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That this is far too complicated for us to acknowledge.
I hate what he must think of me now. I don’t even like what I think of myself in this situation. I used to feel guilty enough when I realized how much I was crushing on him.
I don’t answer the call, letting it ring and ring until it doesn’t anymore. Elaine looks up at me as if she can tell itwas him. Maybe I’m imagining her disappointment, maybe I’m projecting, but she squints her eyes.
It feels terrible to ignore him, but he’s good at reading me. I am not in the right headspace for him to figure me out.
My phone starts up again, another phone call. Elaine looks down at it first, then back up at me.
She is so much smarter than she pretends to be.
"Stop looking at me like that,” I mumble.
And I answer it.
One second of silence. Two seconds. Three.
“Hey?” My voice is soft and unsure.
“Autumn! How’s it going?” He sounds cheery enough, but I notice that he doesn’t call me A.
Not that he wasstrictlygoing by that nickname, I just think I’ve started to prefer it.
“It’s… going okay. How are you?”
“Yeah, same here,” he says.
Three more seconds without either of us saying a word.
“So, hey,” he continues. “I was calling to see if you were still doing that Halloween party?”
Shit.I almost forgot about it. I haven’t put much into planning other than sending out a few text messages. I almost wish I could pass the torch to one of the girls this year, but my apartment is the easiest place to make it happen. Vic has a nice house, but I'd never even consider asking because her children deserve to sleep in their own beds without being woken up by a bunch of loud, drunk, adults.
And Reya's place is half the size of mine.
Our party has always been at my apartment anyway, ever since I first moved in. It started out with the three of us playing board games and making fancy drinks while we waited for trick-or-treaters to come around.
It’s changed a lot over the years. We made more friends, included more people. We take their kids out on the actual holiday now, so I aim for the closest Saturday that doesn’t interfere with their fun.
There’s something so special about how excited little ones get about costumes and candy. Reya’s daughter was barely walking and talking last year, but we had a blast. She held her hand as they walked up to every door. Vic had her baby boy strapped to her chest, and I got to carry Amira while she was dressed up as a little ladybug.
She got the most candy. You could see every face light up when they saw her.
“Yeah, I’m still doing it. You totally don’t have to be there, it’s not anything exciting.”
I can’t think of a single reason he’d want to.
“I want to,” he says quickly.
I breathe a sigh of relief that I hope he doesn’t notice.
“Okay.”
“I put together a costume. It’s also notanything exciting, so that’s good.”
“What is it?”
“I guess you’ll see next week.” I hear his smile, and want to throw my phone across the room. “Really, don’t get excited. It’s simple.”
