Taking Root (Stardew Valley - Shane)

Chapter Six

I hate those moments when I become hyperaware of everything. The hard edge of the mahogany dining chair pressing into my lower thigh, the two eyelashes on my left eye that repeatedly and irritatingly stuck together each time I blinked. Ten minutes ago, the constant hums and creaks of the heated oven wouldn't have even made me flinch - but now, in the silence of the kitchen, I could hear them louder than ever.

"He's not much of a talker, our Shane." Marnie finally interrupted the quiet with her warm, softly-spoken voice as she dressed her small hands in a pair of red gingham oven gloves. "But he warms up to you once he knows you better."

I think there was a greater chance of a giant meteorite striking my farm than that ever happening.

Marnie peered quizzically over her shoulder at me as she slid the trays of freshly baked goods out of the oven and onto a dark marbled cutting board that sat on her kitchen counter. Damn, could she read my mind? Look, I know it sounds silly, but I can't be the only one out there that has asked that question. As a child, I would sometimes convince myself that the older people around me had the ability to see right into my head, to read my thoughts as if they were simply flicking through a magazine. To test my theory, I would make the voice in my mind scream at the most unexpected time, and see if anyone in the room flinched. But what if they were trained by MI5 to resist such attempts to expose them? My last and only remaining option was to repeat nonsense over and over in my mind to hide my true thoughts. That was until I got bored and wandered off to play animal crossing: wild world under the tangled covers of my bed.

Maybe Marnie couldn't read my mind. Because if she was listening in right now, her face would look far, far more concerned.

Three plates were laid down on the table in front of me, boxed in with neatly placed cutlery. The gentle rhythm of a song danced through the air from a small stereo system in the corner of the room, where plastic CD cases and porcelain knick-knacks littered a red-painted shelf above. The dull white-noise of the shower had come to a stop for a few minutes now. I saw Shane enter my vision for the second time this evening - his rain-soaked clothes had been switched for a grey, short-sleeved t-shirt that hugged his upper-arms and a pair of black jogging bottoms.

"Mm, doesn't this look delicious." Marnie sung to herself, transferring piping-hot peppers and handfuls of golden potato wedges onto plates using a wooden spatula. A large, plastic bowl of mixed salad sat in the middle of the table, a pair of tongs poking out the top ready to be useful. Marnie turned to her nephew and pointed to the spot next to me. "Sit down, Shane."

I watched as his eyes trailed along her arm and rested on the seat she was pointing at. As he took his place next to me, I felt his right arm brush against mine for a split-second before he increased the distance between us with a few drags of his chair. We were still sitting quite close to each other. Close enough for me to see the tips of his hair on the nape of his neck still damp from the shower, his cheeks flushed a little from the heat, and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"What?" Shane spoke in a harsh tone, his eyes flitting to meet mine for the first time since he emerged from his shower. "Is there something on my face?"
"I- no."
"Then stop staring at me."

He said it so matter-of-factly, his attention immediately dropping me as soon as the words left his mouth, leaving me no time to react. I didn't know what on earth to say in response anyway. I wasn't even staring at him. Like, talk about self-obsessed. I just hadn't seen him close up before, to properly study each feature of his angsty face. Now, I was determined not to lay my eyes on his stupid head for longer than three seconds all night.

"Shane, be nice for once." Marnie scolded him softly from across the table. "Sophie's new in town. You remember what that's like, don't you?"
"Mm." Shane mumbled through a mouthful of food.
"She's moved into Gerald's farm. Remember him?"
"Mm."