Page 122 of Picture Perfect

"Sure, why not?" I find myself saying, the weight of my past momentarily forgotten. There's warmth here, in this circle of friends, that starts to seep through the cracks in my armor.

"Alright then, we've got ourselves a bucket list." Gen claps her hands together, pleased with our progress. "This is going to be epic."

“And, since fall is well underway, I say we start there. Pumpkin picking. Saturday morning. All of you. No excuses.”

??????

"Gen, do we have to get up this early?" I grumble, sweeping a loose strand of blond hair from my face as I squint against the morning light filtering through the car window.

"Absolutely," Gen insists with that commanding tone I've grown accustomed to. "Pumpkin picking waits for no one, especially not on the perfect crisp Saturday we've been gifted."

I stifle a yawn, nodding half-heartedly. It’s hard to argue with Gen when she gets like this—her excitement is infectious, and despite my initial resistance, there's a part of me that's eager for a taste of normal teenage life.

She even managed to smush all three boys into the back seat so we could have a "dance party" in the front, just us girls.

The chill of the morning is a sharp contrast to the warmth that bubbles inside me as we arrive at the Kelly farm.

The air smells of earth and ripening pumpkins with hints of cider and fresh popcorn, a fragrance that's foreign yet comforting, and it mingles with the laughter of children darting through the rows of the pumpkin patch. My boots crunch on the gravel path as we make our way towards the sprawling field, dotted with orange.

"First things first," Gen declares, pointing towards the sprawling pumpkin patch that stretches out like a sea of orange. "We conquer every single other thing this place has to offer. Then, find the perfect pumpkins."

I laugh, the sound surprising even to myself. "Lead the way, General."

Gen takes off running, her laughter trailing behind her. I follow closely behind, my own laughter bubbling up from deep within me. We weave through families and couples, dodging playful children and love-struck teenagers. The farm seems to buzz with life.

Gen suddenly freezes and grabs my arm, her face pale. "What's wrong?" I ask, concern flooding my voice.

"Cider!"

I laugh at the urgency in her voice, really laugh. My head is thrown back, my whole body vibrating with joy. When I reel it back in I see Saint watching me with some unidentified emotion in his eye. It sobers me quickly.

His dark eyes are fixed on me, the corners of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. He grabs my hand and pulls me into his body. My heart skips a beat as Saint's lips touch mine, and I'm momentarily lost in the sensation. I melt into his embrace, my entire body tingling with anticipation. It's a gentle, fleeting kiss that leaves me craving more. Gen lets out a giggle from beside us, reminding us that we're not alone.

Reluctantly, Saint pulls away, his fingers still tightly intertwined with mine. "Cider."

"Cider."

He follows Gen's lead toward the concession stand, never letting go of my hand. It feels so...normal. Just a normal couple thing to do.

We take our treats and continue exploring everything the farm has to offer. Including an adorable petting zoo where they let me hold a baby chick. Then, we head through the corn maze.

After a hayride and another round of treats, we finally head over to the pumpkin patch.

"Look at this one!" Gen exclaims, rushing over to a pumpkin that's round and perfectly plump. "It's like it was waiting just for you, Addy."

I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "It does seem rather... destined," I reply, bending down to examine the pumpkin she's chosen for me. It's my first time pumpkin picking, something so ordinary yet until now, completely out of reach. I'm determined to savor each moment, despite the lingering tension that hangs in the air.

"What do you think?" I look up at the others. Dre looks like he’s both ready to get out of her immediately and happy to indulge me.

“If that’s the one you want,” Saint offers.

“Chess?” He hasn’t participated much today and as unhappy as I am with him, I don’t want to leave him out. He's trailing behind us, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, his dark hair tousled by the wind. There's an uncharacteristic distance in his hazel eyes when he looks up, and it stirs an ache deep within my chest.

"Looks great," he says simply, his voice lacking its usual warmth. He forces a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

"Are you going to pick one or just brood all day?" I tease lightly, though the hurt lingers like a stubborn shadow.

"Maybe I'll just brood," Chess replies, a flicker of his old self sparking in his tone. But just as quickly, it's extinguished, and he turns away, his gaze scanning the sea of pumpkins.

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