Page 35 of Fall With Me
I’m grinning, though Dawson can’t see it. “You’re very welcome.”
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at five-thirty.”
I scoff. “What if I wanted to drive? You didn’t even ask.”
Dawson’s apologetic when he says, “Sorry. Would you like to pick me up instead?”
I like giving him attitude. “Nah, I’ll be waiting for my chariot to arrive.”
“Done. Anything else?”
Yes, actually. “I’d like to propose a bet.” The planning itself is fun, but I want Dawson to enjoy the process too. Rather, I want him to think of me as a friend (like I do) at the end of this. I can’t imagine not talking to him ever again after the festival. I like Dawson too much to say goodbye forever.
“Of course you do,” he deadpans.
“Hey, now. If you don’t want to do this, I’llaccept the win now.”
“Lay it on me.”
“If I get all my tasks for the festival done first, you have to make me nachos.”
“And if I finish first?”
“Then I’ll help you rake leaves in November.” I kind of want to be there anyway to jump in the massive pile.
“No.”
“Just like that, no? Where’s the counteroffer?”
“There isn’t one, because we aren’t placing a bet.”
“Agh, my meat needs to get in the freezer before it goes bad. Hope your cooking skills are in tip-top shape. You’re going to need them! Bye, Dawson!”
Pulling my phone away from my ear, Dawson’s voice is faint, but I hear him say, “I didn’t agree to this, Chloe!”
Either way the bet goes, I win. With yummy food or playing in the leaves.
I can’t wait for my nachos.
Chapter 17
Chloe
I’m not a huge fan of winding roads. Normally they give me a headache, but today they are stirring my stomach like a witch brewing a potion. The leaves are starting to turn orange and red, and while they provide a pretty distraction, it’s not entirely helping.
I’m sitting in Dawson’s front passenger seat, looking straight ahead, drawing in slow controlled breaths. It’s taking everything in me not to spew in Dawson’s car, which doesnotlook like a typical family vehicle. I’m not sure of the car’s age, but based on the shiny leather, clean carpet, and dust-free dashboard, I’d say it’s either new or Dawson keeps his car as clean as his house. I don’t know why I pictured goldfish crushed into the floor and wrappers everywhere, but I did.
“Remind me what activities we need to have room for at the venue we choose?” Dawson asks.
“I won’t have a finalized list until after we go to Cornbelly’s and see what they have. But I’m thinking a craft station forkids. Space for the food trucks. The caramel apple bar, ring toss, pumpkin bowling, darts or archery depending on what we can find, pin the feather on the turkey, and a basketball shootout. Oh, and I’d also like to have lawn games like cornhole and ladder ball.”
Dawson maneuvers us around the biggest S-curve of the drive. My head goes woozy and my stomach roils.Please don’t barf.
“How much space does this group site have? I’m worried that with everything we have planned, it won’t be enough.”
“That’s why we’re checking it out.”
Dawson swerves to avoid hitting a biker on a blind curve.
