Pumpkin Spice Liars

3. Fall Flavors

Today's the day.

I hate to admit the number of outfits I tried on this morning. In the end, it was pointless as I went with my same black jeans and old flannel unbuttoned over my T-shirt. At least the dark liner circling my eyes pairs nicely with my sleek black hair. It's my comfort vibe -my gothic-but-not-too-gothic vibe.

Still, staring in the mirror, I can't help but panic.

An entire afternoon with Owen. Sure, we're mainly sampling foods for Patch Fest -picking key flavors and things and there won't be a ton of opportunity for word exchange. And yes, other actual human beings will be present. But still, the panic is real.

I tear through the downstairs hallway and grab a caramel waffle from the kitchen table. Even the breakfast tastes like fall. There is literally no escape.

...

Alex wishes me luck before retrieving his bike from the front lot and taking off on our usual route home.

Owen and I meet in the front courtyard after last bell. It's almost 3:30 PM and the tasting is at 4 PM across town.

"We're walking?" Owen asks.

"Yes, it's only at that bakery in the square. You're wearing sneakers." I can't help but look down at his legs and really just at his whole self in general. I'm surprised he's wearing jeans instead of his usual gym shorts. I suddenly hate my choice of flannel, realizing how close it is to his.

"Fine with me, lead the way." Owen ushers me forward.

We exit the school parking lot, circumventing stares from almost everyone who sees us passing. I swear I saw the Bitchy Witches glowering from the bleachers.

It's a pretty short jaunt to the town square -only 4 or 5 city blocks.

"Everything should be ready. We'll just have to pick the palate and then they make all the other decisions like the appetizers and desserts and-"

"You don't seem too excited for this," Owen says, crossing his arms.

"Don't I?" I feign concern.

"Not at all," he says. "Isn't Halloween your thing?"

"Not exactly... maybe. Some parts of it." I shrug.

"Ah," he nods. "And let me guess it's not the fundraising-student council part?"

"I don't mind it, plus I needed the credit. But if I had it my way, Patch Fest wouldn't have flavors. It'd be all about the gore and lore." I tuck my loose hair behind my ear.

"Less pumpkin spice and more bloody bodies?" Owen raises his eyebrow at me.

"Something like that," I admit.

"Huh." A sliver of a smirk settles on Owen's lips.

"What?" I ask, defensive.

"It's just... I seem to remember you dressed like a princess one year. Fourth or fifth grade was it?" Owen asks.

"Oh my god," I exclaim, internally mortified, yet secretly pleased he remembered my fourth grade Halloween costume of choice. "In my defense -princesses were very in that year."

"Oh, were they?" Owen teases, laughing.

"Yes. Plus I didn't know any better yet!" I shake my head, smirking. "And don't make fun. Weren't you a cowboy or pirate or some other outlawed profession?"

"Both, actually. I had to practice for all my bank-robbing," Owen says matter-of-factly.

We cross the street at the corner and walk to the other side of the town's square. We come up on the row of miniature shops that line Raven Grove's picturesque courtyard.