Out in public?
I didn’t think about that.
It’s not as simple as just going to another state. I sometimes forget that Owen is famous, too. We’ve gotten lucky when interacting with people thus far. The piercer had no idea who he was, and there hasn’t been any news in the media since, so I think we’re good.
Still, we’ve been living dangerously, and unfortunately the thrill is exciting.
We can wear disguises.
I think that’s easier for you
A baseball cap and sunglasses, my guy.
Can I wear a fake mustache, too?
Please for the love of everything wear a fake mustache.
The things I would do to see that man with a real one, phew.
Only for you.
* * *
“This mustache is itchy,” Owen says, scratching the side of his nose.
“You don’t have to wear it for hours, just enough time for us to pick apples.”
“I really hope we don’t bump into anyone we know here,” he mutters as he turns into the apple orchard.
It’s a little late in the season, so a lot of the good apples are probably gone, but either way, they’re apples and they’re yummy.
And most importantly, I get to watch Owen reach up and grab apples for me the entire time. A drool-worthy sight I wouldn’t miss for the world.
I make a mental note in my mind:Make Owen reach high things more often.
Oh, I’m sorry Owen, I have no idea why the peanut butter is on the top shelf of my cabinet that I can’t reach. Crazy how that happened. Can you get it for me?
And men love being useful, so he won’t even know it’s because I’ve become a little thirsty over him.
A little too thirsty, if I do say so myself.
I’ve never opened up to anyone the way I have with him. Not since my friends years ago. I normally stick to myself, choosing to stay home and paint all day and night. Opening up to someone new has been hard for me, and it hasn’t happened until now.
And I feel like that little piece of myself that I lost years ago, that smiley, happy girl I left in the past for no reason other than needing to grow up, is back.
She’s giddy. She jokes. She feels good about herself. She’s confident.
I haven’t seen this side of myself in years, and that counts for something, right?
Getting out, Owen pulls a hat over my head. Although I’m not as recognizable as he is, I don’t want to risk anyone recognizing me from Leo’s Instagram. It’s a long shot, but it’s happened before.
It’s always weirdest when it’s grown men who decide to ask about my brother’s performance.
“Let’s go, Peaches.”
I tell myself I don’t like the nickname, but I think I’m also lying.
I think I love it deep down.