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Said crowns are placed on our heads. I didn’t expect to be in the running for this when I showed up dressed as a fucking taco, of all things. We’re getting these crowns all because Nicole showed up in something equally absurd.
Fate has apparently decided that the hint of her showing up as an important topping for my costume wasn’t enough. It put crowns on us, pointing out that we were meant to be not only to us but everyone around us.
Fate is being about as subtle as a sledgehammer.
We raise our hands together, and the ceremony ends. As we walk off the stage a man carrying a couple clipboards approaches us and shoves them into our hands.
“As King and Queen of the Ball, you’re expected to continue to show up to the town’s other major events leading up to Halloween night.”
I nod along, reading over the details.
“The events are a cider press and hayride, a lantern-lighting ceremony, and the town’s Main Street Trick or Treat event, among some other things that aren’t important right now. You’ll see the dates outlined on your contracts.”
“You up for this?” I ask Nicole.
“If you’re there, I’m more than ready for this.”
Any hope of secrecy is already gone. May as well roll with it and see where it takes us, fate’s sledgehammer bringing us closer together, and really? I can’t say I’m upset with fate’s choices at all.
We sign on the dotted line, and hand the clipboards back.
Nicole looks at me. She’s trying to hide it, but there’s no doubt that she’s nervous as hell.
Do we really expect both of our families to throw away a hundred-year-old feud just because we have a thing for one another?
Should we even care? Our future is our own, not the decision of our families.
But I imagine that like me, Nicole really cares for her family. And their opinions.
Fuck, why couldn’t shit just be simple? Why couldn’t she be Nicole Miller? No one hates the Millers. No one has any opinions at all about the Millers. They’re agreeably boring.
But she is who she is.
And I’ll just have to face that.
* * *
Nicoleand I arrange to get together the next morning to spend some time at the park, free of the taco and avocado costumes. We aren’t expected to don them again for another week, and it’ll be nice to spend some time with her without sweating my ass off.
I pull up to the McCormick Manor. It’s so much nicer than the ranch house my father calls home. The McCormicks have flourished as a farm-turned-agribusiness. They made deals with all the big corporations and I’m certain Benjamin McCormick, the current patriarch of the family, has tens of millions of dollars to his name, if not more.
Meanwhile? Us Rowdys aren’t poor in any sense of the word, but we’re not filthy stinking rich either. There’ve been some tough years here and there, but Dad’s always been a smart one with money, squirreling it away in case something ever went too horribly wrong. When one of our barns burned down from a freak lightning strike, he was able to replace it without having to deal with the major delays that dealing with his business insurance would have created.
Our cousins, the Roughs, did the construction, so that helped a lot. Family really is important, for so many reasons.
I turn my truck off and approach. I’m dressed more like myself today. Long-sleeve button-down shirt, jeans, a cowboy hat to keep the autumn sun out of my eyes. The leaves crumple under my boots as I walk up to the door and prepare to face the judgment and wrath of the McCormick family.
Dad didn’t raise any cowards, though. I use the door knocker, the impact loud enough that it can’t be missed.
From one of the side windows, I see an older man look through. He sees me, and his expression turns sour immediately.
He cracks open the front door, peering through the crack. “Nicole’s busy.”
Fine, he wants to do this? I’ll play hardball. “When will she be ready?”
“She’s busy all day. She told me to tell you to go away and never contact her again.”
“You’re an awful liar, you know that?”
