Wednesday. October 31st. It didn't feel like it was the turning point of that year, but looking back, it did seem so.

Ever since Sunny's brother took over as the student council president, we had seen some positive improvement in the school events. There was a fog machine now, the banquet wasn't appalling, and the music was good and loud enough to make you forget the problems the week had brought on. And in that year's Halloween party, a new game was added to the program.

A scavenger hunt.

The chosen destination was the South Building, located in the woodsy part of the school, an archaic structure infamous for ghost sightings and spectral activities. Growing up, I loved listening to ghost stories and other tales of the macabre. I wasn't a staunch believer in their existence, but I thought it would be a cool adventure to find some proof of the supernatural world. My interest in joining the game was piqued, but that would mean missing the chance to dance with Autumn.

So I stayed at the venue, hung out with my bandmates, had a few drinks and chats in a corner before I set out to look for the redhead. But Lance intercepted me and asked to follow them outside. Now, this was weird because it was like thirty degrees out there, and it was windy and dark—not a good spot to hang out. Nonetheless, I went after him because he might do some stupid shit, and there I was blindfolded.

Unnerved, I tried to ask him what he was plotting, but the bastard just snickered and continued to escort me down a rocky path. Before long, I found myself standing beside Autumn inside the south building. Sunny and Lance, who were once again playing Cupid, had set us up. I wanted to scream at them and smash the glass door that they had locked, but Autumn, who was surprisingly calm despite everything, decided to go around the building to look for another exit.

The building looked ordinary during days, but walking through its halls at night was like wandering in a completely unearthly dimension. There was barely any light. Heavy shadows blanketed the stairways. I had to remind myself to remain collected and vigilant because Autumn's with me and I wanted her to feel safe. We joked around to break the tension, but the mood faded fast.

The heat around us seemed to escalate each time our hands grazed each other. Gasping heavily under her breath, she kept turning her wide eyes side to side as if expecting a ghost to jump on us. I was pretty spooked by that point, but I also felt amused. There I was with the girl I loved, roving aimlessly the hallways of the alleged haunted building. This wasn't exactly the kind of adventure I had in mind, but it wasn't bad. I feel ashamed admitting this, but I was tempted to do something that would heighten her fear and make her cling to my arm.

I didn't have to do anything, though, because when we passed by the lockers area, a person in a scary nun costume sprung out of nowhere, and Autumn took my hand and bolted away. I nearly tripped myself trying to catch up with her.

After all that crazy running, we stopped in a hallway and sat on the floor in exhaustion. Our hands never parted. Hers looked small, slender—the skin of her palm was a bit rough, a sign of overwork—it could barely wrap around mine. Slowly I withdrew and placed my hand on top of hers, filling the spaces between her fingers in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. She didn't recoil, didn't say anything. She just looked at me, and I looked back at her.

Nothing else mattered to me right there. I didn't mind that we might be lost in that creepy, old building (I wouldn't mind if we were, anyway). All that was present in my consciousness were the pattering of the rain on the roof, the infrequent rolling of thunder, the distant echoes of footsteps from a corridor, and the warmth that came from our clasped hands. Our hushed voices as we talked. My racing heartbeats as I told her, bit by bit, of my feelings that I couldn't muffle any longer. And the dropping sensation in my stomach when she slid away from my grip and ignored my words.

Our bubble popped, and the air between us cooled. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I couldn't give up. I swore to myself that I was not going to lose this. The muscles in my throat were stiff, my nerves were all over the place, but I somehow managed to force the grand question out without a stammer.

"So... will you go out with me?"

As I had anticipated and dreaded, silence fell into place. Thick. Stifling. And the longer it stayed there, the more the fear gripped me. Her face was hardly visible in the shadow of the night, and only the flashes of lightning outside provided light for me to get a glimpse of shock in her eyes.

Was I too fast for her? Did I come on too strong? Did she not like what I said? Did I scare her?

All of a sudden, music rang out. Flawless notes which I quickly recognized as Paganini's Caprice No. 24. A melody that I used to practice on the piano. Turning away from me, Autumn clicked on her phone and answered the call. I asked who it was as soon as it ended.

"Michael," she said. "He's coming to pick us up."

Upon hearing his name, I felt another dropping sensation in my guts.

When? I wanted to ask. When did you two become close? Was it during my birthday party, when I asked him to walk you home? What kinds of conversations were you two having that made you comfortable with him? Why did I sense relief and happiness in your voice when you answered his call?

Or... was all these questions only sprung from self-doubt?

I reached out for her hand, wanting to ask her answer to my confession, but I'd barely finished my sentence when she inched away and mumbled, "Thank you."

Long ago, I had mentally constructed dozens of possibilities of how a situation like this might go. Dozens of answers that she might say, but "thank you" was not one of them. They were not exactly ugly words to hear, but they were not pretty either. It dazed me, honestly.

She asked for time to think it over. Instances like this proved how little I understood about courting. ­­­I didn't take it as a sign that everything had gone downhill. No, it hadn't just gone downhill. It had dived off the cliff, hit more than a few rocks, and burst into flames. But I interpreted her words as a result of shyness. She just couldn't think of an immediate response in the heat of the moment.

Before long, Michael arrived with a flashlight in hand and guided us outside. The sky was deep purple, and icy bullets of rain pelted the roofs and concrete road. From afar, people could be seen running or diving into the nearest shelter, their flashlights and glow sticks were looking like small lights bobbing in the darkness.

Michael contacted Nate to give us a ride home, but the latter couldn't get his car into the area so we three had to run all the way to the parking lot. My jaw tightened when I saw his cape over Autumn's shoulders, and I wished my pirate costume came with something that could protect her from the harsh weather.

She whipped her head to me and smiled the kind of smile that easily drove my doubts aside, before kicking a pudding onto me. I gaped at her, and she burst out laughing, her giggles dancing along with the cruel wind. Seeing her look so wild and free was like witnessing the northern lights for the first time.

Mud-splashed and out of breath, the three of us finally reached the end of the parking lot where Nate's beat-up truck was flashing its headlights. Rose and Clover occupied the seats in the front so the rest of us had to sit in the back. Clint, who was also completely drenched, welcomed me. It had been a while since I hung out with these people, and driving around with them hit me with nostalgia.

We could have gotten home a lot quicker if the rain wasn't too thick and persistent, but we didn't mind if it was a slow drive anyway. Conversations flowed and laughter was in abundance. Nate cranked the radio on loud and we screamed along to whatever good song that came up. It's one of those good memories that I've kept over the years. It was a moment where everything was in balance, where I was holding the hand of the girl I loved, and where I felt I was home.

When no one was watching, I leaned to her ear and swore that I would wait for her patiently. And she looked at me with big round eyes and mouth slightly agape. Her silence, once again, was only the answer I got. I couldn't read her mind, but I decided not to press her too hard. She was still in shock.

Since my house had the nearest route from school, I got off first. My energy declined as soon as the truck's taillight disappeared beyond the houses. I fell asleep the instant my head fell onto the pillows.

It was possibly the dullest Halloween the town had ever experienced at the time. The weather continuously raged for another day. The streets were dead. Stores were closed. And everyone was stuck in their homes. I spent the whole 24 hours in a funk, listening to the mixtape she made for me and thinking of last night's confession.

I felt I should have been more thrilled. I felt that it should have turned out like one of those coming-of-age movies where, after a series of unexpected events and a big revelation, I'd feel renewed with a new outlook towards the world. But I simply couldn't muster the energy to feel such emotion. All I could think of was her silence that followed.

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The storm stopped the following day, and classes were back again. The first two people I approached at school were Lance and Oscar. I still hadn't let slide the prank they had done that night. But Lance swore, with his hands up in a defensive stance, that they hadn't been responsible for it. Someone else had registered Autumn and me for the game, and the committee only played along. Jerks.

"Anyway, tell us what happened," Lance said, nudging my rib. "Did you two fool around or what?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

I looked at him incredulously. "Who says we fooled around? Don't lump me in together with your kind."

"What kind?"

"Perverted ones."

Oscar coughed a short laugh.

"Fuck you," Lance replied. "What happened at the game then?"

I was reluctant to answer, but I did.

"I... asked her out."

Lance cupped his hands around his mouth and unleashed a deafening howl while Oscar said with a grin, "That took forever. What did she say?"

I shook my head hesitantly. Before I could add something, Lance sputtered a laugh. "Whaaaat? Finn Hunter got fucking rejected? Holy shit!"

As expected from him. The last thing I wanted was for people to hear about it, but thanks to his rude mouth, almost everyone in the hall got the word.

Oscar was a bit more sympathetic. He patted my shoulder and said, "Sucks that things turned out the way they did, but at least you tried, my friend."

"No. I mean, she didn't quite say yes and didn't quite say no either."

"I see."

"I'd move the fuck on," Lance reacted, recovering from his fits at last.

I sneered, "You don't have the credibility to say that when you keep chasing Sunny like a wild horse," though I knew his endeavor was anything but serious.

"That doesn't really sound like a hopeless case. Hannah's also like that when I first asked her out. A hard nut to crack," Oscar replied. His expression became meditative for a second. "I gave it a few more days and then started to escalate things naturally until she got comfortable with the idea of us dating."

"Escalate, like physically or sexually?" Lance cackled.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Moore."

"She said she needs time," I said.

"Which means she considered it and have given it a thought," Oscar answered with an air of confidence. He was the only person in the gang who got into a serious relationship, and now he was acting all high and mighty. "Just continue what seems to be working, man."

"It's a big gamble. What if you lose again, huh?" Lance piped in with a lopsided smile.

I gazed squarely at my friends and said with absolute conviction, "I like a challenge."

Oscar gave me a supportive nod. "You know what they say: you'll never hit the home run if you never swing the bat."

My resolve returned once more.

The bell rang for the first period, and we hurried to our classrooms. By the time I arrived there, Autumn was already at the table, hunched over her notebook. I dropped down next to her, grinned, and said hey. A bare hint of a smile graced the corners of her mouth, but she didn't face me directly.

I sensed that something had begun to change. It wasn't drastic. I imagined our "relationship" as tectonic plates shifting below the surface—slow, invisible, constant. The distance between us was altered, and there was no telling whether we were moving into one another or moving apart.

I chose to believe the former.

I was drilled with the idea that the more I had faith in it, the better the chances it would work; also the idea that a girl like her would be modest and less willing to enter a relationship. If Autumn's eyes, that stormy night, when I had uttered the words, were any indication, I could say that I was the first guy to confess to her, and she didn't know how to react to it.

I thought it would be romantic to show my persistence. I walked her to classes. Offered to carry her bag or books. Talked to her more often and made her laugh. All these were done without coming off forceful. ("Escalate things naturally," as my friend said.) Then she'd see how comforting I was. Faithful. Caring. A potential boyfriend. I wanted her to see that I was real.

I didn't see Autumn much in the afternoon. I spent the break between classes with the Junkyard Chaos outside, discussing the songs we'd perform for the battle of the bands and our new arrangement. It was cool of Ryan to allow me to sing the final song. It was a rather risky move—it's not often that you see the bassist handle the lead vocals—but it was a risk worth taking. And not to brag, but I had a decent singing voice.

After the meeting, I walked back to the school building, but along the way, I met Michael, who, as always, had his hands in his pockets and eyes on the ground. Behind him, far off in the distance, I could see a familiar figure. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me at first, but there was no mistaking it. It was in Autumn. That curly red hair and small frame—her staple features. She was running away at a quick speed as if chasing something.

My suspicions from that night that I thought I had pushed away reared their ugly heads again. And I returned my gaze to the source of it.

"Hey, Mike."

Michael looked up and nodded at me. "Finn."

The moment our shoulders aligned, I stopped and asked him, "Can I talk to you for a bit?"

"Sure."

I cut to the chase. "Are you close with Autumn?"

If we were walking up a staircase, he would have surely stumbled over a step. "Yes."

"Do you like her?"

He took a moment to answer. "Yes."

I felt something bubble up from deep inside me. Something unidentifiable, but strong. I wanted to ball my hands into fists to release it. Michael was a lot taller than I was, towering over my 5'7'' frame by several inches, and he was more mature and more imposing, but I looked at him dead in the eyes. It was that exact moment that I no longer saw him as a big brother figure but as my equal.

"Michael," I said with contrived calmness. "You do know I like her, right?"

He stared back at me with his face lacking emotion. "I know that very well. But there's more than one way to like someone."

"What do you mean?"

"Sure, we're close. We get along okay. But your feelings and mine are different. I like her as a person."

The gears in my head turned as I processed his riddle-like talk. "Like... you would a friend?"

"Precisely."

Whatever emotion was building inside me earlier, it lessened and lessened until I felt my muscles relax. "I won't have to fight you for her, then."

Michael made a half-smile and a grunt of amusement. "You won't have to. Just a little while ago, I put in a good word for you."

I gawked at him. "You what?"

His half-smile grew to a full smile until he was grinning like a gambler getting a royal flush. "Just giving you two a nudge," he said and brushed past me.

Maybe it was relief that my suspicions were proven wrong or maybe it was pride in the idea that I still got the winning hand, but whatever the cause, it prompted an irrepressible chuckle and shaking of the head from me.

"Hey, Michael," I called. "Thanks."

He didn't turn back. He just gave me a thumbs-up.