Chapter 10
Zoe
By some miracle, I manage to convince Bennett that we should have an early dinner at the cidery. It doesn’t have an extensive food menu, but there are a handful of burgers, sandwiches, and pizzas. We order at the counter, then manage to snag a seat by a heater—it’s starting to cool off.
I can’t stop smiling. It’s been such a great afternoon. I like living in the city, but it’s nice to get out of it sometimes, especially at this time of year. Many of the maple trees are turning orange and gold. I sigh in contentment.
I suppose I’m getting to enjoy autumn with a “boyfriend” after all.
Even Bennett seems to be having a good time. Not that he’s said as much, of course, and his only smile was fleeting—but what a smile.
I found it a little difficult to focus on cornhole after he leaned close and brushed my arm in a disturbingly erotic fashion. I hadn’t realized he was capable of such a thing…and then he kept fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt. I think that was intentional.
Bennett Chung wearing jeans and teasing me with his forearms? The world truly is a surprising place.
“What should we do next weekend?” I ask.
He raises an eyebrow, his expression otherwise impassive.
To be honest, I’m coming to enjoy that his face isn’t terribly expressive. It makes it all the more exciting when he, say, smiles.
“I have lots of ideas,” I tell him.
“Of course you do,” he murmurs.
“We could go to a pumpkin patch.”
“Why?”
“To get a pumpkin, naturally.”
“I buy mine at the grocery store,” he says.
“Ah, so you get a pumpkin every year? Do you give out candy?”
He nods, and it delights me.
“Going to the pumpkin patch isn’t all about selecting a pumpkin,” I explain. “It’s about the experience.”
He doesn’t dignify this with a response. Instead, he sips his water, and I try not to watch his throat as he swallows.
“On Halloween,” I say, “there’s a couples costume competition at a bar in the Annex. I was going to ask Clifton if he wanted to do it, but…”
Bennett’s eyes look a little stormy at the mention of his brother. What on earth happened between them? I have no idea.
Or maybe he’s just annoyed at the mention of costumes.
“We should go,” I say.
“No.”
I’m not even a little surprised by his response.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “You look like the sort of person who’d appreciate being the back end of a horse.”
“Is that really what you see when you look at me?”
“It is,” I say in a deliberately serious tone, though I almost screw it up by laughing. The idea of Bennett in any kind of animal costume—let alone the back of a horse—is quite amusing.
“I’m taller than you. Shouldn’t I be at the front?”
“It depends on the type of two-person costume. I’ve seen a few different kinds.” I pull out my phone and show him the costume I was looking at the other day. It’s a cowboy on a horse. One person is the back end of the horse plus the top half of the cowboy.
“I…” He pinches the bridge of his nose.
“You’re utterly horrified?” I supply. Just trying to be helpful, of course.
“That would be correct. Also, I thought couples Halloween costumes involved people in coordinating costumes. Like, Beauty and the Beast. Or Mario and Luigi. Not two people dressed up as a single horse.”
“You seem to be an expert. Have you worn such a costume before?”
“What do you think, Zoe?”
“I’m positive you dressed up as Sulley while a friend was Mike Wazowski.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Monsters, Inc.”
“Right. How could I have forgotten? Of course I’ve dressed up as a furry blue monster.”
He keeps a straight face, but then the corner of his lip twitches. While not quite the same as his earlier smile, it’s charming nonetheless.
Why do I have such a reaction to a lip twitch?
And why was I so distracted by his arms while we were tossing beanbags?
Before I can make more conversation about costumes, the server returns with our food: a burger and a salad for Bennett, and a roasted vegetable pizza for me.
As I watch Bennett roll up his sleeves once more, I can’t help thinking that this is more fun with him than it would ever have been with Clifton.
Speaking of my ex, there’s someone familiar at the far end of the patio. It looks like one of Clifton’s douchebro friends. I stiffen, but when I blink, he’s gone.
Yeah, must have just been my imagination.
After we finish eating, I select a few cans of cider from the store onsite.
Bennett picks out a couple as well. The store also sells a small selection of fresh produce, so I get half a bushel of apples and a squash.
I don’t think the trunk is very big, but it should be able to handle that much.
Bennett hefts the apples into his arms before I can grab them.
I shiver as we approach the car.
“Would you like me to put the top up?” he asks.
“No.” Being in a convertible is a novelty, and I’m not sure when I’ll experience it again.
When we get to the car, he opens the trunk and hands me a hoodie. It surprises me that he owns something as ordinary as a hoodie, but I suppose it makes more sense than him owning a monster costume.
“Since you’re cold,” he says.
I didn’t require the obvious explanation; there’s just something about the intimacy of him sharing an article of clothing that caught me off guard. Though I suppose he’s already sharing his house.
After putting down the squash, I pull the hoodie over my head. It hangs low, and the sleeves go past the tips of my fingers. It’s ridiculous, but I love the way it doesn’t fit, the way it’s clearly his.
We get into car and put on our seatbelts, but he hesitates before driving.
He turns to me. “Thank you. I haven’t done anything like that in a long time.” His voice is solemn, his gaze intense, and it’s too much. I have to lighten the mood somehow.
“Are you saying we can go to a pumpkin patch next weekend?”
“I absolutely did not say that. But today was…fun.”
“You speak that word as though it’s unfamiliar.”
He doesn’t respond, but there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips, and warmth blooms in my chest.
A moment later, he frowns. Truthfully, I didn’t expect him to admit to enjoying himself, and I wonder if he regrets his words.
I push that thought aside as he pulls onto the road and I feel the wind in my hair.
I’m going to savor what’s left of the day.
Monday isn’t quite as fun, even if it’s a holiday.
When I come downstairs at eight in the morning, Bennett is already in his home office. He’s left me coffee, and I drink it from my llamacorn mug as I consider my plans. It’s Thanksgiving, and my main task is visiting my family.
At eleven, I meet Eddie and Chantal at Finch Station. We take an Uber to my parents’ house rather than the bus.
“How’s living with Bennett Chung?” Eddie asks. “You haven’t said much in your texts.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” I reply.
That seems like a horribly inadequate way to describe the last two weeks, but what else can I say?
“Don’t worry, he hasn’t done anything inappropriate,” I add. A part of me wants to make a joke about how he keeps rolling up his sleeves in a decidedly inappropriate fashion, but I don’t.
“Have you made any progress on apartment hunting?”
“I’m going to see a place on Wednesday.”
“That’s good,” Chantal says. “It’ll be nice to have your own space.”
It will, but I’m not as excited about it as I should be. Maybe because I still have to deal with my parents today.
“What are you going to tell Mom and Dad?” Eddie asks, as if reading my mind.
I shrug. “I guess I’ll say that I broke up with Clifton and I’m looking for a new apartment because I want to live by myself. That sounds okay, right?”
As has happened many times before, my parents will get a watered-down version of the truth. Occasionally, they get a complete fabrication, but I try to avoid that if possible—it’s too hard to keep track of everything.
The time for this watered-down truth comes when Mom is dishing out bowls of soup.
“I should have told you to bring your boyfriend,” she says. “I can’t believe you’ve been together for months and I still haven’t met him.”
Normally, I wouldn’t tell my mother about someone until I’ve been dating him for at least six months, but back in the summer, she’d been really keen on setting me up with the son of an acquaintance, so I had to do something. A simple “I’m not interested” wasn’t enough.
My palms are sweaty, and I twist my hands together under the table. I really don’t want to have this conversation, but it needs to be done.
“We broke up,” I say.
“Why?” Mom demands.
“Not every relationship works out.”
She narrows her eyes. “What did you do?”
Though I’m not surprised by her question, it still irritates me.
“Why do you think it’s my fault?” I try to remain calm, despite the tension in my body. I take slow breaths and concentrate on appearing at ease.
Given what happened, her assumption is particularly aggravating, but telling the truth would lead to too much drama.
“You can be very difficult sometimes,” Mom says. “Like in high school when—”
“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, holding up his hands. He’s always been the peacemaker in the family, and I’m grateful to him for stepping in.
I’ll need to give some reason, though, and I refuse to let my parents think I’m to blame.
“I want something serious,” I say, “because I hope to get married and have kids one day. But he doesn’t believe in marriage.”
“Doesn’t believe in marriage?” Mom squawks.
“Apparently.” I reach for my soup spoon, though I’m not particularly hungry.
“What’s wrong with this man? Why did you date him in the first place?”
There she goes, blaming it all on me again.
I don’t respond. What’s the point?
Eddie jumps in. “Isn’t it better she found out now, rather than in six months, after she’d wasted even more time with him?”
“Clearly, you need help,” Mom says to me. “I will—”
“No.” Eddie and I speak at the same time.
“But—”
“I can handle it,” I say.
“You must know someone.” Dad turns to Eddie. “You can help her.”
Eddie agrees to this—I know he’s doing it to shut down any more horrifying possibilities—and my parents seem satisfied for now.
“How’s Macy?” Mom asks.