Standards

An hour later, they were descending the steps once again under the massive tree, curling down its wide wooden steps.

August could feel the change in the air that happened around this time of year. It reminded her of Halloween. The smell of damp leaves had been lingering for awhile, but now its layers were thick and there was a hint of frigid weather to come.

"I asked Greta if we could use the Jeep, but she has something going on," Graeme mumbled. "My old car is at my parent's house. Would you mind using that until we get one of our own?"

"Of course. Why would I mind?" August asked.

"Well, you haven't seen it yet. It may not be up to your standards," he said.

"My standards? What—do I seem superficial to you?" August stopped, eyeing him.

"No, that's not what I meant," he chuckled. "I just want you to be comfortable."

She crossed her arms, looking down at him as he had continued a few steps before pausing to turn to her.