know that. But guys… we’re big doofuses sometimes. We need guidance. If something is that important to you, I wish you’d tell me. I’ll always make an effort.”
But I shouldn’t have to tell you about Halloween. You’ve known about it since third grade when I was Arwen, and you were Frodo.
I nod. “I guess I just hoped you’d embrace the superhero theme of the evening.”
With my disappointment at not getting to see him wearing an Avenger’s outfit, our evening’s already gotten started on the wrong foot and I just want to have a little fun in my life. Once again, I’m the victim of high hopes. Especially when it comes to Blaine Rice. You’d think after so much low-grade heartache, I’d learn.
But I never, ever do and neither do my expectations.
During the ride over, we talk about the team and my kids and everything but anything important. But it works at soothing my emotions and by the time Blaine glides the SUV into the parking lot at the orchard, I’m totally back to my normal self and ready to have a great time. Sometimes I forget to treat him like a friend, and I let him disappoint me like a boyfriend would so that’s on me.
He’s not your boyfriend.
After getting some spiced cider and apple fritters for the ride, he presents our VIP passes to the check-out lady. Some little boys recognize him and after a round of selfies and impertinent questions from pint-sized dudes, we’re ready to hit our private hay wagon.
Blaine probably shelled out a lot of money for this, so I guess I need to take that to heart. Maybe he doesn’t get it perfect all the time, but he’s thoughtful and kind and that shows me how much he cares. Since I don’t have that much experience with men in that way, I probably expect him to behave like a chick with a dick, when he doesn’t think like me at all. He’s my friend. He’s not my girlfriend.
Blaine produces a heavy wool blanket and lays it over the bales, so we won’t get poked. After I snuggle in, I gaze up at the stars. There isn’t a cloud in the sky tonight and the stargazing is stellar.
Once the wagon takes off at a snail’s pace, Blaine produces a flask. “To keep us warm.”
I take a swig and the burn hits my stomach. Tequila. But it’s the good stuff, so before long, my limbs feel languid and loose. I release the breath I was holding on a long, slow exhale determined to let the fun begin. “You thought of everything, didn’t you?”
His words echo into the chilly breeze. “I remember how cold it was the last time we did this.”
Scary music blares through the PA system as we amble along the worn trail. Even though I know what’s going to happen—the dude with the chainsaw wearing the Jason mask—the zombie on stilts—my heartrate still accelerates. Or is that because Blaine is so close I can smell the sexy cologne he wears? I ignore where our hips and shoulders meet as a little wave of electricity rifles through me.
His Cole suit is already full of hay and I want to reach out and start plucking the pieces off of him. Instead, I take another swig of tequila and a bite of my homemade apple fritter.
“This is so yum… ugh!” A little scream escapes my lips when a ghost pops out at us from a nearby apple tree.
It goes like that for the next thirty minutes as we weave through the haunted trail maze with the other wagons, drinking, eating, and screaming like fools. But it feels so great to cut loose and be Supergirl for just one night. Inspired by my tequila buzz and my amazing red cape, I jump up and put my hands on my hips.
“Take a pic of me in my outfit for my kids,” I ask Blaine, striking my very best Lynda Carter complete with head tilt. “We always talk about our costumes during share circle.”
“You should pose like you’re pretending to fly,” Blaine suggests. “With the breeze tonight ruffling your cape, it almost looks like you really are airborne if I take it from the waist up.”
I blink. “But then you’ll miss my boots. It took me hours to find these boots.”
He chuckles. “You women and your shoes. I’ll take one with boots and one without.”
With my tequila buzz cheering me on, I realize that if I stand on one of the