Page 80 of Flirty Fall Fling

“Please, I’m the one who got my way,” I say.

“Great. We’re on the same page then.”

He laces his fingers through mine and pulls me back toward the main path. The maze swallows us again. At the next dead end, a pumpkin sits on a stool in front of the hay wall.

Jamie turns around and pulls me closer, kissing me again. “Every dead end, you’ll get another one.”

“Damn,” I say breathlessly. “We might be in here for hours then.”

I lead us to another wall of hay bales on purpose. The exit is close, but I’m not ready to leave yet. This kiss lasts longer. My cold hands slide into his jacket and under his shirt, causing him to squirm.

“You have icicles for hands,” he says, kissing along my neck.

“You should feel my toes,” I tell him.

I can’t stop smiling, and I don’t try.

When we’re breathless and desperate, he pulls me away. We talk about everything and nothing in hushed voices, staying close to one another, but not touching when people are around.

“Tell me about your schedule,” he says at the next fork in the maze. “What am I working around?”

“I’ve got private readings booked until the end of the season. Every Friday and Saturday, I’ll be doing tarot in the wagon at the festival. I have this Sunday off and another one in a few weeks.”

“When you’re finished on Saturday, I’m stealing you. I want to go someplace where nobody knows either of us.”

“Like?”

“It’ll be a surprise,” he says.

“Even though I’m busy, I still want your midnights,” I confess.

His thumb grazes against my cheek as he stares into my eyes. “Every single one is yours.”

More voices surround us, and the maze is growing more crowded with each passing minute. A second wave of people pours in. There are several loud groups of teenagers and a bachelorette party. Each woman is wearing a necklace that has pumpkins and penises on it. Every dead end we come up to has people in it. Our fingers brush, and that has to be enough.

“Want to get out of here?” I ask against his ear.

“Fuck yes.” He pulls me toward where we both hope the exit is.

Finding it is actually harder than getting lost. Every turn delivers us somewhere else, and the scarecrow we’ve passed at least twice rises out of the dark end again.

“Okay,” I admit, “we might never get out of here.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst place to be trapped,” he says.

A boy in a bright orange beanie pops up behind us. He might be ten years old. He takes one look at us and shakes his head.

“You’ve been lost inside here forever,” he says. “I’ve already been through it three times. I can show you how to get out.”

“Sure,” I say.

“Twenty bucks.” He holds out his little hustler hand.

I gasp. “That’s robbery.”

“That’s business, baby,” the kid says.

“I like you.” Jamie hands him a twenty. “Lead the way.”