Page 5 of Just Friends

“I was with Autumn and Hannah when the clown showed up,” she replied. “I just ran off. My bag with my phone is still with them.”

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit Autumn’s number without letting go of Rebecca’s hand. He wanted to keep holding it for as long as possible. “I’m with Rebecca,” he said when she answered. “She’s fine.”

“Oh, thank God,” Autumn replied. “We’ve been looking everywhere.”

“I took care of it. Where are y’all?”

“Brandon wants to go to the food truck called Bongo Burger,” she said.

“Sounds good, we’ll meet you there.” He disconnected. “We’re meeting them at a food truck,” he said to Rebecca.

“Well,” she replied. “You liked the sound of it, so it has something to do with meat.”

“Hey, I’m not that simple.”

She grinned at him.

He laughed. “It’s a burger truck.”

Laughing she dropped her head to his bicep. He loved both actions. The teasing meant returning to normal.

“I’ve fed you long enough to know what food you like.”

“I eat my veggies,” he replied. They exited the corn maze back into the fall festival.

“Sure, but if I didn’t put them on the plate, would you ask for them?”

“Uh, no.”

She snickered, leaned into him, and bumped his arm. He wondered if it was an accident.

“We have to run by Mrs. Whittaker’s tent first,” he said. “She made me a scarf.”

“She did?”

“Mrs. Whittaker likes me,” he explained. “Years ago, her grandson had trouble with drugs. I got him into a program that kept him out of jail and rehabbed him. He’s graduating from UT in May.”

“That’s amazing,” Rebecca said. She stared at him until he turned to her. Then she glanced elsewhere.

“Ever since then, she knits me stuff all the time.” When they arrived at the tent still holding hands, Mrs. Whittaker looked up from her knitting.

“Oh good. He found you, dear,” Mrs. Whittaker said. “Are you all right?”

“I am,” Rebecca replied. “Thanks for asking.”

Climbing from her chair, which was no easy feat given she wore three layers under the blanket that wrapped around her, she barely came up to Rebecca’s shoulder. “I have your scarf back here, dear. It matches the hat I made you last month.” She moved behind the booth set up with mounds of homemade hats, scarfs, blankets, ponchos, and bags, all arranged on tables or displayed up on blanket racks. She opened a giant plastic tote and rummaged for a second before holding up a long gray and cream fuzzy scarf.

“Thank you,” he said and hung the present around his shoulders with one hand.

“I want to make sure you stay toasty on your patrols.”

He smirked at Rebecca who looked amused. “I’m not on patrol anymore,” he replied, “but I can still use it to keep warm.”

Rebecca reached up, rubbed the scarf, and nodded. “Definitely cozy.”

The older woman’s eyes focused on Rebecca. “Dear, you must be cold. The temperature is dropping.”

“Oh, no,” Rebecca replied. “My jacket is with our friends, and I’m on the way to get it. I’m fine.”

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