When we make it to the back, Korie suddenly stops, eyes going impossibly wide. “Ooooh!”
I follow their line of sight.
There’s a little DIY station set up in one corner, empty glass containers, scoops, and bins filled with tiny colored soy wax pellets in every shade you can think of.
Korie turns to me, hands clasped. “Let’s do it. Please! I’ll pay.”
I scoff immediately. “You will not.”
They blink. “Holden—”
“Nope. I asked you out, remember?” I say, lifting a brow. “This is my thing. If my date wants to make candles, then we’re making candles.”
Korie opens their mouth as if they’re going to argue, then closes it again, smiling instead. “Okay. Fine. But I’m picking my colors.”
“Deal.”
We each grab one of the tall glass containers and follow the instructions for inserting the wicks, then move down the line, scooping different colored pellets inside. It’s weirdly fun to see what combinations we can come up with.
A little overwhelming too. There are too many options.
“What even smells good together?” I mutter, hovering over a bin labeled Citrus Cove.
Korie doesn’t hear me, too busy dumping a scoop of bright pink into their already half-full container. It’s a mess of yellows, blues, reds, and greens—no pattern or plan, just whatever catches their attention.
Which, honestly, suits them.
I shake my head, smiling to myself, and go a different route. I reach for the greens, adding a couple of different shades. Then browns, aiming for warmer tones. Something a little more… grounded. The scents I pick are woodsy and fresh, reminding me of the outdoors.
We move down the station together, occasionally bumping elbows and comparing progress. When we’re done, we hold them up.
“Yours looks exactly how I expected,” Korie says, holding back a laugh.
“Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“Um. Yes?”
I snort out a laugh.
At the end, there’s a small display of charms that clip onto the top of the containers. Korie immediately zeroes in on them.
“Oh my God. These are so cute.” They pick through the selection carefully, then hold up two.
“This one’s me,” they say, tapping the sun charm. Then they hand me the mountain. “This one’s you.”
I turn it over in my fingers. The price tag makes my eyes bulge, but I don’t care.
We clip them onto the tops before choosing lids, and I pay before Korie pulls something sneaky and beats me to it. They would.
When we step back out into the evening air, I’m holding the small box with both of our candles tucked inside. Korie circles around to my other side, chewing their lip as they hesitate. When our hands bump, they slip their hand into mine again.
My feet stumble a little.
“This okay still?” they ask, softer now.
Something in my chest tightens… or loosens. I’m not sure which. Fuck.
“Yeah,” I say, a little too quickly. “Yeah, it is.”
