The air smelled like cinnamon and woodsmoke when Jamie stepped into the pumpkin patch at dusk. String lights twinkled overhead, turning every orange globe into a tiny lantern. He’d come straight from the gym—still shirtless, skin glowing from the last rays of sunset—and the cool October breeze made him shiver in the best way.

He lifted a jack-o’-lantern someone had carved with a goofy, lopsided grin. Its candle flickered hello.

“Matches your smile,” a voice said behind him.

Jamie turned. A guy in a flannel shirt, sleeves rolled high, held two steaming cups of cider. His name was Eli; they’d locked eyes across the hay-bale maze an hour earlier.

Jamie laughed, cheeks pink. “I was going for ‘friendly neighborhood cryptid.’”

“Mission accomplished.” Eli handed him a cup. Their fingers brushed—warm, lingering. “Wanna help me pick the perfect pumpkin? Loser carries the heaviest one to the truck.”

Jamie’s eyes sparkled. “You’re on.”

They wandered between the rows, bumping shoulders, trading silly jokes. Jamie found a perfectly round pumpkin and cradled it like a trophy. Eli countered with a comically tall one, pretending to stagger under its weight. They ended up choosing two medium ones instead—teamwork.

At the checkout, Eli paid before Jamie could protest. “Winner’s treat,” he winked.

Under the string lights, Jamie balanced his jack-o’-lantern in one arm and slipped his free hand into Eli’s. Their fingers laced together, easy as breathing.

“Next year,” Jamie said, “we carve matching ones. Something cheesy—like hearts.”

Eli squeezed his hand. “Only if I get to light yours first.”

They walked to the truck, pumpkins glowing softly between them, the night just beginning.