Page 7 of Pining for You

“Okay, no wish list. Common conundrum. Let’s look at our context clues…”

I try to discreetly observe him. It’s the most elaborate costume I’ve ever seen, but two elements stick out: blue plastic glasses, and a pair of spankin’ white Nike AJs.

“Hmm. Seems like he’s fully committed to this ’fit, which is amazing. I personally love the AJs, but maybe he’d be into footwear that’s a little more… in character?” I ask with caution. I don’t want to offend her accidentally.

“Good eye on the kicks,” she says, looking impressed at my sneaker knowledge. “But yeah. He outgrew the shoes that went with it, so we got him these, which I thought he’d love, because for real, who doesn’t want a fresh pair of AJs?” Then she sighs. “Ugh, but you’re right. It kills the vibe.”

“Great!” I say, too enthusiastically. “I mean, now we have an objective.”

“Okay, but now what?” she asks. “Like, I’m always down to scour for vintage kicks, but nineteenth-century footwear feels more… rare.”

“Mm,” I say, rubbing my chin, because she’s not wrong, but now that I’ve started down this path, I have to make good on the promise.

I look down and tap my foot, suddenly sweating like I’m on a stage. And then it hits me.

I snap my fingers and she jumps.

“Sorry!” I blurt, a little embarrassed, but also, I’m on a roll, so I quickly add, “Okay, what’s your budget?”

“I mean, not nothing,” she says, “but not a lot?”

“Right,” I say. “So, there’s this vendor who comes to the farm every year—does all this incredible cosplay stuff. She actually made these,” I say, pointing to my uniform curly-toed elf shoes that old man Cooper thinks are critical for “full immersion.”

“Wow, I did not catch those,” she says. “That is a choice… but, uh, cool, I guess?”

I feel her softening a little, trying not to offend me this time. Maybe she’s not as standoffish as I thought.

“Thanks!” I say, following her gaze to my feet. “Took me a minute to come around on them, and my friend Diya had a fit because they couldn’t be less practical on a farm, but…”

Okay, now I’m rambling, but when I look up, there’s another new look on her face… Amused?

“Sorry, back to the point,” I say, blushing. “Anyway, in addition to outfitting a bunch of seasonal employees, she also does designs for local theater, like these super cool Victorian era replicas for A Christmas Carol. With, like, lots of buttons. Spats. The whole nine. But they’re like three hundred dollars.”

“That’s… a little more than the not nothing I had in mind.”

“I figured. So what’s great is that she also does these really cool sneaker covers so you don’t have to drop a fortune on a whole pair. They’re, like, thirty bucks. And if you’re crafty, she even sells the templates for ten so you can sew your own. The fabric is super cheap at a craft store. You can search her Etsy shop, CosCobbler. My friend Cash is obsessed. He wants to be a costume designer, so…”

I trail off before I go on another ramble about Cash’s talents.

“Huh.” She squints thoughtfully. “That’s actually… kind of awesome.”

I grin and dust off my shoulder. “It’s kind of a hobby.”

“Pretty good hobby,” she says, and I bask in the success.

“So, let me guess. You’re a Cancer?”

“Whoa!” I say, as she basks in her own success now. “How did you…”

She doesn’t wait for me to finish and starts counting off traits on her exposed fingers. “Perceptiveness, generosity, sensitivity to the environment and others.”

It feels like she’s giving me flowers, and I like it, even though it’s just a rundown of Cancer’s qualities.

I clear my throat and say, “Kind of awesome.”

She dusts off her shoulder and echoes me. “It’s kind of a hobby.”

Boom. A cascade of sparkles hits me square in the heart, because this is the kind of witty banter I love in my favorite movies—the kind that makes it obvious the on-screen couple is meant to be together.