Of Bonfires and Realizations

Saturday arrived with a crispness that promised the coming of true autumn cold. Autumn spent the morning at Rose’s, helping with the Saturday rush while Daisy dealt with a family emergency. The café was packed with locals catching up over coffee and pastries, the air thick with conversation and the smell of fresh-baked goods.

Eli came in around ten, and Autumn’s heart did that stupid little jump again. He wore a forest green sweater today that made his gray eyes even more striking, and he carried a worn paperback—‘East of Eden,’ she noticed.

“Morning,” she said as he approached the counter. “The usual?”

He seemed surprised that she remembered. “Please.”

As she prepared his caramel latte, very aware of his presence on the other side of the counter, she nodded at his book. “Good choice. That’s one of my favorites.”

“The bookshop owner recommended it. Said it was essential reading for understanding small-town life.” There was that almost-smile again. “I’m starting to think he was testing me.”

“Hank tests everyone. If you finish it, he’ll quiz you. Fair warning.”

“I’ll study hard then.”

Their eyes met, and Autumn felt that spark again—that strange sense of connection with someone she barely knew. She handed him his coffee, and their fingers brushed. Brief. Accidental. Electric.

“Thank you, Autumn.”

There it was again—her name in his voice, careful and weighted with meaning.

“You’re welcome, Eli.”

He took his usual table by the window, and Autumn forced herself to focus on other customers, on wiping down the counter, on anything but the way she could feel his presence like a magnetic pull.

Rose appeared beside her, smirking. “You’ve got it bad, sweetheart.”

“I don’t have anything.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s why you’ve remade Mrs. Patterson’s cappuccino three times because you keep getting distracted.”

Autumn looked down at the cup in her hand—definitely over-foamed. “Oh no.”

“Go talk to him,” Rose urged. “Take your break. I can handle things here.”

“Grandma—”

“That’s not a suggestion, dear. That’s your boss telling you to take your federally mandated break.” Rose hip-checked her away from the counter. “Go. Be young. Flirt. Make an old woman happy.”

Defeated but secretly pleased, Autumn made herself a latte and walked over to Eli’s table. He looked up immediately, and she wondered if he’d been watching her.

“Mind if I sit?” she asked. “It’s my break, and all the other tables are taken.”

It was a blatant lie—three other tables were completely empty—but he didn’t call her on it. “Please.”

She sat across from him, suddenly nervous. What did she even say? They’d exchanged maybe ten sentences total. But then Eli set down his book and looked at her with those intense gray eyes, and the words came easier than expected.

“How are you finding Maplewood so far?”

“Quiet,” he said. “But in a good way. It’s… peaceful.”

“It’s definitely that. Sometimes too peaceful, depending on who you ask.”

“Do you find it too peaceful?”

The question felt weighted somehow, like he was really asking something else. Autumn considered it. “Sometimes. I’ve lived here my whole life. Everyone knows everyone, everyone knows your business, and nothing really changes. It can feel…” She searched for the right word. “Safe. But also suffocating.”

“Yet you stayed.”

“My grandmother’s here. My best friend. The people I care about.” She wrapped her hands around her mug. “Plus, it’s hard to leave when leaving feels like admitting defeat. Like saying my parents were right about everything.”

She hadn’t meant to say that last part. But something about Eli invited honesty—maybe because he listened like her words actually mattered.

“Your parents don’t support your writing,” he said. Not a question.

“They don’t support anything about me. I’m the daughter who didn’t become a lawyer like my brother. Who didn’t marry someone successful. Who works in a café and writes stories that might never be published.” Autumn laughed, but it came out bitter. “Sorry. That was a lot of personal information for someone I barely know.”

“I don’t mind.” Eli was quiet for a moment, his finger tracing the rim of his cup. “My mother doesn’t understand why I’m here either. She calls it ‘running away from responsibility.’”

“Are you?”

“Maybe.” He looked out the window at Main Street, at the autumn leaves drifting down like confetti. “I spent ten years building something I thought I wanted. Worked hundred-hour weeks, sacrificed everything for success. Then I woke up one day and realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually enjoyed any of it.”

“So you came here.”

“So I came here.” He turned back to her, and there was vulnerability in his expression that made her chest ache. “To figure out what I actually want. Away from expectations and pressure and people telling me who I should be.”

“How’s that going?”

“Better than expected.” His gaze held hers. “I’m meeting interesting people.”

The air between them felt charged, full of things unsaid. Autumn’s phone buzzed, breaking the moment. A text from Owen.

Owen: Picking you up at 6 for the bonfire! Wear layers, it’s getting cold!

“The bonfire,” she said aloud, then looked at Eli. “There’s a bonfire tonight at Miller’s Farm. Local tradition—last big gathering before winter. You should come.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s open to everyone. Half the town will be there. Food, music, terrible ghost stories told around the fire. Very wholesome, very Maplewood.” Autumn smiled. “Besides, if you’re going to understand small-town life, you need to experience small-town traditions. Hank would approve.”

Eli seemed to consider this. “What time?”

“Starts around six. Miller’s Farm is about fifteen minutes outside town. I can text you the address?”

“I’d like that.”

They exchanged numbers, and Autumn tried to ignore the little thrill that ran through her when his contact appeared in her phone. Just new friends exchanging information. Totally normal. Not a big deal at all.

“I should get back to work,” she said reluctantly. “But I’ll see you tonight?”

“You will.”

As she walked back to the counter, Rose gave her a thumbs up so enthusiastic that several customers turned to look. Autumn felt her face burn, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

The rest of her shift passed in a blur. Every time she glanced at Eli’s table, he seemed focused on his book or his laptop, but twice she caught him looking at her, and twice they both looked away quickly, like teenagers caught staring.

When six o’clock came, Owen pulled up outside her apartment in his old Jeep, music blaring from the speakers. He honked twice, their signal since high school.

Autumn grabbed her jacket and ran downstairs. Owen grinned when she climbed in, his hair wind-tousled and his smile as bright as always.

“Ready for s’mores and questionable acoustic guitar playing?”

“Always,” she said, buckling in.

The drive to Miller’s Farm was beautiful. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, and the fields on either side of the road were gold with harvested wheat. Owen sang along to the radio, purposely off-key, making Autumn laugh.

“So I heard through the grapevine that you invited someone to the bonfire,” Owen said, casual but not quite casual enough.

“Sophie has a big mouth.”

“Sophie cares about you. So does everyone else who’s been texting me about the ‘mysterious city stranger’ who our Auti has taken an interest in.” He glanced at her. “Is it serious?”

“Owen, I barely know him. We’ve had like two actual conversations.”

“But you want more conversations.”

“Maybe. Is that okay?”

Owen was quiet for a long moment, his hands tight on the steering wheel. “Of course it’s okay. I just… I want you to be careful, Auti. Guys like him—rich, successful, from the city—they’re not usually looking for something real. They’re looking for a distraction, an escape, and then they go back to their real lives.”

There was that edge in his voice again, sharper this time. Autumn studied his profile, the tension in his jaw.

“Owen, what’s really going on? You’ve been weird about Eli since you saw him at the café.”

“I haven’t been weird.”

“You’ve been weird.”

He sighed, pulling into the farm’s makeshift parking area where a dozen other cars were already scattered. He turned off the engine but didn’t move to get out.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said finally, looking at her with those earnest hazel eyes. “You’ve been through enough with your parents and the pressure to be something you’re not. You don’t need some guy coming in, making you feel special for a few weeks, and then disappearing back to his fancy life. You deserve better than that.”

His concern was touching, but something about it felt off. Before Autumn could respond, someone knocked on the Jeep window, making them both jump.

“Are you two going to sit in there all night, or are you actually going to join the party?” Sophie’s grinning face appeared in the window.

Owen forced a smile and climbed out. “Coming, coming. Can’t rush perfection.”

Sophie linked arms with Autumn as they walked toward the bonfire. “Everything okay? You both looked intense.”

“Owen’s just being protective.”

“Owen’s always protective of you.” Sophie’s tone was knowing, but she didn’t elaborate. “Come on, Daisy’s already on her third s’more and she’s telling everyone about her ‘meet-cute’ scenario with the hot stranger.”

The bonfire was in full swing. At least forty people clustered around the massive fire, flames reaching toward the darkening sky. String lights hung between trees, creating a magical canopy overhead. Tables groaned under the weight of food—hot dogs, burgers, pasta salads, pies, and the essential ingredients for s’mores. Someone had set up speakers, and soft folk music played in the background.

Autumn spotted familiar faces everywhere. Mrs. Patterson with her infamous cat stories. Hank arguing with the librarian about which books deserved to be in the “classics” section. Daisy holding court with a group of younger townspeople, probably regaling them with romantic fantasies.

“Autumn!” Daisy squealed when she spotted her, rushing over with marshmallow on her face. “Did you hear? I saw him again today. He came into the café after you left, and I swear he looked disappointed that you weren’t there. I think he’s totally into you.”

“Daisy—”

“I’m serious! He asked if you were working tomorrow. Like, specifically asked about your schedule. That’s boyfriend behavior, Auti. That’s—oh my god, is that him?”

Everyone within earshot turned to look. Autumn’s heart leaped.

Eli was walking toward the bonfire from the parking area, looking slightly out of place in his expensive clothes but somehow making it work. His eyes scanned the crowd, and when they found Autumn, his expression softened into something warm.

“He came,” Sophie whispered. “Girl, he definitely came for you.”

Autumn’s feet moved before her brain caught up. She met Eli halfway, very aware that half the town was watching.

“You made it,” she said, suddenly shy.

“I did.” Eli glanced around at all the curious faces. “Should I be worried about the staring?”

“Probably. Small town, remember? You’re the most interesting thing to happen here in months.” She gestured toward the fire. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to people. Try not to be overwhelmed.”

For the next half hour, Autumn led Eli through a gauntlet of introductions. Hank interrogated him about ‘East of Eden’ (Eli passed the test with flying colors). Mrs. Patterson told him her entire cat’s medical history despite him having no pets. Daisy was so starstruck she could barely form sentences.

Through it all, Eli remained polite but reserved, clearly out of his element but trying. Autumn found herself watching him carefully, noticing small things—the way he tensed when too many people crowded around, the way he relaxed slightly when she touched his arm, the way his eyes kept finding hers across the space like she was his anchor in unfamiliar waters.

Owen watched too, from across the bonfire. Sophie noticed.

“He’s jealous,” Sophie said, appearing at Owen’s side with two bottles of beer.

“I’m not jealous.”

“I said ‘he,’ not ‘you.’” Sophie handed him a beer. “But interesting that you assumed I meant you.”

Owen took a long drink instead of answering.

“You need to tell her,” Sophie said gently. “Before it’s too late.”

“Tell her what?”

“Owen. Come on. Everyone knows except her. You’ve been in love with Autumn since we were sixteen years old.”

Owen’s hand tightened around the bottle. “She doesn’t feel the same way. She never has. I’m her best friend. That’s all I’ve ever been, all I’ll ever be.”

“You don’t know that. You’ve never actually asked her.”

“Because I can’t risk losing her. If I tell her how I feel and she doesn’t feel the same way, I lose my best friend. I can’t—” His voice cracked slightly. “I can’t lose her, Sophie.”

Sophie’s expression was sympathetic. “But watching her fall for someone else, that doesn’t hurt?”

Owen didn’t answer. Across the fire, Autumn laughed at something Eli said, her whole face lighting up in that way that made Owen’s chest ache. Eli was looking at her like she was the only person there, and even from a distance, Owen could see the connection forming between them.

“It’s too late,” Owen said quietly. “Look at them. She’s already falling.”

“Then you need to decide if you’re going to fight for her or let her go,” Sophie said. “But you can’t just hover in the middle, being protective and possessive without giving her a reason why. That’s not fair to anyone.”

Before Owen could respond, Autumn called out to him. “Owen! Come here! Eli’s never made a s’more before. Can you believe that?”

Owen painted on his brightest smile and walked over. “A s’more virgin? This is a tragedy that must be corrected immediately.”

Eli raised an eyebrow at Autumn. “Is he always this dramatic?”

“Always,” she and Owen said simultaneously, then laughed.

For a moment, the three of them stood around the fire, and it felt almost normal. Owen showed Eli the perfect marshmallow-roasting technique (golden brown, not burnt). Autumn assembled the s’more with the precision of a surgeon. Eli took a bite and looked genuinely surprised at how good it was.

“Okay,” Eli admitted. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“Welcome to small-town living,” Owen said. “Where the culinary highlights are s’mores and whatever pie Mrs. Henderson brings to potlucks.”

They talked and laughed, and to anyone watching, they looked like three friends enjoying a bonfire. But Autumn noticed the tension in Owen’s smile. And Eli noticed the way Owen stayed close to Autumn, proprietary and protective. And Owen noticed the way Eli’s hand brushed Autumn’s when he handed her his marshmallow stick, gentle and intentional.

As the night wore on and the fire burned lower, someone pulled out a guitar. A group gathered for songs—folk tunes and old classics that everyone knew the words to. Autumn found herself sitting on a log between Owen and Eli, caught between the familiar and the new, the comfortable and the exciting.

Owen’s shoulder pressed against hers, warm and solid. Eli’s hand rested on the log behind her, close enough that she could feel the heat of him. The music washed over them, voices rising and falling with the flames.

“This is nice,” Eli said quietly, meant only for her. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming. I know this probably isn’t your usual Saturday night.”

“No,” he agreed. “But it’s better.”

Their eyes met, and in the firelight, his looked more blue than gray, warm and soft in a way she hadn’t seen before. The moment stretched, full of possibility, and Autumn wondered if he was going to kiss her, wondered if she wanted him to, wondered what it would feel like—

“Hey Auti, remember that summer when we tried to have our own bonfire and nearly set your backyard on fire?” Owen’s voice cut through the moment, loud and pointed. “Your grandmother was so mad she didn’t speak to us for a week.”

The spell broke. Autumn turned to Owen, laughing at the memory. “Oh god, we were so stupid. What were we, fourteen?”

“Fifteen. And it was your idea, if I remember correctly.”

“It was not!”

They fell into the easy rhythm of shared memories, inside jokes that Eli couldn’t possibly understand. After a few minutes, Eli stood.

“I should probably head out,” he said. “Early morning tomorrow.”

Autumn stood too, disappointment flooding through her. “Oh. Okay. Do you need directions back to town?”

“I’ll find my way.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but Owen was right there, watching. “Goodnight, Autumn. Owen.”

“Night,” Owen said, his tone carefully neutral.

Autumn walked Eli partway to the parking area, away from the fire and the crowd. The air was cold now, their breath visible in the darkness.

“I’m sorry if Owen was a bit… much,” she said. “He gets protective sometimes.”

“He cares about you. I understand that.” Eli paused, then asked carefully, “Are you two…?”

“What? No! No, Owen’s my best friend. That’s all. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

Something in Eli’s expression eased. “Good. I mean—not that there would be anything wrong if you were. But I’m… glad you’re not.”

Autumn’s heart stuttered. “Why?”

For a moment, she thought he might actually answer. But then he seemed to remember himself, that careful control sliding back into place.

“Because it would make this more complicated,” he said quietly. “And I don’t do complicated well.”

“What’s ‘this’?”

He looked at her for a long moment, something intense and vulnerable in his eyes. “I don’t know yet. But I’d like to find out. If you would.”

“I would,” Autumn said, barely breathing.

Eli smiled then, a real smile that transformed his entire face. “Good. Have coffee with me tomorrow? Somewhere we can actually talk, without the entire town watching?”

“Yes. Definitely yes.”

“I’ll text you.” He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek for just a moment. “Goodnight, Autumn.”

“Goodnight, Eli.”

She watched him walk to his car—a sleek black Mercedes that confirmed Owen’s suspicions about his wealth—and drive away. When she turned back to the bonfire, Owen was watching her, something unreadable in his expression.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Autumn was there but not there, her mind replaying every moment with Eli, every word, every look. When Owen drove her home, they were both quiet, the easy chatter from earlier gone.

“He seems nice,” Owen said finally as he pulled up to her apartment.

“He is.”

“Just be careful, okay?”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because I mean it.” Owen turned to look at her, and in the dim light from the street lamp, his face was serious. “I know you, Auti. You fall hard and fast. You give everything to people. And sometimes they don’t deserve it.”

“And you think Eli doesn’t deserve it?”

“I think I don’t know him well enough to know. But I know he’s going to leave eventually. City guys always do. And I’m going to be the one picking up the pieces when he breaks your heart.”

The certainty in his voice stung. “You don’t know that will happen.”

“Don’t I?” Owen’s laugh was bitter. “He’s a CEO, Autumn. Of a company in New York, I’m guessing? Or some other big city? He’s here on some kind of sabbatical or soul-searching trip, and when he’s done finding himself or whatever, he’s going to go back to his real life. And you’ll be here, in Maplewood, exactly where you’ve always been.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Maybe not. But it’s true.”

Autumn grabbed her purse, suddenly angry. “You know what, Owen? Maybe I want something different for once. Maybe I want to take a chance on someone who makes me feel like I’m worth taking a chance on. Is that so terrible?”

“No. It’s not terrible. It’s terrifying.” Owen’s voice cracked. “Because I can’t watch you get hurt again, Auti. I can’t.”

“Then don’t watch.” She opened the door and climbed out. “I’ll see you later, Owen.”

She didn’t look back as she walked to her apartment, but she heard him sit there for a long time before finally driving away.

Inside, Autumn leaned against her door, emotions warring inside her. Frustration at Owen for not understanding. Guilt for snapping at him. Excitement about tomorrow with Eli. Confusion about all of it.

Her phone buzzed.

Eli: I’m glad I came tonight. Sleep well, Autumn.

She smiled despite everything and texted back.

Autumn: Me too. Sweet dreams, Eli.

That night, she dreamed of gray eyes and autumn leaves and the feeling of standing on the edge of something both terrifying and wonderful, wondering if she was brave enough to jump.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***