heap. âAnd this one?â
Drew reaches out and delicately takes the apple from my hand. âThis is a Smokehouse, an antique Pennsylvania Dutch variety. You can pretty much use it for anythingâpies, cooking, sauce. It tastes like fresh cider. Really good. So are the Mutsus and Pink Ladies.â
âAnd these are all for us?â I ask.
âSure. In exchange for some bread and muffinsâassuming you get the okay from Rick.â
At the mention of his name, Rick trundles over to our corner of the tent. âWhatâs going on over here? We still have forty-five minutes left. This isnât playtime.â
âMaggie and I were hoping to do a little swap,â Drew says. âSome apples for some of your olive bread and millet muffins. What do you think?â
âYou know I canât resist Maggieâs apples.â He winks. âAnd her fruit ainât half-bad either.â He waves Drew over to the truck. âCome on. Iâll hook you up with a bag of goodies.â
Drew follows Rick over to the truck, and they disappear behind the loading area.
âSo Drew is pretty hot, huh?â Heidi says.
âHe is definitely easy on the eyes.â
âAnd very sweet. You should go for a drink with him.â
âMe?â
âNo, the other Sydney.â
âYouâre the one who should go for a drink with him. You were like a dog in heat as soon as he came over.â
Heidi cackles. âBeen there, done that.â
âOh, so I get your sloppy seconds? No, thanks.â
âHe isnât my sloppy seconds. We went on one date, had a drunken smooch, and realized it would never work out between us, so weâre just friends. But heâs a sweetheart. I think youâd like him.â
âMaybe. Mentally Iâm not really in a place to date right now.â
Heidi moans. âBecause of Zach? That was years ago, Sydney. Weâve been over this. Itâs time to move on.â
âIt isnât because of Zach,â I say, even though we both know it is. âI should be devoting my mental energies to finding a job, not to finding my way into someoneâs bed.â
âWhatever. Just promise youâll think about it. We could go on a double date. It would be really low-key.â
âOkay. Iâll think about it.â
Drew and Rick emerge from behind the truck, and Drew hands me and Heidi a white plastic bag filled with apples. âEnjoy, ladies,â he says with a smile. Then he turns to me. âItâs Sydney, right?â
I nod.
âGreat seeing you again,â he says. âYouâll have to let me know what you think of the Smokehouses next time you see meâwhich I hope will be soon?â
âSure. Iâm here every weekend.â
Heidi clears her throat as if she is about to say something, but I kick her beneath the table.
âCool,â Drew says. âIâll see you next weekend, then.â
He grabs his brown bag filled with bread and pastries and turns to leave, then turns back quickly, as if he has forgotten something. His big brown eyes run up and down my face and land on the top of my head. He breaks into a broad smile. âBy the way,â he says, âsweet hat.â
Â
When I get back to my apartment that afternoon, I flip open my laptop and log on to A Perpetual Feast, the food blog I started freshman year of college. It was a mix of personal essays, recipes, and trend reporting, an extension of the column I began in high school while working on the school paper. Iâd worked on the paper for four years at that point, but once we were high school seniors, Zach encouraged me to start a food column, and with his help, I launched âZest,â which ran articles on everything from our cafeteria food to restaurants around town. One of my first pieces blasted our cafeteria staff and launched an investigation into their hygienic practices after I found a dirty
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