Page 13 of Love and Pumpkins
My embarrassment wasn’t minor; I almost cried after my second strikeout.
I want to bring up the possibility of him moving back but worry the question would give him the wrong idea. Like I like him or something.
“Do you keep in touch with Toft?” I ask instead. Ray Toft was his best friend in high school.
He smiles, and I notice a dimple in his left cheek. Was that always there?
“Yes,” he answers. “He might come by this afternoon. He’s texted me sixteen times today.”
“Only sixteen?”
“I may have exaggerated.” A mischievous grin dances across his mouth.
“Tell me about your job,” I say.
I don’t want to talk about Raymond Toft, or think about Hunter’s dimples. I want to know what Hunter’s like today. There are thirteen years to catch up on.
He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m a data analyst. I crunch numbers. Not too exciting.”
“Do you enjoy it, at least?”
“It’s okay. Good benefits. Good salary. I shouldn’t complain.”
“But?”
“Maybe it’s time for a change.”
I notice his foot bouncing and glance down. His shoelace is loose. “Don’t trip on that.” I point.
“Catch,” he says as he tosses me the softball. Surprise, surprise, I catch it! He puts his foot up on the chair to tie the shoe.
Chloe returns and hands me a coffee cup.
“Maple pecan, m’lady,” she says, bending down in a curtsy.
Hunter looks up and laughs.
Chloe turns to him. “Are you attending the hay parade tonight?”
The hay parade is a pumpkin festival tradition. Tractors will line Main Street pulling hayracks, and for a five-dollar donation to the park district, you can ride. They follow a three-mile-long trail through town, out to my aunt and uncle’s farm. There, groups can take an evening stroll through the corn maze or hang out at the huge bonfire that my cousins build over several weeks, searching the county for old lumber from outbuildings, barns, and other structures. They even found an outhouse several years ago.
Yes, the volunteer fire department is on standby, just in case. The cornfields are extremely dry this time of year, and no one wants a county-wide fire caused by a carelessteenager sneaking a cigarette in the hidden paths of the maze.
“Yep, wouldn’t miss it,” Hunter responds.
Chloe’s eyes twinkle. “I think we should all ride together!” she exclaims.
“Ray’s coming,” Hunter adds. “Can he join us?”
I notice Chloe’s cheeks turn pink. She’s had a crush on Ray Toft for ages. This should be interesting.
“Yes, of course!” I chime in. “It would be great if Ray came.”
I don’t dare look at Chloe; I know she’s giving me “the look”.
When I got home last night, I popped into her apartment to give her the rundown of how the first day of the festival went. Rather than ask questions about sales volume or which soaps were the most popular, she wanted a detailed list of everyone I’d seen and talked to. When she heard Hunter was in the booth next to mine, she asked twenty-seven questions (I counted!) about him and my response to seeing him. Did I think he was attractive? Could I imagine myself dating him? Would I move to Chicago to be near him? Did I think he’d ever move back home? Did I know his sister Joy dated our cousin Glenn, but they broke up?
My head spun from all her questions, and I fell asleep thinking about Hunter, dreaming about possibilities.
