Page 19 of 6 Clues Your Nemesis Loves You

I grind my teeth.

Seeing them here isn’t odd. It’s a Saturday. Windfall’s central grassy square is always filled with loungers and readers and play-with-their-doggers on sunny Saturdays. Or in my case, uncles who pose for their art-obsessed nephews so their parents can bang. While Maggie has every right to enjoy Windfall’s popular park, seeing her irks me, as it has every time I’ve glimpsed her since our near-death elevator incident.

During the past four days, we’ve acknowledged each other on the street or in Duke’s Market, trading tentative smiles and waves, but we haven’t spoken directly.

I blame her relationship status.

While petrifying, our time in that elevator kicked my Maggie interest into overdrive. I want to know the nitty-gritty on why she’s afraid of me and apparently of herself. I’m worried about whatever happened with her sister that fateful night. I also get the feeling she’s hiding deeper truths from me, like she seemed to be during high school. Aside from those mysteries, I keep replaying Maggie’s important confession about us getting off together, that it was the hottest thing she’d ever done.

I have to agree with that statement.

Not only was the act itself mind-blowing, the sensual moment was the result of months of flirting, teasing, wondering. I’ve been with women since her. Actually kissed and touched them and had penetrative sex, but that night was the most erotic experience of my life. But Maggie’s in a committed relationship. Her choice of boyfriend confounds me. Not even Delilah thinks the limp-shaker is good for her, but this is Maggie’s life, and I’m not a cheater or a relationship-ruiner. So I’ve kept my distance.

Doesn’t mean I like their relationship shoved in my face.

She pauses from reading her book, glances at Harrison, and gives him the polite smile she perfected in high school. Collected and distant. Painfully serene. At our pond, her smiles were wild and brimming. The few times I’ve made her laugh since returning to Windfall, she unleashed her electric smile, followed quickly by schooled features or a hand covering the unabashed reaction. All Harrison gets is a veneer.

Max is still intent on my portrait. I try to focus on him, but yeah. Five guesses on how that’s going. Maggie’s attention leaves Harrison, roaming the groups dotting the square. Her lazy gaze passes a doodle-something dog chewing a bone and the yo-yo player knocking out cool tricks, then her eyes land on me.

A small hitch of her shoulders.

A slight parting of her lips, which she then bites.

Honestly. Forget confusing. Maggie’s more complicated than twelfth-grade calculus. How can she be so affected by me, bite her lip like that, while lounging with Mr. The World is Flat?

I tear my gaze away and heave out a sigh. I remind myself Maggie’s decisions are hers to make, even if they suck. I force my attention on a boring lamppost, but the posts aren’t mundane. The straw-stuffed dolls from the Scarecrow Scavenger Hunt have been replaced by ghouls and skeletons for this year’s inaugural Blood and Guts Festival—Windfall quirkiness at its finest.

Aside from its vibrant arts scene, equestrian facilities, and picture-book charm, Windfall is known for fun festivals and for growing exceptional beets. Ruby Queens, in particular, are widely cultivated, deep red in color, and bursting with flavor. They’re also excellent at staining things blood red.

If I had to guess, I’d say Maggie’s responsible for next week’s Blood and Guts Festival, where townsfolk will try their hands at using ground-up beets and beet juice to create grisly scenes and half-dead bodies. She had a secret love of B-horror movies in high school. It’s a clever way to ring in Halloween while promoting area farmers. Another feather in her cap as one of the town’s event coordinators. I, however, am not supposed to know she loves B-horror movies. I’m supposed to pretend we never whispered secrets to each other while swimming in the dark.

I haven’t given the festival much thought. My waking moments have been consumed with work and my father’s unanswered text. But taking part in the ghoulish festivities could be a fun distraction. Maggie will no doubt be at the event she planned, but I can’t let her appearances stop me from participating in an awesomely gory spectacle.

I nod to Max. “How do you feel about intestines?”

He scrunches his adorable face. “What?”

I gesture to the bloody skeleton. “The Blood and Guts Festival. First prize for the best beet-inspired bloody tableau is an all-you-can-eat dinner at Smash Shack. Which means bottomless milkshakes, and I have a killer idea.”

“Yes.” He clutches his pencil, his eyes wide with excitement. “Can Dad help too? And Uncle E? And I wanna be bloodied, but I wanna do the art for it too.”

“Well, I’m the lead designer. You’ll have to fill out an application.”

The tips of his ears burn red, mischief sparking in his dark eyes. “Is it a…” He presses his lips tighter, his whole face twinkling. “A hipster application?” A giggle slips out, rolling into a full-blown laugh attack.

My fucking family. They for sure put him up to this, told him to slip in a hipster crack when opportunity struck.

I try to give him my stern face, but he’s too cute, doubled over in hysterics. “Just for that, I’m taking you to the vegan restaurant for lunch instead of the Smash Shack. You’ll be having brussels sprouts.”

He laughs harder, hugging his stomach, barely squeaking out the words, “Vegan…is…hipster.”

Goddamn it. I tug out a handful of grass and attack, getting him in a good headlock and shoving grass down his shirt as he cracks up and squeals and flails. When I’m worried he’ll pee his pants, I kiss his head and release him.

I glance at Maggie, forever tuned-in to Ms. Confounding, and guess who’s watching me win Uncle of the Year? She’s beaming her vivacious grin at me, the one full of joy and laughter. Quickly, she frowns and shoves her book in front of her face, but her eyes betray her. She peeks at me again, the corner of her lips twitching.

Goddamn, this woman.

“I am not a hipster,” I tell Max sternly, “but we are going to create an awesome gory scene for the festival.”