The sun’s already high by the time you pull into the dusty gravel driveway of your family’s old farmhouse, windows down, hair sticking to your forehead from the heat. The cicadas buzz in the trees, and the air smells like honeysuckle and hot earth. Summer in the countryside doesn’t mess around.

Unfortunately, neither do your parents — especially when it comes to favors for old family friends. The Gojo’s have sent their only son, spoilt brat and city boy born and bred, to have summer on your parents farm. You don’t know why and frankly you don’t care why. You just care your summer is now going to be filled with a bratty city kid complaining about the fact that the WIFI gets shitty after 10pm and having to wake up at 7am to feed the horses.

You spot him before he sees you.

White button-down rolled to the elbows, sunglasses perched in that stupidly perfect mess of silver hair, and loafers that have definitely never touched a dirt road in their life. Satoru looks wildly out of place, like a luxury ad got dropped in the middle of a cornfield. You kill the engine and swing out of the truck, kicking the door shut with the heel of your boot. He turns just in time to catch you looking and flashes a grin that’s all trouble and teeth.

“Well, if it isn’t the welcoming committee,” Satoru drawls, taking a slow step forward. “Didn’t think the countryside would be this charming.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed. “You’re not gonna last a second out here with that attitude, city boy?”

“City boy?” Satoru echoes and his laugh is a bark, unrestrained and loud.

You brush past him to grab one of his bags. “C’mon, we’ve got work to do.”

“Work?” Sayoru echoes, blinking like you’ve just said a foreign word.

“Yes work, city boy. Fences need fixing. Horses need feeding. If you’re staying here, you’re pulling your weight.”

Satoru stares at you for a beat, then tips his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to look at you properly. “Well shit,” he says slowly. God you can’t wait to break that sparkle in his ocean blue eyes.