It was quick, undiscussed. Your dad just sprung it upon you that all of a sudden the two of you were moving to the country—somewhere you’d never even thought of living.

You had been pissed the whole ride there, and even more pissed when you moved into the actual house, which was quite literally falling apart.

But then you saw your neighbours, an older man—about your dad’s age, along with a handsome boy. I mean, you liked a lot and kissed a lot of boys back in the city, but this boy was different.

He made you feel different.

So it was no surprise when you two became friends.

Secret meetings, picnic out on the fields, he made this ‘county life’ worth living. This boy, Rafe, was your spark in this dull area.

It was a late night, flies buzzing, everything asleep except you two, lying on a stack of hay in the barn.

Rafe turns to you, his usually messy hair even more roughed up. “You always look this pretty? Or am I seeing things, darlin’?” He asks you in that horrible country accent you’ve grown to love.

Your mouth falls open at the question, and you pause before you answer. “You’re just seeing things.” You tell him, laughing softly.

You and Rafe had been friends for almost a year now, but this? His voice had edge to it, it wasn’t just a causal question, it was something more.

Did this boy have a crush on you?