotte sprints past me, laughing. “Gotta catch me first!”