Where’s my what? I eye her in confusion.
“What?” I shout again. We look comical, I’m sure of it.
She jogs closer, hands on her hips, when she finally stops in front of the mower. She’s sipping on one of those gel packs I saw my brothers using plenty of times during baseball practice. The sport that’s supposed to be in my blood too, like our dad, but I was never able to play at the caliber needed. I didn’t love it either, so I stayed as far away from the field as possible, sitting in the stands, supporting them instead.
“What did you say?” I ask again, lower this time. I don’t mean to sound like an asshole, but it comes across as such. I immediately notice the way her body recoils.
“Where’s your shirt?” she asks.
“Mm, what an odd thing to ask.”
“Is it? Because just two days ago, you were shouting at me for not wearing enough clothes in the morning, and here you are, looking like Hercules.”
A small snort escapes me, and she beams brighter than any light.
“What’s so funny?”
“Why Hercules?” She doesn’t need to know it’s my favorite Disney movie, or that I rewatch it often.
“You know, all shirtless and like you were thrown down from Mount Olympus.”
She also doesn’t know that, although I love the movie, I also know mythology. My brothers had sports, I had trouble and books. There are only so many times you can get grounded and sent toyour room with only books for you to not fall in love with reading. “Hercules was born in Thebes.”
“Oh, I’m not talking about the Greek myth. I’m talking about Disney, obviously. I’m surprised you don’t know it. Maybe you were already too old to watch it when it came out.”
I laugh this time, unable to contain it, and there she is again, smiling as bright as the sun. Damn, it’s addicting, the way her body relaxes and how her eyes dance with mischief at something as simple as making me laugh. I bet she comes alive with the simplest of praise too.
Fuck that thought, though.
“Wereyoualive when the Disney movie came out?”
“Yup!” she perks up.
“Barely,” I mutter, and she shrugs silently, staring, waiting for something. I’m not sure what, but I hope it’s more conversation. I could go hours without interacting with another human being just fine, but talking to Riley, seeing the way she reacts to the simplest answers,seeingher smile, is addictive.
“It’s hot. That’s why I don’t have a shirt on.” It’s been a chillier May than we were expecting, but as it gets closer to June, the mornings are not as nippy anymore, warming up quickly as the sun rises.
“It’s not that hot.” Says the girl wearing a micro bra and leggings stuck to her strong legs in the best way. There’s no way she’s cold, and if she is, then last week would’ve been worse.
“It is when you’re working.”
“Are you?”
I raise an eyebrow in question.
“Working?”
I open my arms, showing her the beast I’m sitting on and the clear pasture behind me.
“Looks like showing off to me.” She leaves me reeling and smiling like a dumbass. So bratty.
“I’m going to breakfast in thirty if you wanna come!” she shouts somewhere behind me, but I don’t dare to turn around. Iturn on the key, and a loud vroom reverberates through me as I continue my task.
Every inch of my body came to life at her invitation to join her for breakfast, but I can’t and I won’t. Spending more time with her is the opposite of what I need.
It’s ten p.m., and I can’t go to sleep, not even after working my ass off all day. The day, as predicted, was humid as fuck and had me sweating before I got my boots on.
May is no joke—it's high green season, and the work is relentless, blending late spring calving with the race to prepare for summer. Add the summer camp readiness, I said I was willing to lend a hand, and the work is never-ending.
