Page 61 of Fall I Want
She rolls her eyes. “Cocky.”
I shrug then drink. “I want to know you for more than just a season. But I always fuck up things in relationships—friendships, romantic, even with my family. I’m almost convinced I’m the problem.”
“You’re not,” she says. “I don’t get that vibe from you.”
It’s a relief.
“I don’t trust my judgment because I’ve allowed horrible people access to me.”
She looks at me with sadness swimming in her eyes.
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I chose it.”
“Then why am I here?” Autumn asks.
“Because the universe keeps linking us together. It’s like I can let my guard down around you without worrying that you’ll tell the world.”
“I’ll always keep your secrets,” she offers, not moving away from me. “No matter what happens.”
“Can I take that to the bank?”
“You can take it to the grave,” she says. “And I never break my promises, that’s why I don’t give IOUs. Except for you.”
The eye contact grows too intense, and I have to glance away from her because I’m five seconds from capturing her lips with mine. I change the subject. “So, pumpkin queen, ready to carve?”
“Ooh, do you have a large mixing bowl? We can throw the guts inside, then prep the seeds to cook afterward.”
I open cabinets, searching until I find the one that’s painted like a jack-o’-lantern. It takes me back to carving pumpkins with my mom and sister all those years ago.
“There you are,” I say, pulling it out and setting it on the counter in front of Autumn.
She stops and stares at it. “We had the same bowl when I was a kid, over twenty years ago. They sold them in the home goods store in town. Was that left behind from the family that used to live here?”
“I guess you could say that.”
A gasp escapes her. “It could be cursed.”
“Stop.” I try hard not to laugh because she’s serious, but I fail miserably. “Trust me when I say, if there are any ghosts in this house, they’re friendly.”
She narrows her eyes, not convinced.
I cup my hands around my mouth and yell, “This is a message to all the spirits haunting Hollow Manor!”
My voice bounces off the high walls.
“No.” Autumn immediately shakes her head. “Don’t! You clearly haven’t watched enough horror movies.”
“If you’re here, give us a sign!” I glance at her with a snicker. “Should I say Beetlejuice three times?”
Then, the light in the living room above the mantel clicks on and I freeze.
“What have you done?” Autumn asks, and I can tell she’s freaked out. “Are you trying to scare me?”
I have to admit, it’s weird as fuck.
“No. I swear. I didn’t plan that.” The smile fades from my face.
“Nope. I’m not doing this. We’re leaving,” she singsongs and grabs my hand, guiding me toward the hallway that leads to the backyard.
