" "You're so kissable right now," he snickers."Shut up." "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just really cute you care so much." I quickly look around. "Milan..." I sneer at him. "Don't call me cute out here. I mean it!" He raises an eyebrow. "So I can call you cute once we're inside?" I sigh. "Whatever." He laughs. Needless to say, our walk back is filled with much less laughter and chatting. I suddenly feel like I'm being watched. As if everyone around me knows what we've been doing. It embarrasses me. Neither of us had siblings, so we gravitated to being best friends. She was mature for her age, and I was just as immature for mine, so it worked out.Her folks had about forty acres of orchard, mostly prunes and peaches, with enough apple trees to provide an inexhaustible supply of fruit for pies. I was amazed at the number of different ways Annie's mom could make apple pie. The plan when they bought the property was to work out a deal with a winery for them to plant and maintain vineyards, so. More

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