Page 138 of Fall Fake-Out

“It’s late. I’m sure everyone has gone home by now for curfew.”

I pull into the empty overlook. No cars. No headlights. Nobody.

Just darkness and distant town lights below.

“See?” I kill the headlights but leave the truck running. Soft music hums through the speakers. “All the kids are gone.”

She rolls her eyes.

I rest my arm along the back of the bench seat and slowly slide closer. This is when bench seats come in handy.

Ari watches the entire process. Amused. “You think you’re smooth, don’t you?”

“A little.” The distance between us lessens to nothing as I move into her space.

My hand skims over her shoulder, awakening the desire I felt hours ago.

“If you’re busy next week…” Her eyes close briefly when I press a kiss against her temple. “...I need to stock up…” My lips brush across her cheek. “...on your kisses.” Then the corner of her jaw.

“Very busy.” She sighs as her head tips slightly, giving me room to leave a trail of kisses from her ear down her neck.

I get distracted by the soft skin at her collarbone and shoulder, deciding to abandon conversation altogether. By the time my mouth brushes hers, she’s smiling softly.

Her hand slides into my hair. Mine stops at her waist, and suddenly, she turns, capturing my mouth like she can’t stand the suspense any longer.

The kiss is slow at first.

And then not quite as slow.

The truck grows quiet except for music and breathing and the occasional bump against the seat when one of us shifts closer.

The windows fog over.

The rest of the world can wait until tomorrow.

Ari

The next afternoon, the Langford house looks like a wedding exploded inside it.

Garment bags hang from doorframes. Boxes of decorations cover every available surface. Somebody left ribbon on the kitchen counter. Somebody else left ribbon in the bathroom.

At this point, I’m fairly certain the ribbon is reproducing on its own.

Landrie stands in the middle of the dining room, holding two centerpiece options while my mom critiques both of them.

“No.” My mom shakes her head.

Landrie sighs dramatically. “Why?”

“Because you said you were going for fall rustic. That one looks summer-ish to me.”

“It is not summer-ish.”

“It is.”

Landrie throws her hands into the air. “Fine. Then you pick the one you want just like you’ve picked everything else for this wedding.” She sets both centerpieces on the table and stomps out of the room.

My mom watches, waiting until she’s gone. “She’s driving me crazy.”