Page 37 of Let’s Give ‘Em Pumpkin to Talk About
“So we don’t get beaten by an eight-year-old,” Josh replied.
“I don’t plan on being beaten by anyone. How old are you, anyway?”
He never imagined he would be so completely smitten with someone who knew so many intimate and embarrassing details of his life, but didn’t know his age. To be fair, he didn’t know exactly how old she was either.
“I’m thirty-three. But we’re competing with everyone aged eighteen and up.”
“Right,” she said. “I’m thirty-one, by the way.”
“When’s your birthday?”
“October 8.”
He grabbed two handfuls of his hair. “ Today? Your birthday is today and you didn’t think to say anything?”
“Oh right. So I’m thirty-two actually,” she said.
His mind raced thinking of where he could get dinner reservations, whether he could rally Grace and others to join in.
He could get that famous white chocolate Bundt cake delivered from LA, but not until tomorrow at the earliest. And flowers, of course.
She denied him the chance to hand her an all-black bouquet, which sent a wave of sadness crashing over him.
“Sadie Fox, you have to tell me things.”
“I do tell you things, Josh. I tell you the things that matter.”
“But it matters to me to know when your birthday is,” he said. “I wish it mattered to you that I knew that.”
“I’m sorry.” She held his gaze a long while.
Searching her face, he found guilt on the surface.
He didn’t want her to feel guilty or obligated or anything but peace and happiness around him.
Of course, that wasn’t realistic. He had time to dig a little deeper, as the competition started with the youth and teen divisions.
“What do you like to do for your birthday?” he asked.
“I like being with you,” she said. “That’s all I want. Please don’t make me want anything more.”
“I don’t want to make you do anything.” There was a difference between wishing someone could open up to you and trying to make them. He was wise enough to know the difference, and foolish enough to voice his own desires from time to time.
“This is actually the best birthday I’ve had in years. Usually Grace texts, I talk to Stu on the phone for a few minutes, and sometimes I’ll grab a drink with a friend.”
“Do you tell the friend it’s your birthday?”
Sadie’s eyes flicked to the side. “Birthdays are embarrassing. I don’t like attention like that.”
“Okay,” he said. “My therapist always says that you need to believe people when they tell you what they need. I’ve been working on that.”
Sadie didn’t reply quickly.
“What, you think it’s silly I pay a therapist to tell me something so obvious?”
“I don’t think it’s obvious at all. The related skill, I suppose, is in recognizing your own needs and communicating them.”
It was his turn to be silent. He never felt like that was his problem. His affection for Sadie felt outsize, visible from space. She couldn’t possibly miss it, could she? Was she the kind of person who bonked her head on a WATCH YOUR HEAD sign?
It couldn’t hurt to spit it out, right? Once you know you love someone, you should tell them.
They deserve to know. Love isn’t easy to come by in this world.
And if she reciprocated, he figured it would be easier to deal with her return to California knowing for sure what they’d shared.
He’d know he’d finally done it for real, even briefly, which meant he might be able to do it again.
He took a deep breath, and as he opened his mouth, Sadie interrupted, “Oh, it’s my turn.”
Pumpkin seed spitters got two attempts, with the longer distance recorded. Josh hadn’t been paying attention to the distances the kids and teens had achieved. But according to the leaderboard, few managed anything impressive.
Sadie was ready. She rocked back and forth on her heels as the person monitoring the starting line tweezed two seeds from a tray of roasted seeds on the table beside her, handing them over in a tiny paper cup. Sadie nodded approvingly at her ammunition.
She was so pretty when she didn’t smile. Of course she was gorgeous when she smiled, but her natural state, with an aquiline gaze and a mouth that turned down slightly, plucked some invisible strings in his body that brought him to life.
She tipped the cup back like a shot glass and spat one seed back into it. Then she aligned her toes with the starting line, bent backward surprisingly far, and ejected the seed with a loud fwoop .
It sailed over the first several tape markers, and the onlookers clapped. The person responsible for judging distances angled a measuring tape onto the ground, bending it up again at the nearest tape marker.
“Twenty-two feet, four inches,” they announced. Sadie’s face remained like stone, her gaze flinty with concentration. She was going to be just like this for the weigh-off.
Her second seed sailed considerably farther, eliciting a chorus of oohs and aahs from the crowd.
When the person with the tape measure announced the seed had gone twenty-eight feet, nine inches, applause rang out in the hall.
Sadie had the best distance so far, beating every previous adult and all of the teens as well.
Josh followed, and his first seed was an absolute dribbler.
He hadn’t located it quite correctly on his tongue and the distance was laughable, as in some of the crowd actually laughed .
He was glad he hadn’t asked Sadie to film that attempt for his languishing Instagram.
He jokingly did a couple of quad stretches and knee bends before his second attempt.
That one felt right as soon as the seed passed his lips.
He’d perfectly pursed his lips and directed the puff of air to rocket the pip from his mouth.
He knew in a flash that he’d won it.
He didn’t need the tape measure.
And he was right. He’d beaten Sadie’s distance by a solid six inches.
She clapped gamely when they read the number.
The prize was a comically large ribbon, the kind with a center starburst and streamers raining down.
Josh would post this victory to his Instagram, whatever else happened today.
He should have been posting much more leading up to SPICE, but he didn’t feel like sharing this time with an audience. He only wanted to share it with Sadie.
After accepting his ribbon and posing for a group photo with the other age division winners, Sadie joined his side.
“How’d you do it?” she asked.
“My lips have been getting a lot of exercise lately.”
“Oh, because you won’t stop talking?”
“Not exactly,” he said, and took her by the hand to pull her toward the emergency exit beyond the pipe and drape wall delineating sections of exhibits.
The loud thunk of the door’s panic bar gave way to the rumble of a passing truck hauling a livestock trailer down the dusty road behind the Agriculture Building.
A moment later, it was quiet and they were alone.
Josh pushed Sadie against the wall of the Ag Building, bracketed her in his arms, and kissed her.