Love in the Fields

8

The morning sun hung low and golden, casting a warm, honeyed light over the fields as Camila and Lauren loaded up the last few crates of fresh produce into the truck. The air was still cool, touched with the earthy smell of soil and dew, but the promise of a warm day lingered in the breeze.

Camila tossed her hair up into a quick bun, her cheeks already flushed from the work. "So, remind me why I agreed to help out with this farmer's market again?" she teased, glancing over at Lauren.

Lauren leaned against the truck with a smirk. "Because you secretly love lugging crates of tomatoes at six in the morning?" she shot back, her eyes glinting with humour.

"Right, right. How could I forget?" Camila laughed, wiping her hands on her jeans before climbing into the truck's passenger seat.

The drive into town was filled with easy conversation and music that spilled out from the truck's speakers, Lauren humming along as they wound through the countryside. Camila let herself enjoy the warmth of the sun filtering through the windows, the rolling hills, and fields stretching out as far as she could see. It felt strangely peaceful, a stark contrast to the buzz of city life she was used to. With Lauren next to her, chatting about the quirks of each vendor at the market, Camila found herself looking forward to the day in a way she hadn't expected.

They arrived at the market just as the vendors were setting up their stalls. Rows of colourful tents and tables dotted the square, each stall boasting fresh fruits, vegetables, handmade crafts, and baked goods that filled the air with the smell of bread and pastries. The whole place buzzed with energy—locals wandering from stall to stall, calling out to friends, children tugging at their parents' hands to see the honey stand or the display of wooden toys.

Lauren parked the truck and jumped out, grabbing the first crate of vegetables from the back. Camila followed, lifting a crate of apples and feeling the weight settle in her arms.

"Think you can handle that?" Lauren asked, her tone teasing.

"Please," Camila scoffed, sticking out her tongue as she lifted the crate a little higher. "I could carry this in my sleep."

Lauren laughed, nudging her playfully with her elbow as they walked toward their stall. "I'll remember that next time you complain about being sore from farm work."

Camila rolled her eyes but smiled, feeling a thrill at their easy banter.

Setting up their stall was a quick affair. They spread out fresh tomatoes, squash, cucumbers, and a basket filled to the brim with plump berries. Camila stepped back to admire the setup, hands on her hips. "Not bad," she remarked, grinning at Lauren. "You might actually know what you're doing."

Lauren feigned offense, clutching her chest dramatically. "Might actually know? Camila, I'll have you know this stall is practically famous around here."

"Oh, famous?" Camila arched an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Then I'd better take my job as your assistant very seriously."

Lauren chuckled, reaching for a small basket of berries and holding it out toward her. "Then you'd better know the product well, Miss Assistant. Want a taste?"

Camila smirked, plucking a single berry from the basket and popping it into her mouth. "Mm, quality control. Good thinking."

Just as she was reaching for another berry, Lauren pulled the basket away with a mock-stern look. "Hey! Not too many—we still have to sell those, you know."

"Oh, come on," Camila pouted, leaning in closer with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You wouldn't deny me a few more, would you?"

Lauren's eyes sparkled with laughter, her voice dropping slightly as she handed Camila another berry. "Just this once. But if I catch you sneaking any more, I might have to take drastic measures."

"Drastic measures?" Camila grinned, her heart skipping a beat at the hint of flirtation in Lauren's voice. "I'd love to see you try."

They stood there for a moment, a small bubble of silence between them as they held each other's gaze. Lauren's smirk softened, and for a brief second, Camila wondered if Lauren's hand might reach out, brush a strand of hair from her face, or linger just a little too long. But then, a customer approached, and they both quickly snapped back into focus.

As the morning wore on, a steady stream of people came by the stall. Lauren greeted each person with a warm smile, her easygoing nature making everyone feel welcome. Camila followed her lead, learning the subtle rhythms of the market: the older man who bought tomatoes every week without fail, the young mom who always asked for recipe tips, the elderly couple who took their time selecting the ripest cucumbers.

Every so often, Camila would catch Lauren glancing her way, a flicker of something warm in her gaze that sent a thrill through Camila's chest. She found herself sneaking more berries, just to see the playful exasperation on Lauren's face when she "caught" her.

"Camila!" Lauren laughed, catching her red-handed yet again. "Honestly, at this rate, you'll eat all the profit."

"What? I'm just... making sure they're good," Camila replied innocently, licking the berry juice from her lips with a wink.

Nearby, a few vendors exchanged amused glances, clearly noticing the easy warmth between them. One of the older women running a flower stand even nudged her friend, whispering something and glancing in their direction with a knowing smile.

As the sun climbed higher, they found a brief lull in the crowd. Lauren stretched, looking out over the bustling square. "Want to take a quick break? I'll watch the stall."

"Don't mind if I do," Camila replied, grateful for a moment to step back and soak it all in.

She wandered over to a nearby lemonade stand, her eyes still drifting back to Lauren, who was chatting animatedly with a regular customer. Watching her from a distance, Camila felt a strange sense of pride and something warmer, something that made her stomach flutter. There was something incredibly appealing about the way Lauren interacted with people—genuine, kind, making each person feel like they were the most important one there.

"Thinking about something special?" a voice piped up beside her.

Camila turned to find the older woman from the flower stand smiling at her, holding out a small bouquet of wildflowers. "You've been eyeing that girl all morning. You know, they say flowers help with matters of the heart."

Camila felt her cheeks flush. "Oh, no, it's not like that," she stammered, taking the flowers more out of surprise than anything else. "We're just... friends. We work together."

The woman chuckled knowingly. "Well, it looks like more than work to me. Just something to think about." She winked before turning back to her own stall, leaving Camila standing there with the flowers in her hand.

When Camila returned to the stall, Lauren looked down at the bouquet, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Who gave you those?"

Camila shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Just a little gift from one of the vendors. She said they'd be... helpful."

Lauren arched an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. "Helpful, huh? Should I be worried?"

Camila grinned, feeling a rush of boldness. "Maybe. Guess you'll just have to wait and see."

They shared a long, charged look, the noise of the market fading around them. Camila felt her heart pounding, the warmth between them thickening, almost tangible. She could sense something shifting in the way Lauren looked at her—curiosity, warmth, and maybe even a hint of longing that matched her own.

By the time they packed up the stall and loaded the truck to head home, Camila's heart was still racing, the unspoken moments lingering between them like the faint scent of wildflowers in the air. She glanced at Lauren as they drove, each lost in their own thoughts, but every so often their eyes would meet, a quiet smile passing between them.

As the truck rumbled along the dirt road, the sun dipping low in the sky, Camila couldn't help but wonder where this was leading. And for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel the need to rush it or to define it. She was content to let the feeling linger, enjoying every lingering glance and shared smile, savoring the mystery of whatever was slowly blossoming between them.