Page 81 of Cold Front
Micah scoffed. “Please. My artistic skills are far too valuable to be wasted on a vegetable.”
Roman grinned. “That sounds like code for ‘I’m terrible at it.’”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “I’ll pass.”
“Suit yourselves,” I said, grabbing Niall’s sleeve before he could overthink it. “Come on.”
We wove through the crowd, the laughter and chatter fading slightly as we reached the booth. A row of long tables was set up, pumpkins of all sizes stacked in crates beside them. A student volunteer handed us carving tools and markers.
I rolled up my sleeves, giving Niall a pointed look. “Just so you know, I take this very seriously. Prepare to be humbled.”
Niall snorted. “It’s a pumpkin, not an art class.”
“Sounds like something a loser would say.”
He tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering across his face. “Oh, it’s like that?” Niall had definitely relaxed since the brief encounter with his teammates.
We each grabbed a pumpkin and settled at one of the tables, the chill of the night air softened by the golden glow of festival lights strung overhead. Around us, students laughed and compared designs, the scent of roasted nuts and cider hanging thick in the air.
Niall’s first attempt at a face ended with one lopsided eye and a jagged gash that looked more like a crime scene than a mouth. He sat back, scowling at it like it had personally wronged him.
“This is a terrible way to spend a Friday night,” he muttered.
I grinned. “No, this is your lack of skill.”
He huffed, dragging a hand through his hair—frustrated, stubborn, and completely oblivious to how adorable he looked. My fingers itched to reach for him, to smooth my palm over the crease in his brow or steal a kiss from the curve of his frown. But I couldn’t. Not here. Not now.
So instead, I focused on my own pumpkin, carefully etching the details of a classic jack-o’-lantern grin, while Niall…well, massacred his. Every so often, I caught him sneaking glances at my work, his expression unreadable.
“Need help?” I teased, flicking my gaze to him.
“Absolutely not.”
Despite his protests, I ended up fixing his mess of a pumpkin, my hands brushing his as I guided the carving tool over the rough surface. His fingers twitched but didn’t pull away. For a second, I let myself pretend we were just another couple at the festival, carving pumpkins together, no different from the pairs who were stealing kisses between sips of cider.
When we finally lined them up for judging, Niall squinted at his, tilting his head like maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t as bad as he thought.
“At least mine has personality,” he said, and even though he tried to sound gruff, the corner of his mouth twitched.
And I wanted to kiss him for real.
After grabbing cider and watching a few rounds of the ring toss, we made our way to the Ferris wheel. The line wasn’t too long, just a handful of couples and friends ahead of us.
When it was our turn, we climbed into the worn metal seat, the bar clicking into place over our laps. The ride lurched to life, lifting us off the ground in a slow, steady ascent. Below, the fair glowed in bursts of orange and gold, string lights twinkling from vendor tents.
Niall shifted beside me, adjusting his grip on the bar like he wasn’t sure if he trusted it.
I smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.”
He shot me a flat look. “I’m not.”
“Then why are you holding on like this thing’s about to drop us?”
“I just don’t like being stuck in places I can’t get out of.”
I grinned. “You’re stuck with me all the time.”
“That’s different,” he muttered, but there was the ghost of a smile there, hiding in the corner of his mouth. “Iwantto be stuck with you.”
