I steer the tractor, leading it towards the bail of hay that needs to be moved upfield. I run over something and the tractor makes a terrible screeching noise. I wince. I hope that didn’t ruin anything. I carefully turn the tracker around and line it up with the hay. I back the spike slowly into the center of the hay bail and lift gradually. I do this a dozen more times, and by the time I’m done, the sun is already halfway up the sky. I park the tracker in the barn and head over to the house, where my Mom is no doubt making lunch. I walk through the sliding glass door at the back of the house. Grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup sit on the table, and my little brother is already attacking his plate.
“Conner! How many times have I told you to wash your hands before you eat?” My Mom says with her Southern accent.
My brother frowns but obeys, walking over to the kitchen sink. Some eggs sit beside it, put there by my brother from his earlier chores.
My Mom spots me in the doorway, “You finish’ moving the hay yet?”
I nod, walking over to the sink to also wash my hands, “Yep. Got it all.”
She nods in approval. I sit down at the table and start digging into my meal.
My Mom sits down with us, “I need you to go to town today, we’re runnin’ out of some stuff. I made a list. It’s in the fridge when you're ready.”
I nod, my mouth full. We sit the rest of the meal in silence, enjoying Mom’s wonderful cooking. After lunch, I grab the list and take my Mom’s beat-up truck to town.
I drive along the worn dirt path, the truck jumping slightly. The town is about forty-five minutes away, so I have a bit of a drive. I turn up the radio and relax, the sight of our farm on my right. The drive flies by and before I know it, the sign announcing Welcome to (town name here) comes up. The small town is barely a town. It’s tiny compared to the city a few hours away. I park in front of the only grocery store in town and head in. The small bell above the door lets out a little ding as I swing the door open.
I walk through the store with a small basket in hand and the store clerk, John, nods to me.
“Just in time. We’re about to close. I have an emergency and nobody can fill in for me. Please be quick,” he says.
I hurriedly go through the store, checking everything off the list. As I round the corner of one of the isles, I run right into someone. My basket comes flying out of my hand and all the stuff goes skidding all over the floor.
I look up to see a guy about my age, sixteen or seventeen. He has shaggy black hair that frames his abnormally pale face. He is wearing sunglasses, and black ripped jeans with a black v-neck t-shirt that is tight enough to show how muscular this guy is.
“Sorry,” I mutter, scooping up the stuff off the floor.
“Ok, well watch where you’re going next time,” he snaps.
“Um…‘scuse me?” I ask, dumbfounded by the sudden rudeness. This is just as much his fault as it is mine.
“You heard me,” he says, stepping over the rest of the stuff on the floor.
I watch him walk away in swift strides. What's that guy's deal? And what's with the sunglasses indoors? I sigh, thinking, Just another idiot thinking he is better than everyone else.
I quickly go back to pick up and finish getting everything I need. I leave the store as quickly as possible, not wanting to run until the rude stranger again. Afterwards, I head to get ice cream from the nearby Dairy Queen. I make my way home about ten minutes later. As I pull into the driveway, I see a black Ford Mustang parked in front of the porch. Who could be here? I get out of the truck, grab the groceries, and rush up to the porch. As I step over the threshold, a sudden smell hits my nose. Cookies. As I walk around the kitchen, I can hear my mom talking to someone. I look up at the other person in the room. He’s sitting on the bar stool with his back toward me. His shaggy black hair is sticking up everywhere.
“Hey, honey did ya get everything?” she asks, as I walk around the table.
“Yep, I couldn’t find any extra leather gloves though. I don’t know what ya need them for anyway,” I hand her the bags.
The other person in the room turns around in the stool, putting his elbows on the table and looking at me. I do a quick glance at his face. It’s him, the ass from the store. The guy is still wearing the shady sunglasses.
“This is Ryan, he will be the new ranch hand. He is staying in the extra bedroom upstairs next to yours. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you,” my mom says, smiling.
“What? You never told me there would be a new ranch hand. I don’t need help. I do everything perfectly fine,” I look at Ryan, who is giving me a grim look.
“Honey, you work too hard. You never have free time to have fun,” she says, jabbing a finger in my direction, “You need the help.”
My face flushes with heat, “Jeez, mom! Way to make me sound like an old man.”
She rolls her eyes and turns to Ryan. “Please excuse his rudeness, Ryan. This is my son Carl. Carl, will ya take Ryan up to his room please?” She looks at me like it is not an option.
He follows me as we walk upstairs.
“Here is your room. I didn’t know you would be comin’. Otherwise, I would’ve put clean sheets on the bed,” I start to rip off the sheets, and as I am doing so Ryan sets his bag down.
“So… Your name is Carl Cameron?” Ryan asks with his back turned to me digging through his bag. I'm hit with sudden annoyance.
“Yeah, it is,” I say, bunching up the sheets and grabbing new ones out of the top drawer of the dresser.
He chuckles and turns to me. Pulling the clean sheets out of my hands.
“Carl’s a terrible name,” he mutters. I don’t know if he wanted me to hear that. “I’ve got this.”
I leave him to it, thankful that I didn’t have to stay longer with a jerk like him. I go downstairs to help my Mom set the table. My brother comes in just in time for dinner. We all sit quietly eating for a bit, then my mom smiles at me.
“Carl, guess who stopped by today! Tasha and Josh! He was wondering where you were. I told him you had just left. He asked if you could call tonight, I told him you might after dinner.”
Tasha is mom’s best friend, and Josh is her son. We kinda have a thing for each other, but we have never taken it farther than going to the movies once.
“Are y’all dating yet?” Conner asks over the table giggling.
“Shut up! Why do you think we would date?” I ask, my stomach is doing a flip of just the thought of Josh.
Ryan walks in right as I say this, a strange emotion flashing over his face. He opens the front door and walks out. Where is he going? I have the urge to follow him but decide otherwise.
Later, I’m in the hallway bathroom brushing my teeth. Right as I’m finishing up, Ryan walks in. I scowl and shove my toothbrush into the cabinet trying to get out of there. He stands in the doorway, blocking my way.
“Um, excuse me. I need to get out,” I say, getting annoyed again.
I looked him up and down and noticed he was holding a tote in his hands with his toothbrush, toothpaste, and soaps. I hurry over and he walks in, giving me room to walk out as he’s putting his tote on the closed toilet seat. I look back and see brown stains on his clothes. His back is towards me as he pulls his black shirt over his head, revealing his muscular shoulders and biceps. My face heats up and I turn back around quickly, swiftly walking to my bedroom. I flop down on my bed, grabbing the book I am halfway finished with. I open the page I marked with a doggie ear and start to read, but before I get anywhere, I hear a deep voice start to sing so pleasantly and it feels comforting somehow. I step out into the hall slowly edging to the cracked shut bathroom door. Ryan is singing “Just The Way You Are” as he scrubs his head with shampoo. The bathroom is steaming and the mirror is fogged. I listen to him, mesmerized by this music coming from such an uptight person. I go back to my room before he finishes. I lay in bed thinking how beautiful the song sounded coming from his mouth. Then I remember how disrespectful and rude he is. I promise myself, I will not think kindly about this stranger in my house. I will always know him as an ass with no heart.
18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGP60A10QqM
