Rain or Shine (UnWilling Roommates book 2.5)

Pumpkin Spice Trauma

Who else is feeling the spirit of the Halloween season?

(Y/N POV)

The table rattled as you thunked your pumpkin prize into the center of it.  Perfectly spherical, intensely orange and at least twenty pounds, it had taken you the better part of the morning to select this beauty from the midst of its inferior brethren that had littered the pumpkin patch.  Bill and Will, on the other hand, had both selected their pumpkins within ten minutes and then waited around, bored, for you to make up your mind.

They set their pumpkins on either side of yours.  Will's was slightly smaller, with a smooth face that would be good for carving.  Bill's was hideous and misshapen, a sickly yellow shade and covered in warts.  He had cackled wildly when he snatched it up, claiming it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

The table was already covered in newspaper, prepared for you to get your hands dirty with pumpkin guts.  The windows were all flung open wide to admit the crisp aroma of autumn.  You smiled in anticipation, grabbing a Sharpie and labeling each pumpkin with your respective initials, "Y.K.N;  B.O.C;  W.M.C."

"So... now what?" Will asked with a confused frown.

"Wait, I didn't explain this to you?"  Your smile dropped, taken aback.  In your excitement to complete this annual tradition, you'd neglected to fully describe what the ritual involved.

You laughed sheepishly.  "I guess I didn't.  See, the point of the pumpkins is to carve them."

"C-carve them?" Will asked nervously.

"Sure.  First you cut a big hole in the top, scrape the guts out, and cut a face in it.  Or any picture you want, really."

Will was looking decidedly queasy.  "Sounds g-gruesome."

"No, it's fun, really!" you waved off his concerns.  "When you're done carving what you want, you light a candle in each one and put it outside so people can see it."

"Can I light more than a candle?" Bill requested.

You shot him a scathing look.  "Arson is on the "no" list, Bill."

"What, still?" he asked, feigning shock.

"I'm never taking anything off that list, so stop asking!" you snapped.

"Spoilsport," he muttered.

You shook your head, deciding to ignore him as he left the room.  "Anyway— Will, are you okay?"

He was pale and quivering, eyeing his pumpkin like it was about to bite him.

Before he could respond, Bill came back from the kitchen with a giant butcher knife.  Will paled even further at the sight of the dangerous tool.  You had a bad feeling about this.

You opened your mouth to intervene, but Bill raised the knife high and, grinning demonically, plunged it into his pumpkin with a sickening squelch. 

Will promptly fainted, falling off his chair and hitting the floor before you could catch him.  Bill looked at him with surprise, seeming to notice for the first time that he might have made a mistake.

"That wasn't my fault, was it?" he checked.  You facepalmed.

"You know what?  Just finish carving before he wakes up," you instructed irascibly.  "Then get out of here.  You're in time-out as soon as you're done."

He started to argue, but took a second look at your face and nodded, his mouth snapping shut.  The authority of your glare was not to be contested.