My country side

Fiona #4

The sky was a canvas of pinks and purples as I walked back from Aunt Susan's farm, my boots kicking up dust along the gravel road. I could still taste the pizza we had for dinner, the rich cheese and tomato sauce lingering on my tongue, but that wasn't what was on my mind. Nope, not by a long shot.

Neville was.

I never thought I'd meet someone like him around here, of all places. Susan's nephew, straight from the city, was nothing like the boys I grew up with. He didn't care about farming or fixing things, and you could tell just by the way he looked at the cattle. He wasn't used to dirt under his nails or sweat on his brow, but... my God, he was hot.

His dark hair fell just right over his forehead, and the way his green eyes had sparkled when he smiled... well, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I mean, sure, he was spoiled. You could tell by the way he talked about his life back in the city, like everything was handed to him. Fancy clothes, flashy cars, parties that lasted all night. That kind of life was worlds apart from mine. I lived for sunsets like the one tonight, for early mornings feeding chickens and afternoons helping Dad fix the tractor. I didn't mind the quiet; it was home. But Neville? He seemed out of place in our little town.

As I opened the front door of our farmhouse, the familiar creak of the hinges greeted me. Mom was still up, sitting at the kitchen table with a stack of bills, her forehead creased with worry. I gave her a quick smile before heading upstairs, trying not to think about how much pressure we were under to make ends meet. Tonight, I just wanted to get lost in my thoughts about Neville.

My room was my haven. I shut the door behind me, kicked off my boots, and flopped onto the bed. The soft quilt, sewn by Gran years ago, comforted me as I stared up at the ceiling, lost in the memory of Neville's teasing grin.

He had been so out of his element tonight, making jokes about how "rustic" everything was. He couldn't believe Susan didn't have Wi-Fi on the farm. "How do you *survive*?" he had asked me, wide-eyed and half-serious.

I had just laughed. It was kind of funny, really. Life out here wasn't glamorous, but it was real. You learned to live with what you had, and we made it work. But I had to admit, watching Neville fumble around, trying to figure out what to do with himself, had been... endearing. There was something about him, beneath all that spoiled city-boy exterior, that drew me in.

I closed my eyes, remembering the way his hand brushed mine when we were both reaching for the last slice of pizza. His skin was smooth, warm, and for a second, I'd forgotten who he was. Just a boy, like anyone else. And for that brief moment, I'd wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

"Stop it, Fiona," I muttered under my breath, turning onto my side, pulling my pillow closer. I had no business thinking like that. He wasn't going to stay, that much was obvious. He was here for the summer, maybe even less. His parents had shipped him off to Aunt Susan's farm to teach him some responsibility, or so I'd overheard. He'd probably hate every second of it, counting down the days until he could get back to his fancy city life.

But still...

There was something about Neville that made it hard to ignore him. Maybe it was the challenge, the idea that he was so different from everything I knew. Or maybe it was just the way he looked at me, like I was something... interesting. Like I wasn't just the farm girl.

My thoughts swirled as I lay there, trying to make sense of it all. I knew getting involved with someone like him would be complicated. We were too different. He'd never stay here, and I couldn't imagine myself anywhere else.

But for now, I couldn't help but think about what might happen while he was here. Maybe we'd become friends. Maybe more.

Maybe I was in over my head.

I must have drifted off because when I opened my eyes, the room was dark except for the pale moonlight streaming through the curtains. I groggily reached for my phone, the screen lighting up with the time: 10:13 p.m. I'd only meant to rest for a minute, but that pizza and a long day had knocked me out.

As I sat up, a muffled sound caught my attention. It took a moment for my foggy brain to register what it was. Voices, downstairs. My parents. Arguing. Again.

I rubbed my eyes, feeling the unease settle in my stomach like a rock. The walls in our old farmhouse were thin, and even though I tried not to eavesdrop, it was hard to ignore their voices when they got like this.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and padded toward the door, cracking it open just enough to hear what they were saying.

"...we're falling behind, John!" My mom's voice was tight, strained. "We can't keep ignoring this. If we don't pay the electric bill soon, they're going to cut us off!"

I winced, the guilt creeping in. I knew things had been tough lately. The farm hadn't been doing well, and Dad had taken on extra work in town, but it was never enough. The bills kept piling up. I hated that I couldn't do more to help.

Dad's voice was low and frustrated. "I know, Clara. I know. But what do you want me to do? Sell more land? Sell the damn tractor? I'm doing everything I can." His words were clipped, full of anger, but I could hear the weariness in them, too.

There was a pause, and then Mom spoke again, her voice softer now, but still carrying that edge of desperation. "I don't know, John. But we're sinking. The mortgage is overdue, the credit cards... I've been robbing Peter to pay Paul, and it's catching up with us."

I leaned against the doorframe, heart heavy. This wasn't new. I'd heard versions of this conversation before, but it always hit me hard. I'd grown up on this farm, and I loved it more than anything. But it was getting harder to keep things running, and the thought of losing it terrified me. This was our home. My home.

I wondered if Neville had ever had to worry about things like this. Probably not. His family didn't seem like the type to be scraping by. He'd probably never had to think twice about money or wonder how the bills would get paid.

I swallowed hard, pushing that thought aside. It wasn't fair to compare our lives like that. Neville wasn't the problem. But still, the difference between us felt like a yawning gap, impossible to ignore.

"...Maybe we should talk to Fiona," I heard Mom say after a long pause. "She's getting older, and I know she's been saving up from the summer jobs she's done. Maybe we could borrow—"

"No." Dad's voice was firm, and it startled me. "We're not taking her money. She's worked hard for that, and she's got her whole life ahead of her. College, whatever she wants. We're not pulling her into this mess."

My chest tightened. I hadn't saved up much—just what I'd earned from babysitting, odd jobs around town, and helping at the market—but the fact that they were even considering it made my stomach churn. I hated that they felt so desperate.

I closed the door softly and backed away, not wanting to hear any more. My feet felt heavy as I crossed the room and sat on the edge of my bed, hugging my knees to my chest. The weight of everything pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe for a moment.

I thought about the future, about college. About leaving this place. For years, I'd dreamed of going somewhere new, seeing the world beyond this little town, but now I wasn't so sure. How could I leave them when things were falling apart?

And then there was Neville.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. There was no point in thinking about him right now. He was just a distraction, a fleeting crush. A boy like that wasn't going to stick around, and I didn't have time to get caught up in something that wasn't going anywhere.

But still, my mind wandered back to him, to the way his smile had made my heart race. Maybe it was because he was a reminder of a world beyond my problems, beyond this small town and all its struggles. Or maybe it was because, for a brief moment, I could pretend things were different—easier.

I sighed and lay back down, staring up at the ceiling. Tomorrow, I'd go back to Susan's farm, and I'd probably see him again. But tonight, the weight of reality settled in my chest, making it hard to think about anything but the sound of my parents' voices, still murmuring downstairs.

I closed my eyes, hoping sleep would take me again, but knowing it wouldn't come easy.