Page 64 of Fall I Want
She finishes drawing, then carves the heart shape at the top of her pumpkin. She removes it, shoves the scoop inside, and starts scraping. “Not one person in your social circle will believe I’m her replacement. Get real.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Trust me when I say everyone on that island will want to know who you are while simultaneously trying to steal you from me.”
A small smile plays on her lips.
“I wish I could show you what the rest of the world sees. If you really knew how goddamn gorgeous you are, you wouldn’t say shit like that.”
She swallows hard. “It doesn’t seem plausible. Why would you choose me when you can literally have anyone?”
“You are anyone. Point?”
With one swift movement, she flips her hair over one shoulder and carefully follows along the outside of her line. I can’t stop staring as she steals my breath away.
“You have nothing to worry about,” I assure her. “Nothing at all.”
She grins, plopping the pulp into the bowl. “I’ll trust that you know your type more than I do.”
I draw a circle around the stem then cut it out, wondering if I have a type. If I do, what’s the similarity all of them have? Autumn isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met.
“This is my favorite part.” She stands, watching me wiggle it off. Seeds and guts hang down and she peeks inside.
I think about old memories, and how the last time I did this I was fifteen. I scrape the sides then throw the goop into the bowl with Autumn’s.
“Have you ever made homemade pumpkin pie?” I ask.
“All the time. My gran has this world-famous recipe,” she explains. “Won a few state fairs down in Texas.”
“Really?”
“We should’ve bought an extra one. Actually, we can use mine.”
“No, no. I’ll take a rain check. You think I’ll allow you to quit our contest so easily?”
Her head falls back on her shoulders and she laughs. “I was forfeiting for pie. It’s what any respectable human would do!”
“We’ll have plenty of time,” I tell her. “And I’ll make you my mother’s famous oatmeal raisin cookies.”
“Deal.”
Once the pumpkins are emptied, Autumn picks up the bowl. “Let’s prep these, then we’ll come back and finish.”
I stand and open the door for her, then follow her to the kitchen where she places the pumpkin guts in the sink. After it’s full of water, seeds float to the top.
“This is part of the process?”
“Yep. Makes it easier to clean the gunk off. Do you have a colander?”
“Somewhere,” I say, opening the cabinets again. Eventually I’ll know where everything is in this house and I won’t feel like a stranger living here. I find it in the back then rinse it before handing it to her.
“We need a baking sheet.” She turns the oven on to 350 degrees and we work around each other as she strains and dries the seeds, then places them back in the bowl and seasons them. I take a step back, out of her way, watching her float in my space. After adding olive oil and mixing it with a wooden spoon, she lays them flat on the tray.
“Now what?”
“We drink. Fifteen minutes, turning them every five. When they’re finished, we’ll have a snack while I kick your ass at carving a pumpkin.”
“Ah, well, if that’s what we’re supposed to do then I have the perfect beverage.” I move to the liquor cabinet and grab the Clase Azul and set it on the counter.
She chews on the corner of her lip. “What is it?”
