An unwelcomed proposition.
1847 Words
The air hung heavy and sweet with the smell of sun-warmed hay and distant pine, a scent that was the true signature of this corner of the county.
She looks over at the two story house that doesn't seem like it should be there. Like it was ripped right out of you favorite fairytale.
It wasn't the size of the place, which was modest enough, but the sheer, almost defiant, perfection of its upkeep. With its immaculate white siding and the dark, forest-green shutters, it stood like a carefully placed set piece against the rugged backdrop of dusty cow pastures and utilitarian farm structures.
It radiated a comforting, storybook tranquility that made the reality of the work-a-day farm surrounding it seem temporary.
Kayla settled her weight back in the saddle, easing her horse, Coda, into a slow, rhythmic canter. The heat of the late afternoon pressed against her.
The asphalt road, normally quiet, offered a straight, steep shot down to the lower fields, a route Blake loved for its speed. In the distance, a high-pitched whirring sound of gears spinning rapidly, a sound that always signaled his recklessness, grew louder.
The bike speeds down the hill toward the long grey chicken houses behind the house past the Cow field. Blake's trusty old red mountain bike was practically an extension of his competitive nature, and he never missed a chance to use this slope to its maximum effect.
Kayla found herself slowing, anticipating the moment he would have to skid to a halt to avoid a disaster. It made her smile despite herself.
She knew precisely where he was headed and why he was racing back so fast.
I'm sure his dad called him down to help with the up coming bitties that they'll sell for food.
The annual chick delivery was a massive undertaking, requiring all hands on deck to ensure the new broiler houses were prepped, heated, and ready to receive thousands of tiny, cheeping lives.
It was hard, dusty, thankless work that required early mornings and late nights, and Blake generally hated it, which only made his current urgency to return more understandable-he was likely ditching the cleanup.
She urged Coda forward slightly, allowing the Persian-cross to clip-clop a few more paces closer toward the house.
Her attention wavered for a moment, caught by a shimmering, silver flash in her peripheral vision. She was only about to turn the corner when she decided to look out at the pond.
The water, still and deep green beneath the tall willow trees, was a hub of silent, relentless activity. She leaned slightly in her saddle, the leather creaking softly, and watched the drama unfold.
She seen bass jumping out of the water either chasing food or running for there lives as catfish swim for them. It was a stark, beautiful reminder of the harsh natural world that thrived just beyond the perfectly manicured lawn.
The cycle of predator and prey, the frantic splash, the quick gulp, all happening in the silent, golden light of the setting sun.
She pulled her gaze away from the pond just as the whirring noise reached a crescendo. She about two yards away from the house when she sees the red bike speed toward her up the hill.
He must have seen her from the base of the rise, because the strain on his face instantly melted away, replaced by pure, unadulterated pleasure.
A smile plastered on the drivers face. It was the kind of smile that was a solar flare, impossible to ignore, and it automatically triggered a mirroring response from her.
She didn't even have to think about it; She can't help but wave at him. Blake braked hard, the tires spitting a fine spray of dust and gravel as he executed a flawless stop right beside her. He was breathless but utterly triumphant.
"Whoa, cowgirl! I almost didn't see you behind that magnificent beast," he teased, wiping sweat from his brow. "Sorry kayla Emily has cheer practice. She told me she had to go-something about a competition lineup. I told her you'd ride up here going all cowgirl like old times," Blake laughed.
His laugh was easy, rich, and confident. But the jab about the horse stung just a little, a familiar little pinprick of unnecessary rudeness.
"Oh," Kayla said smiling at the man in front of her not sure as to why he's being so rude to her today. It wasn't mean, not exactly, just carelessly dismissive of the fact that riding Coda was her passion, her escape. She tightened her grip on the reins, trying to mask the slight annoyance that ruffled her composure.
He leaned in conspiratorially, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "I told her y'all didn't have practice. I figured if you were riding all the way out here, it couldn't be for something boring like cheer. Unless you came here to see little old me," his grin twinkled in the sun light.
The sun caught the golden streaks in his hair and the deep sapphire of his eyes, creating a halo effect that always seemed to draw people in. It was a well-practiced, high-wattage charm.
"Oh, umm, no," Kayla let out a little but nervous laugh. The nervousness wasn't entirely fake; his intensity was always unnerving.
"I came to get Emily, she's been bugging me about going to see my house," Kayla says. She desperately needed a believable distraction, a mundane reason to justify her presence and deflate the charged atmosphere he'd instantly created.
She took the opportunity to dismount. Her legs felt stiff after the ride, and she welcomed the solid feel of the earth beneath her boots. She slide down off her horse, she slowly walks toward him to get coda some water.
The hose spigot was attached to the side of the garage, just a few feet from where Blake stood. His smile grew bigger every step she took.
He interpreted her movement as intimacy, a deliberate closing of the gap. He dropped his bike and planted his hands on his hips, his tone shifting from joking to mock-serious, though the desire was barely concealed in his voice.
"Is this were we kiss like old times. You always needed a break from the heat, and I was always there, conveniently. I miss those days you'd run into my arms for dear life," Blake says puckering up his lips.
He was referencing a summer years ago when they'd played a ridiculous game of tag through the high weeds, a memory she cherished as a childlike moment of safety, but which he clearly recast in his mind as a prelude to romance.
"No, silly, there will be nun of that. I just need some water for Coda," Kayla blushes. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck and staining her cheeks.
She was embarrassed both by his forwardness and by the fact that he could still, after all this time, make her blush at all.
Pushing him ever so slightly but hard enough for him to get the point. It was a firm, definitive shove, meant to establish the boundary he kept trying to dismantle.
Blake's smile soldiers for a minute but he quickly recovers before she notices. The light in his eyes dulled for a fraction of a second, the look of a plan misfiring, before the charm snapped back into place.
He gave a theatrical shrug, though the attempt to regain his easy composure didn't quite work. She felt awkward around him lately.
That mild discomfort had crystallized into something far more complicated. Deep down she was scared and she new why.
He wanted her.
The truth of it pulsed between them, a tangible, suffocating heat that had nothing to do with the setting sun. The feelings are just one-sided though.
Yes, she loved him fiercely and unequivocally, but as a brother-a confidant, a partner in crime, a lifelong constant. At first it was different-a childhood crush had flared briefly when she was twelve-but it slowly changed.
She had grown up and grown past it; he, however, had not. He seen her as more the a sisterly type way. She knew that she had tried to rationalize the situation away, telling herself he was just being Blake, that he joked with everyone.
She always pushed that feeling deep down because they've been friends since they were kids. Ever since they found out they lived across two large pastored only 3 acres of wooded land between those huge pastored.
The three acres was their secret kingdom, a rugged patch of dense oak and tangled briar they had explored until they knew every path, every creek crossing, every hidden fort.
That shared history-the mud, the sweat, the secrets whispered in the shade-was the foundation of her platonic love for him. He saw it as the foundation of something else entirely.
"Kayla!" Blake calls out to her for the fifth time. His voice was sharper now, the easy tone replaced by a thread of exasperation. He's starting to get worried and a little annoyed that's she openly ignoring him.
She had zoned out completely while letting Coda drink, lost in the thorny complexities of their relationship.
"Huh? What were you saying?" she giggles coming out of her train of thought. Her laughter was a defensive reflex, a desperate attempt to reset the mood.
His eyes grow in size as he thought of a plan. He had grown accustomed to a different kind of girl, one who didn't require effort or deflection.
He's use to girls dropping at his feet. It wasn't hard to understand why. With his golden blonde hair and ocean blue eyes, and toned body of a Greek god-the result of relentless farm work and an obsessive dedication to his high school sports-he was practically a walking magnet for attention.
He always did think to highly of himself, one day it'll bite him in the ass. He expected things to be handed to him, especially adoration.
The only girls who willingly threw themselves at him were for the better word w****s, girls who saw him as a trophy, a means to temporary fun, not a person to genuinely connect with.
He thought he'd have her by now, but all his plans fail. He'd tried everything from grand, public gestures to quiet, intense one-on-one moments, and every attempt was met with her genuine, oblivious, sisterly affection.
"Sorry, Blake, what were you saying?" Kayla laughed at the awkward silence. It felt like the air had solidified, trapping them in a tense, unspoken confrontation.
She been getting cought in her subconscious lately. The pond, the house, the memories-they were all blending into a thick fog she couldn't escape.
A lot more then she should. She was aware, suddenly and painfully, that she was losing the ability to simply be present with him without the heavy weight of what might have been, and what he still hoped would be, pressing down on her.
- Writer
