The Country Mile

5. Farm Boy

(A/N: For those who don't know what a flatbed is, refer to the pic above!)

The sound of a diesel truck woke me up from my afternoon nap on Thursday, my math homework still scattered in front of me and still, sadly empty.

Why couldn't God just send me some angel to do my homework?

With a yawn, and hearing my grandpa's voice, I dragged myself past my vanity -only to realize I looked horrendous since my hair seemed to now stand in every direction- and over to my window, looking down. A black truck with a hay decorated flat bed which was backed up to Besty's, our milkcow, pen. Grandpa was talking to someone I had yet to see before walking and disappearing into our back door, which led into the kitchen.

A gasp escaped my lips as I ducked down when I saw him walking.

What the hell is Ashton Thorn doing here?!

With a nerve racking confidence, I peeked over the window seal only to see his truck leaving. Thank you lord, thank you. Mentally slapping myself of being nervous over some guy I didn't even know, I stood and ran a brush though my hair before making my way downstairs for a snack.

I wasn't even halfway down the steps when my grandma called out my name.

"Yeah?" I yelled back.

"Come here," Thankfully enough, her voice came from the kitchen. My mismatched sock covered feet were quiet as I walked towards her voice, the smell of chocolate cookies kissing my nose.

"These cookies smell so-" Words caught themselves in a small squeak as I saw Aston Thorn standing here. In my grandmother's kitchen. No more than five feet away from me; he wore his usual git-up of a black hoodie, jeans, and beat up boots.

"I don't know if you have met this young man, but this is Aston Thorn. His family owns the farm three miles west of here," Susan cooed over the boy, placing a stack of fresh baked cookies atop the kitchen island and his camo ball cap from earlier sat near the cookies. "He delivers hay and stuff every now and then, so-"

"Susan!" My grandpa suddenly called from outside the backdoor; my grandma excused herself as she grumbled and left me and Ashton alone. Alone...

Silence settled over us as I purposefully ignored his honey eyes, opening the retro fridge, and peering at everything inside; Susan usually yelled at me when I looked 'too long' in the fridge, but so help me if I had to look at the honey eyes behind me.

"Want anything to drink?" No, no, no. Shut up lips, quiet talking! Don't make a fool of yourself.

"What cha' have?" Country twang plus me equaled a nervous mess.

"Milk, some pop, juice..."

"Pop, I guess." With a nod, I grabbed two Dr.Peppers and turned around, sliding the can over to him then proceeded to grab two small glass plates. When I finally met his capturing gaze, he raised an eyebrow towards the plate and back to me.

"Susan will kill us if we get crumbs over her kitchen," I chuckled at his confusion, grabbing two cookies as I sat down on the white stool. Ashton chuckled and grabbed a few cookies before sitting next to me, only one chair separated us, and his cologne of what smelled like peppermint and rain danced its way to my nose.

"I didn't know she'd kill us," Ashton chuckled, taking a bite from his cookie.

Swallowing my own mouthful of chocolate, I nodded. "Oh yeah, as in dead dead, kill us,"

"Didn't know there was a dead and dead dead," He countered back, taking the last bite from his cookie and in my peripheral vision, I could see him glance towards me.

"Really?" A sudden confidence arose in me.

"Really, mismatched."

"Mismatched?" Opening my pop and downing almost half, I looked towards him with confusion and nearly melting from his hotness, I noticed he had dimples each time he smiled.

Ashton pointed to my socks. "Mismatched." Red rose to my cheeks as I peered down to my one neon yellow and one teal blue sock.

"Way to point out the obvious, farm boy," His pink lips fell for just a moment that soon rose into a smirk, his dimples now only showing on one of his gold skinned cheeks, and his honey eyes glittered with humor.

Ashton opened his mouth to speak when my grandpa grumbled in through the doorway, interrupting the both of us as my grandma was hot on his heels. I stood and cleaned up my spot of crumbs, now empty pop can, and plate; turning around, I saw Ashton's eyes suddenly flash up as if he had just been checking me out...

Maybe I was seeing things... Maybe not.

"George, you need to put your tools away!" My grandmother's voice spoke as I smirked at Ashtons now pink cheeks. Walking towards him, I grabbed his empty plate and can, ridding of both before leaning over the kitchen island towards Ashton.

"This isn't the end of this conversation, mismatched..."

"I hope not farm boy," With a satisfied smirk resting upon my lips, I walked out of the kitchen and when I was sure no one saw me, rushed upstairs and squealed into my pillow.

I had finally talked to Aston after crushing hard for four days.

I talked to farm boy.