Page 71 of Rituals & Rivalry

“So… pumpkin carving competition?” I cock my head. “I didn’t know you were into jack-o’-lanterns.”

“I’m not into them.” He clears his throat. “But I happen to be very good at making them. I win Donnie’s competition every year that I come. It’s really a favor when I don’t attend—might as well let someone else win⁠—”

“I have got to see this.” I look around. “Where are the pumpkins?”

“Will you enter too?”

“Obviously.” I poke him in the side. “Someone has to beat you. But I need a drink first.”

He drove here, so Sterling sticks to a mocktail while I get one of the specialty cocktails from a server—dark, chocolate-cherry flavored liquid. Not bad. I doubt something this sweet will get me drunk.

I gulp it down and smile at Sterling. “Can I have another one?”

He narrows his eyes. “Yes. Of course. You don’t need my permission, but don’t make yourself sick.”

“I won’t.”

“Let me try it.” When the server comes by with another drink, he plucks one up and takes a sip, his nose curling. Gods, he looks adorable even when he’s disgusted.

I giggle and take the drink back, my head light and floaty. “You don’t like sweet things, do you?”

“I like you.” He curls a piece of my hair around his finger and meets me with a look so serious that I want to run. “You’re sweet.”

I take a generous drink instead, laughing nervously. “Let’s go see about those pumpkins.”

Sterling leads me outside, where there are tables and tables of pumpkins. Some attendees are already sitting, focused on the carving—with magic or with a knife. Sterling and I sit close together, and I pick the biggest pumpkin I can find.

“Size doesn’t matter,” he says.

“Size always matters.”

It’s not all that matters, but lucky for me, I already have ideas for my pumpkin. Sterling goes quiet as he works on his. It’s probably the first time I’ve seen him treat something like an art, but he’s still so somber about it as he begins planning…

A house, I realize. He’s carving the cottage.

I turn away, wishing I’d had more time to prepare for this. But constellations—the stars. That’s always the place I go to with my art. I don’t even need to look up at the sky for reference as I carve out the constellations meticulously.

When I was younger, I loved art, but studying it in school killed my passion. I never quite got back into it, but little crafts connect me to who I used to be, even if there’s no going back there.

By the time I’m finishing, Sterling has his chin resting on my shoulder.

“Stunning,” he whispers. “But it’s not going to beat mine.”

Of course, his jack-o’-lantern is beautiful. The meticulously carved windows will light up once the candle is in. His eyes are pretty too, glistening in the light of the party, a soft smile on his lips.

It would be too easy to kiss him, with our faces inches apart.

But I remember what happened last time.

I look away, blushing furiously, desperate for another distraction. Apparently, the pumpkins weren’t enough. “Oh, look! Farrah’s here. I’m going to go say ‘hi.’”

My heart is racing as I run away from him. Farrah is his sister; he could probably follow, but I’m relieved when he doesn’t. I need a minute. Farrah looks so happy to see me—another Poole sibling I’m going to inevitably let down. She’s with her little group of witch friends, who all greet me in turn.

Maybe the small crowd is the reason Sterling didn’t follow me over.

“Hey, guys!” I flip my hair over my shoulder. “Fun party, right?”

“So fun,” Farrah chirps. “The theme this year—I love it. Last year was a masquerade, but then another house threw a masquerade, so it was a mess…”