Page 52 of There's Pumpkin About You
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“We’re going for a drink,” Sam declares as he walks out of the barn just as the sun begins to set.
“Pass,” I mumble as I lift the last crate, wincing.
“We all need one,” he argues. “Your shoulder is killing you, don’t think we’ve all missed that; Bash is on the verge of starting World War Three and all of us in here are tired as fuck.”
It has been a long-ass week. Jamie took the entire week off work just so that he could help. They’ve made some amazing progress already, more than even Finn thought would be done in this time.
“I’m fine,” Bash huffed from behind us, wiping the sweat with his t-shirt. His mood has been sour for a while and people in town are starting to notice. Bernie, who works in the supermarket, came to the farm for his order of pumpkins and during his pathetic attempt at conversing with me, which was hastily declined, he made sure to mention that Bash was shouting at Doctor Shakari in the waiting room of the hospital the other day.
I wasn’t even aware he had gone to the hospital, but so far I’ve kept it to myself since he’s extremely unapproachable when he’s like this.
Sam looks at our brother with a disbelieving glare. “Sebastian, we’re either getting you drunk or laid. Pick one. Look at me, I’ve had no choice but to turn into you since your attitude is turning you into?—”
“You?” Jamie offers from the barn doors. Who decides that purple dungarees and expensive sneakers are appropriate work clothes on a farm, I have no idea, but in all fairness to him, there isn’t a single spec of dirt on them.
Sam shoots him a look. “No, you ass.” I don’t miss the way Jamie’s eyes dip down to my brother’s behind. I roll my eyes and avert my gaze.
“I’m down,” Finn offers. “Can definitely afford to let loose a little since we’re ahead of schedule. I’ve wanted to show Wren, but I haven’t seen her today.”
“She’s been back in Beckford working on the plans for the party with Oakland.”
“Oakleigh,” Finn corrects to which Sam just shrugs.
A green monster puts its weight onto my chest. “How the fuck do you know that?”
I don’t miss the numerous smirks. Even Bash’s lips hold a small one.
“Jealous, little brother?” Sam jests.
“No, idiot.” I’m lying, obviously. All I can think about right now is how good it would feel to leave my older brother with a black eye.
“Then why so tense?”
“I just didn’t know the two of you were close enough for you to know her every move.”
Sam’s smirk turns to a sinister smile. “Does it matter how close we are?”
“No.”
I’m about two minutes away from fucking up my other arm. If I haven’t already, that is.
Jamie steps into the space between me and my brother. “Before Sam gets a fist to the face and a knee to the groin, let’s get all the animals inside and then go get drunk. Sound good?”
Sam chuckles pathetically as he backs up, heading towards the empty field that currently holds Emilio and some of the other animals that like to munch on the grass. I’m too fucked off to explain why it’s an eco-friendly method of reworking the land so it’s ready for another round.
Everyone else follows Sam, even Finn who has been helping out with the farm work wherever he can. I appreciate him. The more I get to know him, the more I see similarities between him and Wren. He’s kind like she is. Selfless, too. They both make it seem like they were put on this earth to help others and even someone as selfish as me can admit that it’s an extremely admirable quality.
It’s a blessing and a curse really, knowing someone so similar to Wren. I hate to admit that I like thinking about her—her long mahogany curls; her almond-shaped eyes that could turn any man into an idiot with just one look; the adorable blush she gets when she’s flustered… and that beauty spot. I seriously have no idea what it is about that beauty spot that has me thinking about it night and day. I used to think that it’s because I’m a sucker for facts and I found the probability of it existing an interesting notion. However, I’ve realized now that that can’t possibly be it.
Maybe it’s because of the fact that I now know how much she dislikes it. I know how insecure it makes her, how she wishes it wasn’t there. I know that she looks in the mirror and sees it every day and dislikes the way it emphasizes the shape of her top lip, the cupid’s bow that sits perfectly in the center. I know how she hates the way it kisses her nose when she scrunches it up in that way that shows she is annoyed or confused.
I know now that I haven’t stopped thinking about it because she tries her hardest not to. And what a sin it is to ignore such beauty.
ChapterTwenty-Four
GUS
