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“Can I keep it?”

“If you really want it, sure.”

“I do!”

“Alright, I don’t know about you, but I smell waffles coming from the kitchen. Shall we go see what our mothers have prepared?”

“I was wondering what smelled so good! Though I thought it was just you.” Drew winks at me jokingly, and suddenly my cheeks feel warm and my legs go limp.

****** After breakfast, the moms pull out two bulging grocery bags filled to the brim with colorful markers, weird-looking knives, and stickers.

“Hey, girls! Come carve and decorate pumpkins with us.” Anne sets the bags on the kitchen counter, pulling out the carving utensils and four mini pumpkins.

“Where did you guys get pumpkins from?” Drew turns to her mother, holding out one of the pumpkins like she’d never seen one before.

“When we went on our walk, we found a cute little store downtown that had pumpkins.” My mother responds as she helps unload the grocery bags.

“Don’t worry, Drew, I got you stickers and markers so you can decorate the outsides,” Anne adds.

“Thanks, Mom.”

I turn to Drew. “You’re not carving with us?”

“I’m allergic to the insides of pumpkins.” She chuckles, grabbing the markers and stickers as she takes a seat at the rounded dining table. Every day, I feel like I learn a new thing about her, and every day, I feel closer to her.

I grab a pumpkin and the knife set and join her at the table.

“You’re allergic to… pumpkin guts?” I reiterate, teasingly nudging her arm.

“Yes. Thanksgiving is hell, but at least I get my own cherry pie!”

I laugh.

We get to carving and Drew coloring. About thirty minutes in, I decide to check out what Drew is drawing on hers. It looks like a burnt cockroach doing a backflip.

“Hey, what is that?” I point to her pumpkin, tracing the outline of the creature.

“It’s a black cat!” She exclaims, smiling proudly and holding up her creation.

“Oh. It's definitely… a black something.” I return a sarcastic smile.

“Hey! I’m not the artist here.” Her face scrunches as she protests. “What did you carve?”

“A witch!” I turn my pumpkin to show her my creation.

“Wow, that’s really intricate, Laine. Did you carve each individual fiber on the broom she’s riding?” Anne notices my pumpkin, turning it around to face her.

“Laine is really good at anything artsy. She has been ever since she was a little girl.” My mother contributes.

“Sheisamazing, I can attest to that,” Drew adds, giving a subtle smile in my direction.

I blush, both from flattery and embarrassment.

******

Later that evening, we all decide to have a bonfire in the fire pit by the docks now that the wood has dried. Drew and I scurry down the hill to the pit, settling down on one of the logs beside it. Our mothers follow shortly behind, carrying a lighter, blankets, and supplies for s'mores. The air is frigid, so I scoot closer to Drew for her body heat.

“Marissa, could you pass me a marshmallow, please?” Anne extends her hand out to my mother as she finishes putting together the fourth s’more. She hands us our s’mores, and we clink them together.