by Faye Larson
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. One year Alicia and I came up on a weekend. It was awful. There were so many people in the maze, we practically formed a line going in and coming right out. We never had a chance to get lost and fear we’d be lost forever.”
“Um...”
“Trust me,” Keith said, “when you’re in the maze, you both hope and fear that.”
Preston turned towards the maze. Looking at the thing, he could kind of believe that.
The maze was situated off to a side of the pumpkin patch, past an opening in the hay wall. It was huge, going from one end of the farm to the foot of the hills a half mile away. Somewhere within the towering green came the cries of crows.
A cool breeze crept over Preston, making him want to burrow into his coat and causing the corn stalks to sway invitingly.
Or, if creepy music had been playing, creepily.
The corn maze was nothing if not versatile.
“Could you turn a little bit more to your right?” Keith asked. “You look really mysterious and hot in this place.”
Preston looked back at Keith and found his husband holding up his cell.
He raised an eyebrow at Keith.
“Ohhh,” Keith said, “that’s a good look too.”
Click.
It seemed Keith was starting his Preston Blake: One with the Pumpkins photo series.
Preston turned a little towards his right. He might as well be one with the pumpkins.
“Thanks,” Keith said.
Click.
If—when?— they ever had kids, Preston suspected Keith was going to be one of those dads who took photos every day of the kid’s first year of life. It would be really cool to look at later but at the time it would seem a little goofy.
Click.
Seriously, again?
Seriously, again. Wait until you see them all later. This moment will live on forever.
That wasn’t always a good thing.
And sometimes it was.
I could take a photo, if you like.
Later. Maybe later.
Maybe when they got home.
Footfalls crunched across the hay strew ground, approaching Preston. Turning, he watched Keith draw closer.
“So...” Keith smiled. “What do you think of the place?”
“It’s—” Awesome. Spectacular. Pumpkin-y. “—not bad.”
“Not bad?” Keith released a long sigh. “I guess you won’t be interested in going through the maze then.”
“Well... maybe it’s pretty cool.”
“The level of your praise overwhelms me.”
Preston reached out and slipped his hand through Keith’s. “I’ll try to tone it down for you then.”
Keith snorted. His fingers, meanwhile, twined through Preston’s. “You feeling up to the maze?”
“Oh yeah. I want to take photos and send them to Mike, who can’t come here until tomorrow.”
“I wonder if he ever refers to you as his evil former writer.”
Preston wouldn’t be surprised if he did.
“Before we go,” Keith said, “I got you a little surprise.”
Preston’s smile grew sheepish. “You didn’t have to get me anything. Heck, you already got me a big surprise; you got off work and haven’t done more than send the occasional text to them.”
“That reminds me.” Keith reached into his coat.
Preston laughed. He had reminded him.
“I have to text them real fast,” Keith said, withdrawing his cell and a burnt orange bottle from his coat. “After I do, we’ll do the maze. In the meantime; here.”
Preston raised an eyebrow at the bottle. “Whatever you’re thinking is going to happen in the maze, I have to break it to you but it’s not going to happen.”
“Damn. I mean, I would never suggest—”
“Sure you wouldn’t.”
“I assure you I would never dream of doing anything so improper.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay, something that would likely get us banished from this place if we were caught.”
That one, Preston believed.
He took the bottle and turned it.
Pumpkin Spice and Vanilla Chai Body Lotion read the label.
Ohhh, something pumpkin-y.
While Keith texted, Preston opened the bottle and sniffed. The lotion smelled wonderful; sweet and spicy and warm. He wanted to wrap that scent around him and never let go.
He also wanted to curl up with Keith and never let him go.
“They got the servers back up,” Keith said.
“I’m glad.”
Keith looked up from his cell. “Thank you for being so patient with me. I know—”
Preston kissed him.
They’d kissed many times since they’d gotten married. Quick kisses, slow kisses, half asleep kisses where their noses bumped into one another.
Today, their kiss lingered. Their lips brushed against one another, whispering. There was a hint of a tongue, brushing over lips, and then it teased into Preston’s mouth.
When the kiss ended, Preston and Keith looked at one another.
“I love the lotion,” Preston said.
“I don’t want to get banned from this place.”
Preston laughed. The amusement shook his body, and since he was pressed against Keith, Keith’s stillness created some nice friction.
“Later,” Preston said, tapping the bottle against Keith’s chest.
“Later.” Keith’s smile grew.
“And maybe you could take a photo. You know. Of my...”
Back. Preston wanted to say back. The word caught in his throat, though, fighting him.
Keith’s smile gentled. “If you’re up to it later, I will.”
chapter five
Preston: and here we are, lost in the corn maze
Evil Former Editor, Mike: OMG, is that a scarecrow?
Preston: yup. I named him Hearst.
Evil Former Editor, Mike: he looks more like a Woodward to me.
Preston: that’s what I named the next scarecrow.
Preston: here’s Woodward.
Evil Former Editor, Mike: I think that’s Hearst.
Preston: nope. Different guy. And this one is Bernstein.
Evil Former Editor, Mike: that’s also Hearst.
Preston: and this one is Nellie Bly.
Evil Former Editor, Mike: you went in circles for hours, didn’t you?
Preston: only one.
Evil Former Editor, Mike:...
Preston: and a half
Evil Former Editor, Mike: uh-huh.
Preston: this scarecrow’s the Guy Who Wrote the Jungle. I forgot his name so I just called him Guy. You can tell he’s a different scarecrow because he’s wearing a coat.
Evil Former Editor, Mike: isn’t that your coat?
Preston: moving on...
Preston: BTW, do you ever call me Evil Former Reporter, Preston?
Evil Former Editor, Mike: no.
Preston: okay. Was just curious.
Evil Former Editor, Mike: I call you Potential Second-in-Command, you know, in case I ever take over the world.
Preston:...
Evil Former Editor, Mike: anyway, back to the corn maze.
“You ready?” Keith asked behind Preston.
Preston nodded once. He sat on the edge of the bed, hugging a pillow close. He was dressed in sweats and was in their house, in their bedroom. He was safe.
Click.
He felt ill.
Preston breathed deeply. It was okay. He was okay. Everything was...
He looked back. At Keith, who was swiping at his phone. At the phone, which held the secrets to the universe, or at least his.
At the nightstand, which held a small orange pumpkin.
Son of Pumpkinzilla.
Preston’s unease faded.
“I’ve copied the image so you could see it both as it is and enlarged,” Keith said, offering Preston the phone.
<
br /> “I don’t know if I want to see it enlarged.”
“All right. The one on the screen is safe. I mean—”
“It’s okay,” Preston said. And it was; he understood what Keith meant. Keith wanted to make an uncomfortable thing as comfortable as he could and Preston...
Preston loved him.
He took Keith’s phone and, with a final look at Keith, looked down.
His back—
The scars—
They looked—
Preston looked away.
He wanted to say his back looked horrible, that there was nothing but jagged lines criss crossing his back, turning him into a monster. He wanted to say that they weren’t bad, that there was one line, maybe two, and he’d blown them out of proportion. He wanted to say that they were ugly.
He couldn’t.
There were lines there, dozens of them, weaving carefully across his back, creating a series of slashes. They were pale and delicate and beautiful.
Preston hated the man who put them there.
He hated the scars.
He hated seeing them.
Preston also... liked them. A little. Because he’d survived the bastard who put them there. Because they were pretty, in a modern art kind of way. Because, for better or worse, they were his now and he had to learn to live with them.
Because Keith wasn’t afraid to look at them, let alone touch them.
Touch him.
“How’re you feeling?” Keith asked.
“Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah... well, mostly.”
Keith laughed softly. “That’s a good place to begin.”
It was, wasn’t it?
Preston offered him his phone. Keith took it and placed it beside Pumpkinzilla Junior. The gourd might not be laying waste to any cities but it did look like it made a good cell phone guard.
“Is it okay if I massage your back tonight?” Keith asked.
Dear God, yes. The man had excellent fingers.
And later, when they were both slick from the lotion, Keith showed him what else he could do with those excellent fingers.
Author Note
Hi :) Thank you for reading the Pumpkin Pact. The story combined two of my favorite things; romance and Halloween.
October is my favorite time of the year. I tend to think of September as pre-October and October itself as a month-long celebration of Halloween. I love everything about that holiday: the costumes, the food, the decorations.
And the pumpkins.
Oh man, the pumpkins.
As Preston noted, we have a ton of ways to enjoy Halloween’s favorite vegetable. We can have it as a burger, we can have it as a pie, and we can have it as a drink. We could wear it (a la Spooky, Scary Halloween guy on YouTube), we can carve it, and we can massage it onto our aching wrists after a long writing session.
The last is really cool. The lotion smells wonderful and makes my skin feel really soft. I think Preston and Keith enjoy it greatly.
However you enjoy this time of the year (perhaps with a well written story about two cute guys finding love, written by an awesome writer who loves coffee), I hope you find the pumpkin of your dreams. I hope you have a wonder season.
And I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of my work ;)
Other work by Faye Larson
The Groom’s Ex
In a romantic story, Brice Larson would be the villain. He's the hero's former lover, a handsome and driven man who put his career ahead of his partner. Now that his former lover, Gary, is about to be married, Brice should be swooping in, hoping to tear him away from the sweet and cute boy next door.
Intimate Friends
There are certain milestones that people can't help but celebrate. Graduating college, getting a great job, getting married.
Being dumped for the hundredth time?
Trust Keith; they don't make a Hallmark card for that.
The Wedding Stipulation
It was like something out of a Victorian novel: Kenneth's friend, Bradley, had to marry or forfeit his father's inheritance. Back then, the hero of such a tale would have their hands tied. Today they could sue.
The Wedding Pact
When Preston and Keith were teenagers, they made a pact: if they were still single when they hit thirty, they'd marry each other. Gay marriage wasn't legal then but, what the hey, they never really thought they'd have to go through with it.
Practically Married
When Martin listed his best friend, Sawyer, as his emergency contact, he never expected it to lead to an engagement. One hospital stay later, Martin has a fiancé, a huge medical bill, and no appendix.
Eight and a half Lives
When Owen’s fiancé asked him to choose between getting his cat chemo and him, the choice had been easy: the cat.
Five years later, the cancer is gone and Owen and his cat, Gatsby, ar living a carefree bachelor life filled with catnip and zombie movie marathons when a new challenge enters their lives; their hot new neighbor, Jay.
Dr. Shadow’s Guide to Dating
Kaden Blackwell, known to the world as the nefarious Dr. Shadow, isn't afraid of teaming up with his arch nemesis, Light Blade, to take down a threat. It's the part afterward that worries him.
© 2017 Faye Larsen. All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental.
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