Page 45 of Falling for Autumn Again

“Where are you going? It’s going to rain!” Ezra calls above the wisp of the wind.

I’m pretty sure I can get away with pretending I don’t hear him. Itisvery windy… anyone could mistake those calls for windy howls.

So, I keep walking. I keep breathing. I ignore Ezra and his threats of rain.

Until—

“Hey,” he says, breathless and right beside me. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a walk,” I say. “Alone.”

“A walk? It’s going to rain.” He peers up at the sky and clouds.

“Then maybe you should go back inside. You might melt.” The crass words are out before I can think them through. They are shielding what’s left of my heart.

I don’t hate Ezra.

I don’t dislike Ezra.

I have no right to be angry with Ezra.

But harsh words and avoidance are all that’s saving me from a second Ezra Bennett apocalypse.

“What are you actually doing?”

“I’m checking on the saplings. It’s a one-woman job, so you can go back to your nice, warm Airbnb.”

Ezra groans, running a hand through his hair. “You stubborn girl. That hasn’t changed. That’s for sure.”

I stop in my tracks—because while logic tells me I’m not truly angry with him, I feel it, so I use it. And maybe my anger is justified,because Ezra believing he can judge my character after days of being back on the farm pisses me off.

Ezra isn’t fazed by my glare though. “Why not take the truck?”

My chest fills with air and exits in a tired sigh. “If you must know, it’s been aweek. A long, hard one. I need some air. And I need to bealone.”

He studies my face. “Why are you doing this, Autumn?”

“Why do you care, Ezra?”

Junior Year

Fall

Ezra

I’ve kissed a couple of girls in my almost seventeen years of life. But not Autumn Green. The one girl I'd like to kiss.

During school, we sit together at lunch. We spent the entire summer working and not working together. I’ve spent more time at Autumn’s house than my own in the last year.

We’ve danced in the backyard. We’ve laughed until cream soda spewed from Autumn’s nose. We’ve studied until Autumn couldn’t keep her eyes open. I taught her to drive a stick shift—and made it through each lesson without one curse word. Autumn cannot say the same. We’ve researched colleges, planted over a hundred trees, and talked about life right up until one second before her curfew hit.

But we’ve never kissed.

The thing is—I come with a lot of baggage. So, I wouldn’t want to assume she likes me in that way or wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss her. But… I think that she might.

I’m picking her up to go to the Prairie Dog football game and I’ve brought her a few hints.

If she wants to kiss me, she’ll see them. If she doesn’t, she’ll just think I’m prepared.

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