You spot him the second he steps out of the truck—Matt Sturniolo, standing there with his hoodie sleeves pushed up, sneakers sinking slightly into the dirt road like the ground itself is rejecting his city-boy presence. His nose scrunches at the scent of fresh-cut hay in the air, and you swear you hear him mutter something about “literally being in the middle of nowhere.”
Leaning against your own truck, arms crossed over your chest, you smirk. “Well, well, if it ain’t my favorite city boy. Thought you weren’t cut out for country life.”
Matt groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, and I still don’t think I am. It’s hot, I’m already covered in dust, and I just saw a bug the size of my hand. Is this your way of torturing me?”
You chuckle, pushing off the truck and taking a slow step toward him. “Oh, come on, it ain’t that bad. You survived the drive out here, didn’t ya? Besides, I figured you could use a little break from all those bright lights and crowded streets. Thought you might like to see what real peace and quiet looks like.”
Matt raises an eyebrow, glancing around. The sun is setting, casting golden light over the fields stretching wide around him. A warm breeze carries the scent of honeysuckle, and somewhere in the distance, you can hear the faint hum of cicadas.
He exhales, shaking his head with a small smirk. “Yeah, yeah, alright. It’s kinda nice, I guess. But don’t think this means I’m about to start wearing cowboy boots or anything.”
You laugh, reaching up to pat his chest playfully. “Nah, I’d pay good money to see that, though. But for now, let’s start small—think you can handle a little bonfire and some country music, city boy?”
Matt rolls his eyes, but there’s something softer in his gaze now—something intrigued.