Autumn Flame (Seasons #2 )

Chapter 10: Macaroon Mayhem

The outside of the pastry shop is pastel green with golden frames and small iron tables set out on the sidewalk. The windows are filled with boxes in all kinds of pastel candy colors: pink, green, yellow, and baby blue.

Needless to say, I wasn't the one to pick a bougie French macaroon place on the Upper East as our meeting location, but here I am.

The bell chimes when I walk in, and a powdered sugar smell hits my face—well, this is one of those fancy places, so it doesn't hit me so much as caress me gently to open my wallet. You know, up close, these little round macaroons look just so pretty. Maybe I could get a box for Sydney and she'd speak to me again.

A female arm loops through mine, pink nail polish sparkling bright against my leather jacket. I smell Melanie before my eyes lock with hers, too close to my face. Rose and vanilla cupcakes, sweeter than anything in this pastry shop.

"Hello," she smiles. A wide, innocent smile like she hadn't wreaked havoc since the moment she returned to New York. "The raspberry ones are to die for," she points down.

"I've never tried them," I shrug.

"What?" she exclaims. "We must correct this, at once!" Her breath smells fruity and sour.

"Have you been drinking?" I ask.

She snickers. "A glass of wine with dinner. Not even tipsy," she reassures me. "We'll take a box to go," she says sweetly to the shopkeeper and picks out a few different flavors to try.

She keeps her arm on mine as we stroll to Central Park with a pastel green bag filled with sweets. The lamplight reflects on little puddles filled with fallen leaves, and we blend in with the silhouettes of New Yorkers going about their evenings.

I look down at the redhead, and I can imagine another life in which we're just a couple of kids living in New York. Different schools, of course. She'd probably study something like Design at the Fashion Institute, dress the way she does. And after school, we'd have tagliatelle and some chardonnay at Uva, then take a stroll down Madison and pick up some macaroons at Ladurée, and then hang out in the park until we go home for the night in the one-bedroom apartment her parents would rent us in SoHo because I wouldn't be able to afford anything nicer while I'm still a college student.

"That was quite the walk!" she says once we claim a bench. She lands heavily on it.

"How much wine did you have exactly?"

She shakes her head dismissively. "Irrelevant. We're here now."

I crack my knuckles. "I needed to talk to you about what happened at the party."

She nods, "I figured as much." Her delicate fingers pluck one smooth macaroon out of the pretty box and bring it to her mouth. She closes her lips around it, the perfectly smooth shell crackling as she bites it. "Mmm..." she moans. "You have to try it."

"I'm okay."

"No, Rhys," she insists, "you don't understand. These are the best macaroons in the world." She holds out the second half of her macaroon in front of my mouth. I shake my head no, and her face takes on a mischievous look. "Choo, choo," she says.

I snort and relent. "Oh my god..." my eyes go wide. "What do they put in those? Cocaine?"

She peals with delight. "I told you!" Her laughter dissipates as her eyes fall to the ground. She fiddles with her bracelet.

Just like you used to in Peregrine Hollow. The memory is enough to make me want to wrap her in my arms, but I know better now. Even after I notice the mermaid charm I gave her is hiding under her sleeve.