12. Boone

Twelve

Boone

Spending my afternoon trying to get the chickens accustomed to their new coop wasn’t what I saw myself doing today. I didn’t think chickens were half bad. That was until I had them in my truck, chirping and shitting all over their box, not to mention trying to climb out of said box while I was driving. I was flooded with relief when I pulled in the driveway and put them outside where they belonged.

Having so much chaos this afternoon helped keep my mind off of Aspen. When she called me drunk last night, I knew I should’ve been there from the beginning. I should’ve roped the boys into going out with me under the disguise of going out for a good time.

When I got to the bar, her reaction was everything I didn’t know I needed. Seeing her face light up with a huge smile as she ran at me elicited such a pleasant feeling. However, thinking of her placing my hat on her head brought back all the guilt I felt. I didn’t know what came over me, taking it off her head like that. I didn’t want it to be fake or purely alcohol induced. I had plenty of girls put my hat on their head, claiming that they wanted me to take them home for the night. With Aspen, I felt different. I wanted her to keep the hat on for more than one night.

Trust me when I say, I would’ve happily let the whole bar watch me claim her so no one else would get any ideas. But I wanted Aspen in more ways than that, and I wasn’t ready to broach that subject. I’d avoid those thoughts until the feelings would go away, and being just friends would be enough.

When I went outside the front door for some fresh air, movement from Aspen’s porch caught my attention. Every night she sat on the porch swing with a glass of wine and a book. Tonight was no different. My legs moved before my brain could stop me, and I jogged down the steps on a mission toward her porch.

When I was closer, she looked up at me and smiled. That was a sight I’d burn into my brain. I’d cherish the image and revisit it whenever I needed to feel something.

“Well, you’re right on time,” she teased, scooting over to make room for me on the swing. She wrapped her blanket tighter around her legs, taking a sip of the red liquid in her glass.

“What are we reading tonight?” I asked her, sitting down and draping my arm over the back of the swing. The urge to touch her shoulder or bring her in closer was strong. Instead, I focused on restraint.

“It’s a second chance romance. Winn and Harriet were engaged, but now they aren’t. They haven’t told any of their friends yet. Now, they’re all going on vacation together. They have to pretend to still be in love.” She closed her book and reached to place it on the railing in front of us. “They obviously both still love each other,” she elaborated before sinking back against the swing.

“Sounds…” I paused, trying to find the right words. “Entertaining?”

Aspen lets out a short laugh. “I guess you could say that.”

I pushed against the floor, making the swing move gently back and forth. “How was the rest of your day?” I questioned, both of us staring out to the horizon.

Aspen scoffed. “As good as it can be while visiting my parents.”

I turned towards her, looking at her side profile. I love the shape of her nose, it swoops down to a cute little button. “Want to talk about it?”

“Actually, yeah.” She took another sip of her wine. “I want to start by saying I love my parents, so what I’m about to say doesn’t take away from that. My parents wanted a much different life for me than I’m living. They wanted me to be a nurse or in the tech field, both of which sound nothing like me. They’ve been hounding me for years to get a ‘real job’ and pretty much grow up. It doesn’t matter how often I say that I’m happy or that I liked working at The Coffee Cup. An important job doesn’t define me. I want to have time to read my books and enjoy life. It’s so hard to have them see my side in anything. To me, life is more than working for a paycheck.” She let out a shaky breath. “My dream is to become an author.”

In the short time I’d really known Aspen, I could tell being an author was perfect for her. She constantly had her nose in a book and it’s something she was passionate about. I was a firm believer in “if you loved your job, you’d never work a day in your life.”

“Okay. Then do it,” I said, looking down at her. There was a sparkle in her eyes like she was hearing those few words for the first time. My body moved closer on instinct, and I could smell the familiar scent of her skin. Before Aspen, I didn’t care much for blueberries, but now, I had a new favorite fruit.

“See, if I ever told my parents that, they would laugh at me or tell me that it wasn’t realistic. I love books. I love imagining the stories I could create. I lie to them every time they ask what my next steps are or where I see myself. I tell them I have it all handled when, in reality, I don’t. I’m so scared to write a book. I’m full of self-doubt and insecurities,” she said, and I toyed with the information in my head.

“Why not go for it? Why let your parents have that much control?” I asked, clearly prying.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I could write about something I haven’t experienced or something I don’t understand,” she replied.

“What do you want to write about?”

“Love. Romance.” She looked out in the distance. “I love when I read a story and it makes me feel like I’m a part of it. The emotions you get and the euphoria that comes along when you find a great book is indescribable. I want to create stories that people can relate to and feel the same way I do.” She took another sip of her drink, laying her head back on the edge of the swing. I knew it wasn’t intentional; her head was resting on my forearm. I was grateful when she didn’t pull away.

“What if I helped you?” I asked. I don’t know why I said that, although it worked to get a reaction out of her. Aspen began to laugh, like really laughing. Her body shook and she was covering her mouth with her hand.

“You? Help me write a romance novel?” Aspen inquired.

“Well, I’m not going to like, write the book, but what if I helped in another way?” This was a bad idea and I knew it. That didn’t stop me from shooting my shot. Aspen stopped laughing and gave me a funny look, her eyebrows pinching together. “What if I took you on dates? I could bring you flowers or whatever guys do to impress a woman. As friends of course. Then, maybe it’ll give you the inspiration you need to write and prove your parents wrong.” I held my breath, hoping she’d take me up on the offer. I saw my opportunity to spend more time with Aspen one-on-one outside of our nightly porch visits, so I ran with it.

Internally, I reasoned with myself why I offered myself like that. It was to help a friend further their dream, not because I was catching feelings for a girl I’d known for such a short period of time. Plus, maybe it would help me change my image? Maybe I was ready to settle down and find someone? It could be beneficial for me to get practice. We’d both be gaining something here, it would totally work.

Aspen was quiet for what felt like forever before mumbling to herself and nodding. “Okay. But, I think it’ll be smart to lay out some ground rules.”

“I agree,” I said.

“First, no touching. After yesterday’s events, touching you is definitely not an option.” Even though I wished I could disagree, I nodded.

“Second, we keep this to ourselves. People might see us round town. We’ll remind everyone we’re strictly friends.” Again, a smart rule. I didn’t need the guys in my shit and share their opinions because I knew damn well they would. “And we only go on three dates. No more, so we keep it strictly platonic.”

“Is that it?” I asked, trying not to sound sarcastic.

“Yup,” she said, “I think so. If I think of anything else, I’ll make sure to run it by you. Shall I draft a contract?” Aspen held out her hand, and I firmly shook on it.

“I don’t think a contract is necessary, but whatever you need.”

“What do you want in return?” She asked.

I couldn’t think of a single thing she could do for me. Well, maybe one. “Just keep baking me those muffins, Darling.”

“Oh God!” She said, putting her face in her hands. “This sounds like a romance book.”

“So, we’re off to a good start,” I smirked, patting her leg with my hand. I looked at her, realizing it hadn’t been even five minutes before I broke our first rule. “I already fucked up.” I pulled my hand away.

“I mean, I think that’s okay,” she said. “Just don’t let it linger.”

Contract or not, I knew I just signed a deal with the devil. What was I thinking, signing up for more alone time with Aspen? Taking her on dates for experience? Life was about to get interesting.